Джей Эшер - The Future of Us

“Exactly.” Josh reaches into his backpack and pulls out a folded up piece of paper. “I made a list of people we should look up on Facebook. Like my mom and dad, David, Tyson—”

“And Kellan!” I add. “I was thinking the same thing today. I want to see if she makes it into med school.”

I swivel toward my computer, and jiggle the mouse. The brick wall screensaver disappears and I get another chance to witness Sydney’s pregnant belly. “First, we should refresh your page,” I say. “Since you were Sydney’s superhero today, and now she’s going to call you, I bet everything’s different. You probably weren’t supposed to get together until much later, and—”

“Wait.” Josh stands up.

The arrow hovers over the Refresh button, but his tone is so serious I don’t click it.

Josh wriggles his feet into his sneakers and then grabs his skateboard and backpack. “I’ll try to come back later. Don’t look anyone up without me, okay?”

As he barrels downstairs, I shout, “I know where you’re going! Don’t you think babysitting your telephone is kind of—?”

Before I can finish, the latch on my front door clicks shut.

SYDNEY MILLS ASKED for my number!

I sprint through my front door, then up the stairs to my bedroom.

Sydney Mills asked for my number!

It still makes no sense, but I need to accept this reality. It’ll start with a phone call, which will lead to marriage, children, and a house on Crown Lake. I’ll have a fancy graphic-design job, and I’ll probably drive a nice car, too. A BMW or, since we’ll be out in the country, a Chevy Tahoe. Or both! In fifteen years, maybe I’ll drive something so insane I can’t even imagine it now.

My bed is unmade and T-shirts are strewn all over the floor. This does not look like the room of someone Sydney Mills would be calling. But it is! And she could be calling any second now.

Where is the phone?

I turn in a slow circle around my room. If the phone rings, I could kick piles around until I find it, but what if I answer too late? What if, because she couldn’t reach me, Sydney chats with some other guy and they start going out? Maybe they’ll end up getting married, and he’ll be taking my tropical vacations.

I lift the gray phone cord with my index finger and follow it down the length of my mattress, picking up stray socks and shirts. Finally, I toss aside an issue of Thrasher magazine and unveil the glorious telephone.

Now ring, damn it!

I shake out the tension in my arms. Tonight, before bed, I’m going to add ten push-ups to my usual twenty. I want to look like the kind of guy Sydney is used to calling.

I sit on the edge of my mattress and stare at the phone. If my parents come home early I don’t want them eavesdropping on this call. I’m nervous enough already. So I run to their room, grab the cordless phone from the nightstand, and then head downstairs.

I walk across my lawn toward the street. Every time Sydney comes into Peer Issues, she turns off her cell phone and slips it into her pocket. It always looks so casual and cool. I try shoving the cordless phone into my back pocket, but it’s too chunky to fit.

When I reach the sidewalk, a FedEx truck speeds across the street. I carefully look both ways before crossing. Today is definitely not the day to get hit by a truck. Today is a day to enjoy being alive! Wagner Park is full of maple trees with bright green leaves, lilac bushes, and the shouts of children playing.

I know exactly how far I can go before the phone loses contact with the cradle in my parents’ room. Over spring break, while visiting my brother, I met a girl at a music festival in Seattle. We stayed in touch for a few weeks, but I never told my parents about her. Whenever I talked to her on the phone, I called from the park. As long as I didn’t walk past the swings, I was okay.

I was hoping to visit her again this summer. David even offered to help pay for my flight. I think he was happy to hear me talking about someone other than Emma. But the Seattle girl didn’t want a long-distance relationship. After I left a few messages that she didn’t return, she mailed me a letter saying it was fun at the concert, but what was the point if it wasn’t going to last?

I hear a door shut, and turn to see Emma crouched at her stoop, tying the laces on her silver running shoes. When she adjusts the Discman on her arm, I move behind a tree. If Emma walks over here and Sydney calls, she’ll either roll her eyes at everything I say or coach me along in the background.

Emma crosses the street, jogs toward the running trail, and then disappears from view. I continue to the knee-high concrete barrier surrounding the swings and set the phone on the wall.

Even if I try to do everything right, the ripple effect is unavoidable. Everything changed the moment Emma discovered Facebook. If I didn’t know Sydney and I would eventually get married, I may not have defended her in Peer Issues. And she wouldn’t have asked for my number.

On the wall beside me, the phone remains silent.

MY MOM AND MARTIN are down in the den watching TV, so I go through their room to take a shower. The downstairs bathroom is usually mine, but until the construction is done I have to share with them.

My dad once asked me how I felt about Martin. We were walking on the beach over Christmas break, a few months after he moved to Florida. He was collecting shells in a mesh bag, and I was splashing my feet in the surf. I didn’t want to complain about Martin to my dad because that would make my mom look bad, especially since my dad and Cynthia have been happily married since I was eleven. But I also wasn’t about to sing Martin’s praises.

“He’s okay,” I said. “They don’t fight like Mom and Erik.” My mom and Erik used to have loud screaming matches with doors slamming, and ending with one of them sleeping on the couch. Come to think of it, my mom and dad fought that way, too. But so far my mom and Martin hardly argue at all.

“That’s good,” my dad said. “It sounds like she’s happy.”

I could feel a lump in my throat. “Can we not talk about this?” I asked, looking out at the bay.

I take a long shower, shave my legs, and then tie my robe around my waist. As I’m walking back through their bedroom, I pause in front of the framed baby picture my mom keeps on her dresser. It was taken in a kiddie pool when I was one. I’m wearing an embroidered hat, and I’ve got chubby cheeks, round eyes, and tiny heart-shaped lips.

Just like my own baby on Facebook.

When I get back to my room, I snuggle deep under my covers and think about Kevin Storm. His name is perfect. I wonder if we name our daughter Olivia. I’ve always loved that name, and Olivia Storm sounds like she’ll grow to be a confident woman. I know I told Josh we can’t get attached to our future children because there’s no way every detail will line up so the same sperm will impregnate the same egg on the same day. But I can’t help it.

I roll onto my side.

Tomorrow, I’m going to end things with Graham. For real this time. It was fun while it lasted, but I can’t imagine letting him kiss me anymore. Not since Josh saw us together. Not when Kevin Storm is waiting in my future.

I’ve always said I don’t believe in true love, but that I’d leave the door open for Cody Grainger to one day prove me wrong. Since I don’t end up marrying Cody, maybe I should open the door a little wider so Kevin Storm can have a chance, too.

MARTIN SETS A BOWL of dry oats and raisins on the counter. “It’s muesli,” he says, reaching for his soy milk. “The Swiss eat it for breakfast, and it’s definitely growing on your mom and me.”