“I know, but I guess I’m assuming we can continue it tomorrow.”
“That’s not in doubt. We’re only just starting. You’ll just have to pardon me—I’m impatient! This has been a massive afternoon for me.”
“Me too.”
“Good. Then we’ll continue tomorrow. I’ve gotten a suite at the Fairport. You can come by and we can go from there. If you give me your email address, I can send you the details and my phone number.”
It seems ridiculous to use Nathan as a go-between at this point. So I give him the information and he types it into his phone.
I mean, Wyatt’s phone.
“What about Wyatt?” I ask. “Doesn’t he have to go home?”
“He will, eventually. I’m telling you, I wouldn’t be able to stay in here if he didn’t want me to be here. And it’s the weekend. His parents will think he’s stayed an extra day after the protest.”
“They don’t know where he is. They’re worried.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Nathan sent me his Facebook page. So I would know what you looked like.”
“Crafty Nathan. I’ll be honest—I haven’t checked Wyatt’s Facebook page myself. Do you post as them when you’re in their bodies?”
“I try not to.”
“Me as well. It seems wrong to contribute to something that counts as permanent—or at least as permanent as modern technology can offer. So no, I haven’t been posting. And yes, I’m sure that’s freaking some people out, because heaven forbid someone goes off-line for a week. How dare he! But I assure you, that’s the only place Wyatt’s considered missing. And he’ll go back soon enough.”
“Okay. So I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry you have to go now.”
“Me too.”
“I’ll send you the information right away, so if you end up having free time later this evening, let me know.”
“I doubt Rudy’s parents will let him out of their sight.”
“So don’t go back!”
“Stop.”
“Sorry. I get it. Truly, I do. I’m just being selfish. I want to talk to you more. We haven’t even scratched the surface. Which, come to think of it, is a very poor metaphor to use vis-à-vis you and me. But you know what I mean.”
I can’t help but smile. “I do.”
“Good. Now go be the catalyst for a family reunion. I hope they don’t ship you back to Manila this evening as punishment.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“Yes, please don’t make me fly for eighteen hours for part two of this conversation.”
“I’ll make sure not to.”
The only way to pull myself out of the room is to remember that Rhiannon is back with the impressionists, waiting for me.
“I may stay here a little bit longer, to try to see what you see. Good luck.”
“You too.”
I start to leave. Then X says, “And, A?”
I turn back to him.
“Yes?”
“It’s great to meet you.”
“You too.”
* * *
—
My mind is barely in my body as I walk from the East Building of the museum to the West. It was almost ridiculous to be searching the walls for something similar to me, when the most similar person to ever come into my life was standing right next to me.
The museum is kind enough to provide plenty of reflecting surfaces, so I can check to make sure X is staying true to his word and remaining in the Rothko gallery rather than following me. It’s only as I get farther from him that the reality of the day returns. I think about Rudy, and about his parents. And I think about Rhiannon, who I find waiting exactly where we were supposed to meet a few hours ago.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say immediately.
“And I’m sorry I was late. We underestimated the traffic by about two hours. How’d it go?”
“It was incredible, Rhiannon. I don’t even know how to describe it. He knew exactly what I was talking about. From the inside. He’s been asking himself all the same questions I’ve been asking myself.”
I tell her more about it—exactly what we talked about. I don’t want to hold anything back from her.
I don’t expect any particular reaction from her—I know this is as new to her as it is to me. Still, I’m a little surprised by how concerned she is.
“You’re talking about him like he’s a really good guy,” she points out. “But that’s not really the sense of him that we’ve been getting. He beat the hell out of Nathan, A. Not once—twice. Did you ask him about that?”
“No. It didn’t come up,” I say, knowing how lame it sounds.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting him to bring it up. But you might have mentioned it. Just out of curiosity.”
“I’ll ask him tomorrow. I thought about it—I did. But it wasn’t the right time. I was learning so much from him. I didn’t want to shut that down.”
Rhiannon sighs. “Did you make sure he didn’t follow us here?”
“He was staying behind to look at those paintings some more.”
“He’s still in the building? Seriously?” She looks around quickly. “Let’s go. Now. I am going to walk ahead and go out on the Mall side, because it will be more crowded. Stay behind me, but not too close. And if you run into him again, I just want you to know—I’m going to keep walking. Then I’ll email you.”
“I don’t have phone service without wifi.”
“There’s free wifi in every one of these museums, A. I swear to God.”
There’s no goodbye. She just heads out. I wait half a minute and follow.
I don’t see X dodging away, or hiding behind any sculptures. I don’t think we need to act like spies right now. But there’s no way to call her back.
So I push ahead, the crowds getting thicker and thicker. When I’m outside on the steps of the museum, I’ve lost her completely…until she’s at my arm, saying, “Come on.”
It feels like there are indeed millions of people on the lawn. Over the loudspeakers, we can hear someone singing “Imagine,” with a large part of the crowd singing along. I try to add my voice as we push toward the National Museum of American History. “Wait,” I say, holding Rhiannon back for a second. “Look at this.”