I furrow my eyebrows at her, and she smiles like a pageant contestant.
“No,” I grumble. “Who’s with you?”
The mystery visitor shifts and the floor creaks. I sit up in bed and try to see around my mom. She stays where she is for a few seconds, then throws up her hands.
“Fine, I’ll catch you up,” she says, entering the room and sitting down on the desk chair. The visitor tentatively steps into the room, bearing coffee and a bag of something I hope is a scone. I admire his striking features, piercing eyes, flawlessly messy hair.
“Hey, Luke,” I say, with undertones of seduction that I hope fly over my mother’s head.
From my right, Mom gasps. Not the reaction I’d expected.
Luke looks surprised. Then thrilled. Then skeptical.
“You remember him?” my mom asks.
“Of course,” I say, throwing her a look that says I think she’s lost it.
“You do?” Luke asks. Now I’m furrowing my eyebrows at him, too. What is wrong with everyone?
“And you haven’t looked at your notes yet today?” Mom asks incredulously. I wish she’d leave us alone, because I can think of a better way to spend the few minutes we have before school.
“Is that coffee for me?” I ask Luke, arms outstretched. Then I answer my mom: “No, not yet. Why? Why are you acting so weird?”
She lets loose a silly, girlish giggle, and Luke and I can’t help but laugh with her. When we all compose ourselves, I ask, “What’s funny?” which sends my mom into hysterics once again.
Luke crosses the room, hands me my coffee, and sits next to me on the bed. He kisses my cheek and says softly, “You remember me.”
I think of Luke tomorrow; I remember him from next year.
“I get the feeling that I didn’t before,” I say, matching his low tone. Through her laughter, my mom excuses herself and leaves us alone.
“Nope,” Luke says, eyes bright. “But you do now, and that’s all that matters.”
“Well, let me catch up,” I say, grabbing the stack of notes off the bedside table. After I’ve reviewed them, my mood has changed.
“Luke, we need to talk.”
“Is this about yesterday?” he asks, looking hurt.
“Yes,” I say, thankful for the details. “It’s pretty serious.”
Luke tenses and shifts to face me. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”
“No,” I say with a little laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Just go ahead,” Luke says glumly.
I take a deep breath, and slowly, carefully, I tell Luke the story of the memory that I know, from my notes, came back to me yesterday. I still remember it today, so I don’t need to look back at my notes to explain everything. I’m detailed but to the point, never wavering until the very end.
“And then I die?”
“Yes,” I say, my eyes welling up with tears. Luke and I will have a great relationship. We’ll talk about marriage, but he won’t get the chance to propose. Instead, he’ll die.
The color drains from Luke’s face, but he doesn’t cry with me. Instead, he’s still, pensive.
“Are you all right?” I ask after I’ve dried my tears.
“I don’t know,” Luke says, still immobile. He holds his coffee cup awkwardly by his left leg. I take it from him and set it on the table.