Lucky 33 (Love in the District #2)

24. Time Machine

CHAPTER 24

TIME MACHINE

P art of Amy hoped Drew would chase her up Wisconsin Avenue after she left, and she was equally disappointed and glad that he didn’t. Her tears flowed freely as she walked, and people passing by gave her worried looks. That described this city perfectly— people caring enough to be worried but too busy to stop and help.

Regret set in before she was halfway home. Her tears had turned into gasping sobs by the time the elevator got to her floor. What have I done?

She locked herself in her home, took a deep breath and forced herself to stop crying. It was time to solve the most pressing problem. I can’t go to work like this.

Since there was no way she would tell Laura what she’d done until she’d thought things through, Amy needed another option for someone to fill in for her with Belinda to keep the business going. This was one of the few times Amy wished she wasn't the owner and could just take vacation time and make filling in for her someone else’s problem. But that’s not the situation. She needed to suck it up. There was no way she could spend so many hours each day with Belinda and have her no notice that someth ing was wrong, so she’d have to at least tell her she and Drew broke up.

Amy: Drew and I broke up. I don’t want to talk about it.

Belinda: Are you okay? I’ll take care of everything with work. We can talk about the details once you feel better.

Amy: No, I’m not okay. I don’t know when I will be. But I don’t need you to do anything extra. I’m not taking any time off. I’d rather keep working so I can focus on something other than being upset.

Amy wasn’t okay the next day or the week after, but she persevered and did the minimum to keep her business and herself alive. There had been plenty of sleepless nights, and she had put next to no effort into her appearance. She'd caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and was shocked. The spaces below her eyes were hollow and dark; her hair was a greasy, stringy mess, and she was breaking out on her chin.

She hadn’t known how lucky she was before to only deal with anxiety. Adding depression on top of it was a living nightmare. Between thoughts of Drew and deep regret, she felt the panic of the anxiety and the need to do something to fix the situation, fighting with the lethargy of the depression. Work wasn’t helping like she thought it would. It was all an ugly biochemical battle, and the outcome was more tears in the privacy of her home and, embarrassingly, while she cleaned other people’s homes. And when she thought she was finished with the tears, she started up again.

One day in mid-September, the tears stopped. The relief Amy felt from that realization was temporary because the negative thoughts now had space to set in. She wished as hard as she could for a time machine. Amy sat on the floor in the spot where the Miracl e of the Pizza Slice had occurred and begged the Universe to time-jump her back to before she walked into Drew’s apartment.

But spacetime remained intact. Amy was alone to deal with her regret. Regret that she had lost the love of her life. Regret that she had meddled in his past. And, most importantly, regret that she had hurt him in a likely irreparable way.

After her regret phase came the guilt, and it was crushing.

I acted like a lunatic. Who did I think I was?

I still don’t know the whole story. He said it was “bullshit” and “one night” in jail.

Everyone else was right.

Then came the anger, roaring in and heating her from head to toe.

There’s only one person who agreed that I needed to do this: Mystic Natasha. Why did I listen to her? Is she against me? Is this some elaborate cosmic joke to build me up and tear me down?

Amy shouted with rage and got up from the floor. She moved to the kitchen and swept her hand along the counter, knocking each dirty wine glass she had collected over the week onto the floor where they broke. Order in my life has gotten me nowhere. I just want to burn it all down. She moved on to the uneaten takeout food that had collected in her refrigerator. Each container burst open on the floor as she dropped it.

In the fridge, she found Drew’s stupid Cheerwine soda cans that only people from North Carolina wanted or drank. She hated it more than ever now. The red liquid exploded from the cans as she threw them at the sink.

She was breathing heavily, and she felt crazed. The cathartic feeling she had felt moments ago disappeared instantly at the sight of her kitchen. Amy closed the refrigerator door and slid her back down to the floor. She cried and cried, surrounded by her mess .

After work the next day, Amy exited her Uber in front of Mystic Natasha’s shop. She had spent the night before cleaning up from her kitchen tantrum and had taken on a feeling of numbness. She figured that numbness was a step up from being enraged or crying uncontrollably, so she headed out to consult the psychic while it lasted.

She was too embarrassed to tell anyone else about what she had done. Since Natasha had told her the only course of action was to see her suspicions through, she was the only person Amy could turn to.

This time, Amy made an appointment. She didn’t want to make a habit of needing an emergency reading like she had during her last visit. Natasha was waiting for her, the psychic’s expression deeply sympathetic.

“I assume you talked to Drew?” she said. Amy nodded, eyes downcast, tears fighting their way back out. “Well, we already knew it was going to be challenging. Come on back.”

After closing the heavy curtain, Natasha gave Amy a warm hug. “Honey, it’s going to be okay. You will be okay. He will, too.”

Great, here come the tears. Amy sniffled into Natasha’s robe. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” she said, voice muffled by material.

“You didn’t need to come prepared with anything. Let’s sit and find out what the spirit world wants to tell us.”

Natasha held Amy’s hands and was quiet for an uncomfortably long time. What’s going on? Is she getting bad news? Is she asleep? Should I say something?

Amy was relieved when Natasha finally spoke. “Your pain is going to last for a while longer. I’m getting that you shouldn’t force things. If you do, it will only cause more heartache.”

Wait, does that mean we’ll get back together? I’m afraid to ask her. What if she says no?

Natasha smiled and said, “You’re wondering if you’ll get back together.” Whoa, she’s good. “The answer is still unclear because there are multiple paths that you could take. All of them appear to have an equal chance of happening.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Amy asked, her voice filled with pain.

“Open your heart and soul. Objectively consider what you’ll do next instead of letting your negative thinking color your decisions. It’s important that you take the time to sit with your options before making a move.”

“What are my options?”

“That’s not for me to tell you.”

Super helpful.

“I’m getting that you’re not yet in a place to take action. Your feelings are still muddled. You’re holding on to anger at Drew, but you’re also angry at yourself. The sudden loss of your relationship makes it especially hard for you to process your feelings.

“I want you to promise me you’ll give yourself time before doing anything. Try to fight the feelings of sadness so you can assess the situation. I feel a strong undercurrent of anxiety from you, so it may be hard to fight your nature as you work your way through this breakup. Give yourself grace. Being hard on yourself will only delay your ability to see a way through.”

She’s better than any therapist I’ve ever had.