The Time Traveler's Boyfriend (3 page)

“He’s fine,” I say. “Working hard, that’s all.”

Mom lowers her voice. “Any ring, yet?”

Does my mother want her daughter to be married, like, yesterday? Why yes, she does. And I made the horrible mistake of mentioning to her that I thought he might ask me—that was before Adam’s admission of his commitment issues. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Not yet, Mom,” I say. “Look, we’ve only been together a year. It’s still early …”

“You’re thirty-six, Claudia!” Mom says. “Don’t you want to have children? Listen, you have to push him a little. He’s so crazy about you. I’m sure he’ll ask you if you give him a little nudge …”

Don’t count on it. “Mom, I have to go to work …”

“Oh, wait, let me put Daddy on!”

I listen to the shuffling on the other end of the line and finally my father picks up. For about thirty years, my father was a high-powered malpractice attorney in Manhattan. If you wanted to skewer some doctor, you called Don Williams. Until 2009 when he had a stroke.

It could have been worse. The stroke left him with slightly garbled speech that Mom and I have learned to understand pretty well by now, a face that droops a bit on the right, and a right hand that doesn’t work very well. Also, he needs a cane when he walks outside of the house. The big thing was that the stroke forced him to retire from his practice and start taking it easy. In that sense, it’s been a good thing, but I still wish it didn’t have to happen that way.

As a kid, I always thought of my father as being Superman. He was big, strong, and nothing could hurt him. Even as an adult, I mostly thought of him that way. Then when I saw him lying in bed after his stroke, he seemed so feeble. And old. In the few months after the stroke, his graying hair turned completely white. It made me realize for the first that I wasn’t going to have my father around forever.

“Hi, Claudia,” Dad says into the phone, speaking slowly to enunciate his words like the speech therapist taught him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I say, grateful that he at least won’t be probing into my personal life.

“How’s Adam?” he asks. Dad loves Adam. Partially because being with Adam makes him feel better about the fact that he needs a cane to walk. But also because Adam fixed his laptop for him.

“Adam’s fine,” I say.

“Please marry him so your mother shuts up about it,” Dad says.

I laugh. I figure worrying about me getting married and having kids gives my mother something to do. Once I check those items off my list, what will she have to nag me about? Her life will probably seem quite empty. Well, except for the grandkids.

In any case, it doesn’t sound like it’s something I’ll have to worry about any time soon.

***

Our first anniversary
, one month ago, was when things between me and Adam started to go downhill.

Adam took me to this really nice French restaurant because he knows I find French food romantic.
I don’t know why that is exactly, but I just do. I mean, if someone told you they were ordering rooster, you’d probably make a face, but if they said they were eating
coq au vin
, you’d say that sounded delicious.

I could tell Adam was going out of his way to make the night special.
Instead of the usual single rose he brings for me, he had a dozen delivered to my door that morning. And he pre-ordered a bottle of really good wine to make sure it would be available for us. It was incredibly expensive but definitely not out of his price range. And Adam himself looked so sexy. He actually made an effort to button his dark blue shirt with all the right buttons and tamed his hair at least a little. And he wore a tie.

He got us a secluded table for two in the back of the restaurant. The lighting was dim and there was a single candle between us.
As we waited for our wine to arrive, Adam took my hand and said to me, “I love you so much, Claudia. You’re the best thing in my whole goddamn life.”

So really, you can
’t blame a girl for getting the wrong idea.

Yes, I thought he was going to propose.
I was absolutely
sure
he was going to propose. I was so sure that I was swishing my wine around in the glass, making sure I wasn’t missing seeing a diamond ring, scared I had swallowed it. I dug through my chocolate mousse with my fork, searching for it. But it wasn’t there.

And then the waiter pulled away our dessert plates and the opportunity to hide the ring in food was lost.
Still, I was hopeful. And then Adam pulled out a blue velvet box and I nearly fainted. Before he could even open it, I started tearing up, murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes …”

Except Adam didn
’t ask me to marry him. He just looked confused.

The box contained earrings, by the way.
Diamond earrings that were beautiful and horribly expensive, and I absolutely hated them. I wanted to take them and throw them in Adam’s face.

“
I’m sorry,” he said, a deep crease between his brows. “Did you think I was going to …? I mean, I didn’t know you were expecting …”

“
How could you not know?” I asked him, trying to keep my voice down so as not to let on how very upset I was. I mean, he did get me some beautiful and expensive earrings. I should have been grateful.

“
Well, it’s only been a year,” he pointed out.

“
Only a year
,” I repeated. “Adam, we’re not
kids
. How long exactly are we supposed to wait here?”

Adam tugged at his tie, loosening the knot like he needed some extra air.
I’d seen men look that way before. It made my stomach turn. “I don’t know …”

“
Didn’t you just say that I’m the best goddamn thing in your whole life?”

“
Yeah,” he admitted. “So … why do we have to spoil it?”

“
Spoil it?” My voice rose an octave, and I cleared my throat quickly. As much as I didn’t want to turn into the kind of woman I’d always felt sorry for, I also needed to be straight with him: “Adam, that’s bullshit and you know it.”

He slumped down
in his wheelchair, his expression glassy. I think it was safe to say all the romance had been sucked out of the evening. “I’m just not ready yet, Claudia.”

I really loved him, but I hated him for saying that.
I hated him for being like every other guy, especially when I loved him so much more than I loved any other guy and I thought he felt the same way.

Something changed between us that night.
I felt like I’d suddenly evolved into this nagging girlfriend that I really didn’t want to be. I knew that our relationship had to move forward or it would die, but it wasn’t up to me. I hinted at marriage a few more times or even me moving in with him, but he always had an excuse. Something about not being ready, or that I deserved better than him, or my personal favorite: that The Bitch had messed him up so badly that he just couldn’t settle down.

Part of me kind of feels for him.
I mean, he had this awful experience with another woman, and it can be hard to bounce back from that. But there are other fish in the sea, Adam. It’s pretty sad if you can’t get over some girl from ten years ago.

CHAPTER
FOUR

I have a spectacularly bad day at work that makes me glad my migraine is completely gone. The student bathroom is just across the hall from my classroom, so when one of my kids raises a little hand and says, “Miss Williams, I gotta use the bathroom,” I give them a pass and they scoot across the hall to use the bathroom then come on back like a good little girl or boy.

Except today Sophia Wright decides that aft
er using the bathroom, she wants to take a little stroll around the school. After she doesn’t return for fifteen minutes, I finally have to contact the principal’s office, and we locate her finger-painting in the empty art classroom. I think her parents may have forgotten to administer her ADHD meds this morning.

This incident drags me into a meeting after
school, where we have to discuss how to fix things so that we don’t have “a repeat of Sophia Wright.” Considering she was never in any real danger, I feel that punishing Sophia would be sufficient, but I’m in the minority. Ideas that get tossed around include forcing every kid to have a bathroom buddy (but then we’d lose two of them!) and having designated “bathroom time” where I stand there and watch every kid in my class pee, and the kids can’t go any other time (great idea, as long as they’re wearing diapers—six year olds are not skilled at “holding it in”).

Halfway through the meeting, I get a text from Adam,
which I check surreptitiously under the table:
You coming over tonight?

I think of last night and feel relieved he isn’t being weird today:
Sure.

His reply comes back quickly:
Need to show you something. Important
.

What is it?

Can’t say. Just come. Love you.

One thing I have to say for Adam, he certainly knows how to intrigue a girl.

I go back to my apartment in Chelsea after work to shower and grab some new clothes. My apartment is a tiny studio, which is honestly the best I can afford on my salary—it’s a crime how underpaid elementary school teachers are. I’ve put up a lot of mirrors to make it look bigger, but it’s really small. All I’ve got room for is a sofa bed, a tiny wooden desk, and a bookcase.

I’ve checked my finances and I think I may have enough to upgrade to a one-bedroom apartment, where I’ll have room for an actual sofa
and
a bed, but I’ve been holding off. I haven’t given up hope Adam will ask me to move in with him. I think I can persuade him—I just haven’t figured out how.

But for now, I’m stuffing a blouse and underwear into my purse for tomorrow. One drawer just isn’t enough.

I can’t help but wonder about Adam’s weird disappearance last night. He’s never done anything like that before, as far as I can remember. I’m actually starting to really wonder what’s so important that Adam wants to show me.

Chances are
, it’s not an engagement ring.

If I had to guess, based on last night, I’d imagine it’s an invention. Adam shows me nearly all his inventions these days, and I have to say, it’s adorable how excited he gets over them. He’s made several things that are specifically for me, and he’s so proud of himself when he shows them to me. I feel like it’s sort of romantic to think of him slaving over some invention just to make me happy.

Adam waited until date number five to drop the inventor bomb on me. I guess he figured I’d think it was too weird and go running for the hills, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. At least he has good insight into how weird it is.

The way he told me was that he brought me a single red rose. He’d given me roses before, but this time when I brought the rose close to my face to inhale its scent, it started playing Peter Frampton’s “Baby I Love Your Way.” That’s one of my favorite songs, a fact I didn’t even remember having shared with him. He must have asked my friends what songs I liked.

“There’s a metal chip that senses the heat of your face and plays music,” Adam informed me, somewhat shyly.

I looked at the rose in amazement. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it,” he said, as if anything else would have been ridiculous. Then he added, “For you.”

“You made it yourself?” I asked, still incredulous. I twirled the rose between my thumb and index finger. “Like, from scratch?”

“Well, I didn’t mine the metal from the earth myself,” he said. “But yeah, sort of from scratch. I like doing that kind of thing. Inventing new stuff.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Hmm,” Adam said. “When you say ‘wow,’ does that mean ‘wow’ as in ‘my boyfriend is too incredible for words’ or ‘wow’ as in ‘I had no idea my boyfriend was such a loser geek’?”

“The first one,” I told him, smelling the rose again as Peter Frampton’s music filled my ears. It smelled good
and
it played music. Truth be told, I fell a little bit in love at that moment. I mean, my boyfriend invented something for me. How cool is that?

Most of Adam’s inventions are minor, little devices he rigs up. He’s never invented anything before that he described as “important.” It makes me wonder if he really does have something special planned for this evening. Maybe he isn’t going to ask me to marry him, but at least maybe he really does want us to move in together. That would be great.

I consider dressing up, going so far as to pull out my dark green Versace dress that I know is Adam’s favorite, but I ultimately opt for my usual jeans and a sweater. He’ll be dressed casually, so I’ll feel silly all dressed up. Plus it’s painfully obvious that Adam couldn’t really care less what I wear. He is less concerned with fashion than anyone I’ve ever met.

I brave the subway and make it uptown in about half an hour. It’s quiet on his street, and I can hear the clip-clop of my sandals echoing against the pavement. Adam lives in a largely residential area, but just a few blocks away, there are tons of restaurants, including a dim sum place that’s to die for. One thing I
don’t
see today are any rabbits. Not even one. Thank God.

When Adam opens the door to his house, he’s smiling and his face has a glow that’s very familiar. I squint at him, “Have you been drinking?”

Adam smiles wider and shows me his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Just a bit. It’s a really exciting day.
Really
exciting.”

I slip inside and close the door behind me. “Is that so?”

“Life changing,” he says, his brown eyes wide behind his spectacles.

“Is that so?” I ask again, my heart pounding slightly. Life changing? What does that mean?

Adam nods. “Definitely.”

He wheels himself down the hallway and into the living room and I follow him, my heart still thumping in my chest. I really have no idea what he’s going to show me, but I’m starting to
get the feeling it’s nothing romantic. I mean, if it were, he’d have me in his lap right now. I wouldn’t be racing after him, trying to keep up because he’s so damn excited.

When we get into the living room, Adam points proudly to something in the middle of the room. “Here it is.”

My jaw falls open. I know exactly what that is.

“You stole my step,” I say angrily.

Adam stares at me blankly. “What?”

“My step!” I say. I cannot believe this, honestly. “You took it! I’ve been looking for it for months!”

Adam looks down at the step that I bought about a year ago for my step aerobics. When I started spending more time here, I brought the step over, thinking I could do my exercise DVD. I didn’t even have a chance to do the video once, because when I returned to his house a few days later, the step had vanished. It’s not exactly small—about two feet in length—so I genuinely couldn’t understand how it had disappeared. I even asked Adam about it, and he had no clue what I was talking about.

Now it all makes sense. Adam took it. For reasons that are beyond me.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” he says, sounding a little baffled.

“Where did you get it?” I ask.

He shifts in his wheelchair. “I found it. In my living room.”

“And you didn’t think it was odd that this big step suddenly appeared in your living room one day?”

“I guess not.” Adam shrugs sheepishly. The crazy thing is, I believe him. I don’t think he meant to steal my step and drive me insane searching for it. He just saw it, figured it was something he needed, and took it. Remind me not to leave my wallet lying around.

“I’m sorry, Claudia,” Adam says to me. “I didn’t know it was yours. I can buy you a new one.”

“I already bought a new one,” I say. “And believe me, I will never
ever
bring it here.”

“You can if you want,” he says.

“No way,” I say. “Obviously, my steps aren’t safe around you. Whatever you made with my first step, I’m sure a second step would make it twice as good.”

“I’m really sorry.” Adam’s cheeks are pink now. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back.”

I wave my hand. Adam is very generous about money, mostly because he has lots of it. He’s never even close to allowed me to contribute to paying for a meal. I feel like it would be pretty insulting to make him get out his wallet and hand me bills. “It’s okay.”

“So, um,” he says. “Can I show you what it is?”

Aside from being for step aerobics? I look closer and see that he’s rigged it up to a large metal canister that’s making an ominous whirring noise, as well as a small laptop computer. There are about a dozen copper wires connecting everything, and for a second, I see one of them emit a small spark. I can’t even imagine what this is. I take a stab in the dark: “Is it some kind of virtual reality thing?”

Adam shakes his head. “Nope. It’s a device to create wormholes in space.”

I take a few steps back, horrified. “Adam, is that thing filled with
worms
? Because if it is—”

He laughs. “No, a
wormhole
. Don’t you know what that is?”

At least I can say he respects me enough to assume I know as much physics as he does. “Sorry, no.”

“Okay …” Adam thinks for a second. I know it’s important to him that I understand this, so I try my best to focus on what he’s about to say. “So pretend spacetime is a two-dimensional surface …” Aaaand he’s already lost me. “If you fold this surface along a third dimension, you would create a wormhole ‘bridge.’ It’s basically like a tunnel through different points in spacetime.”

I just look at him blankly.

“You can travel through time,” he finally says.

I stare at him. I must be hearing wrong. “You made a
time machine
?” I say, incredulous. “Out of my step from step aerobics?”

“It’s not a time machine,” Adam says, sounding a little miffed at the comparison. “It creates wormholes.”

“But the purpose is to travel through time, right?”

“Yes …”

I fold my arms across my chest. “So how is that not a time machine?”

Because he doesn’t want it to be, seems to be the only answer he can come up with. Because time machines are stupid and/or fictional, and what he created is something real. But from what he’s telling me, that’s exactly what this is. And naturally, I’m just a bit skeptical.

“Can I show you how it works?” he asks, all full of wide-eyed eagerness.

I have to admit, I’m curious. So I follow him as he wheels over to the side of the room, where there’s a rectangular object covered by a light sheet. He pulls off the sheet and underneath is a metal cage. And inside the metal cage is …

“The rabbit!” I almost scream. It’s the rabbit from the other day! I’m sure of it because it even has that black patch on its backside. And now I can hear that ticking noise again, coming from the timepiece around its neck.

“It
was
your rabbit!” I cry, now nearly furious with him. “You lied to me!”

Adam digs into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled scrap of paper. He hands it to me and I see it’s a receipt. “I bought this rabbit two hours ago,” he explains.

I look down at the receipt, and sure enough, it’s dated with today’s date. But that’s obviously got to be a forgery.

Of course, Adam has never lied to me before. Not that I know of.

He bends over, opens the cage, and pulls out the rabbit. The rabbit huddles on his lap, obviously already afraid of me. Adam strokes its white fur gently. He’s actually pretty great with animals, unlike me. “Now all we need is a version of this little guy that doesn’t need to eat or take a crap,” he says in a teasing voice.

“Shut up,” I say, unable to take my eyes off the rabbit.

“His name is Albert,” Adam says as the rabbit nibbles on his fingers.

“Like Albert Einstein?” I ask.

Adam looks at me blankly. “No, I just always liked the name Albert.”

He wheels over to the step while Albert sits peacefully on his lap. Adam points to the laptop and shows me the screen. “We just have to adjust the settings,” Adam explains. I peer at the screen, watching carefully. “So, you saw him three days ago, at seven p.m. So we just type in the date we want to go back, the time, and the amount of time that he’ll be gone for … say, ten minutes. I don’t want the little guy to get hurt or scared being gone too long.”