Inevitable

She said yes!

It was a one-in-a-million chance. In every other possible reality of that moment, there was something that prevented her from saying yes, or me from asking. I know this because I could, and would, continue to experience it. I’m what’s called an Omni-verse Being, which sounds super intense, but just means that I exist in an infinite number of realities in which every decision I’ve ever made - and sometimes those made around me - splits into multiple worlds that I shift between, like someone might change TV channels. Also, I don’t have a great deal of control over it.

But Carrie Devigne said yes.

In order to make some sense of my life, I’ve tried to be a creature of habit. I believe it helps create some consistency in my pluralistic existence. She works at a coffee shop I go to every day, and she’s always smiling like she’s hatching a plan. Today, I worked up the courage to ask her if she was free this evening; I wanted to hit up a nearby arcade bar. Her look of suspicion convinced me she was about to say no, but instead she met me with that same illuminating smile.

As I sit at this bar waiting for her; there are only two problems: one, I’ve never been on a date before - being an Omni-verse Being makes creating attachments… difficult; and two, making such a whimsical decision means my reality network is going crazy, splintering off into an insane amount of possibilities.

In one reality I lose my resolve, leave the bar, grab some snacks from the store across the street, and return home to my predictable chaos.

In this reality, the one I’m trying desperately to stay in, Carrie walks into the bar before I can chicken out. She flashes me her breathtaking smile and walks toward me. Suddenly, the air leaves the room and my shoes are glued to the floor. I feel pulled into this reality and, for a moment, my parallels shift out of focus and I’m more solid than I’ve ever been in my life.

“So sorry! I hope you weren’t waiting long! Let me get the first round, what are you drinking?”

“Um…” I stammer, trying to find sound within my breath, “A glass of Merlot, please.”

“Oh, such a refined taste,” she says. There’s that sneaky smile again.

I never order Merlot. But maybe, if I act out of character, I’ll have something solid to bring me back to this reality if I start to be pulled away. Also, it makes my heart race a little, her thinking I have refined taste. I exhale a little to prevent myself from blushing.

She orders herself something pink and fancy. I can’t help but smile - with her leather jacket, dark makeup, and flowing red hair, it’s not the drink I pictured her with. We walk past the arcade cabinets and find a spot next to each other on a couch.

Carrie looks around, intrigued. “This place looks so cool! It’s just down the street, but I’ve never actually been inside. Do you live nearby?”

I look up at her and she’s watching me so intently, like she’s fully in the moment and invested in my answer and I can’t seem to speak. I try to take a breath and suddenly I’ve lost both my words and--

My keys. I’m standing at my front door searching for my keys. Oh no, I’ve been pulled into the reality in which I’ve gone home and I can’t seem to find my keys. But, Carrie… I want to be in that reality. I focus on my glass of Merlot: what it feels like, how it tastes, the weight of it in my hand, and just as quickly as it happened--

I’m holding my glass and sitting in front of Carrie, staring blankly at her. She smiles kindly, probably assuming it’s just my nerves getting the best of me.

She ignores my non-answer and continues speaking to save the moment. “Um, I’m really glad you invited me out. I haven’t been getting out much. You get into this routine of work and home and it gets hard to break, y’know? Lately I’ve been really into my art and it’s been pulling me - it’s nice to be pulled sometimes - but I forget to interact with people outside my bubble. I’ve noticed you carry a sketch book sometimes. Do you draw?”

Do I draw? Can I tell her that a version of me went to art school and is employed as a graphic designer for a Fortune 500 company? Or that another version of me is traveling the world, painting whatever inspires me? Or what about the me that worked as a curator and would be able to talk to Carrie about getting her art into a gallery? No. Instead, she has to meet this version of me. Why couldn’t I have asked her out in one of my other realities?

“I um… dabble with comics. I haven’t ever done anything with them, it’s more of a private hobby,” I tell her, knowing that in this reality, I stick to routine. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous, I actually don’t do this often. I get what you mean about getting lost in a routine, and this is all a bit uncharacteristic for me.” I slowly look up at her, feeling she must have lost interest by now.

To my surprise, she lights up. “Tell me more! I love comics - well, I used to. Is it about superheroes? Or a comic strip? Do you publish them? What medium do you use?” She talks so quickly and enthusiastically, it makes me suspicious. Why does she seem so excited to talk to me?

“I’m not really an art person,” I mutter. “I just use a pencil, sometimes a pen. I’m sorry, I’m actually really boring.” What am I even doing here?

And then I’m not.

I’m at my desk, staring at a blank page, in a reality where I didn’t ask Carrie out. Instead, I got my coffee this morning, went to work, and came home deflated. I think again of the Merlot: the hint of dark berries, the tears of wine on my glass, and suddenly I’ve escaped the blank page and I’m back with Carrie.

She’s mid-sentence. “...to embrace it. Art is about seeing and experiencing. It’s the ability to process what’s happening around you, and if you share it, others can see and experience in a way they couldn’t express before, but they understand it because they can feel it.”

Her words are so beautiful. She’s beautiful. “Beautiful…” I sigh, my mind vivid with her shared outlook, but my eyes linger on her lips a moment longer than I intended. She seems to have noticed, because she doesn’t respond immediately. She sips her drink and shifts closer to me; my heart pounds so loudly that I’m afraid I might be shaking.

Shaking…

The door is shaking from all the music. A more interesting version of me is in Italy and there’s a parade going on outside. The colors are incredible; the energy vibrant, but I don’t care. I want to be back at the arcade bar. Merlot… long-stemmed glass… Carrie. It’s like remembering a dream, but I focus until I’m back.

“Y’know, I’ve noticed you, coming into the coffee shop. You always look like you’re dreaming. I’ve wanted to talk to you but I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m really happy that I’m here.”

She’s happy that she’s here? Does she even realize how alluring she is?

My mind, and therefore my being, starts to drift--

Merlot.

Carrie’s looking at me earnestly. I stutter a reply. “I- I’m really happy that I’m here too… Er, that you’re here. It’s nice to get to know you outside of your work. You make me really nervous though, like I don’t know what to say…”

“Me? Oh my gosh, please don’t be nervous! I just want to get to--”

But before she can finish, I’m standing across the street from the bar, keys in hand. I back-tracked to find them there. I look up and see this version of Carrie standing on the curb, dejected. She calls an Uber.

Merlot.

And I’m back at the bar on the couch, next to her. Has she gotten closer? She just told me she wants to get to know me better… “I wish I could tell you something more interesting. To be honest, I feel like there’s so many people I could be, but instead I choose comfort over anything else, like a coward.”

“I don’t think that makes you--”

But I’m standing up from my desk, tossing aside a poorly drawn picture of a wine glass that I don’t know why I drew. I need caffeine… No, I need--

Merlot.

She is getting closer! Oh my god, soon she’s going to be close enough for a kiss. Please, I don’t want to miss this. I need to stay here, in this moment. I take a long swig of my wine, noting its earthy tang on my lips and the fruity notes as it hits my nose. If I can just hold onto this taste, I can stay.

Carrie’s still talking. “...what I’m trying to say is that you asked me here, right? That took courage. So cheers to breaking the routine!” She lifts her glass to mine and gives me that smile that melts me. We clink and she moves closer to me. We’re almost shoulder to shoulder now. I can feel the warmth from her body--

But it’s cold outside the bar. How long has she been waiting? She must think she’s been stood up. I cross the street and try to catch her--

Merlot.

She’s blushing at me! She looks down as she inches her hand closer so our pinkies are touching. My body’s coursing with adrenaline--

But then the doorbell rings. In my laziness I had ordered a single coffee and pastry, and was hoping the delivery driver wouldn’t judge me too hard. “Coming…”

‘Merlot!’ I shout internally, and it brings me back to Carrie. “Um… this is my first date…” I admit, “Like… ever.”

“Like, ever ever?” Her eyes widen, but she’s not pulling away.

“Ever ever,” I say. “I meant it when I said I don’t get out much.” --

But I open the door and my jaw drops. Carrie?! I’m shocked to see that pretty redhead from the coffee shop at my door. “Who do you think delivers the coffee?” She laughs. “Actually, to be honest, I recognized your order when it came in, and I volunteered to deliver and see if my hunch was right.” This girl might just be my type of crazy…

‘Merlot!’

I take a sip and recall the soft taste of plum and vanilla on my tongue to bring me back into Carrie’s reality. “If this is how first dates usually go, then I’ve really missed out,” I tell Carrie coyly as she finishes her pink drink.

“Sounds like you have a lot to learn then,” She says, and her eyes are alight with a thousand possibilities--

But her eyes are darting from me to her phone. Her Uber is arriving. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I tell her. Her response is harsh, but her eyes are soft: “Well, you’re here now…”

‘Merlot!’

And I down the rest of my glass. I can feel her breath now. “For example, lesson one…” And suddenly she leans in for the kiss--

--And all at once her lips are pressed against mine, the coffee order thrown to the ground beside her--

--And slowly the warmth of her lips dulls the chill of night, all hurt disappointment forgotten in that moment--

The electricity, the vibrancy, the passion of that kiss bounded across my realities with such a momentous crescendo that I felt like I was truly alive for the first time. Our lips part and she sits beside me on the couch, blushing. Her eyes are anxious.

I grab her hand.

“That felt… inevitable.”