Parallel

I force them out. I have to know. “After the accident. Is she . . .”
    Caitlin doesn’t say anything.
    “She’s dead,” I whisper. “Oh my God, she killed her.”
    “Wait, what? Who killed her?”
    “My parallel,” I choke out. “It was her fault. And now Ilana is dead.”
    “Abby, Ilana’s not dead. She was in a coma for a couple of weeks, but she didn’t die.”
    My body floods with relief. Then my brain registers what Caitlin just said.
    “But she was in a coma? Did it . . . does she—”
    “There was some damage to her brain,” Caitlin says carefully. “We should talk about this in person. Where are you?”
    “Corner of Hillhouse and Sachem,” I manage, tears streaming down my cheeks. Damage to her brain.
    “I’ll be right there,” Caitlin says.
    I’m still holding the phone to my ear when Caitlin arrives, out of breath from running.
    “Damage to her brain,” I repeat.
    “It could’ve been much worse,” she says, sitting down next to me. “Speech or movement problems, long-term memory loss, personality changes. But she doesn’t have any of that.”
    “Then what does she have?”
    “Her short-term memory is impaired,” Caitlin says. “She can remember stuff that happened before the accident, but she has trouble remembering things that have happened after it.”
    I’m quiet as I process this.
    “It’s not debilitating,” Caitlin continues, trying to sound upbeat. “I mean, it made taking tests pretty impossible, so finishing school was a challenge. And she had to give up acting.” I blink back fresh tears, unable to imagine Ilana doing anything else. As unpleasant as she was in real life, she was captivating onstage. “But last I heard, she was doing really well,” Caitlin adds. “Living with an aunt in Florida. Tyler keeps up with her, I think.”
    The “I think” gets my attention. Caitlin should know if Tyler still talks to Ilana.
    “I don’t understand why you thought your parallel killed her,” Caitlin is saying. “Why would you—”
    “When was the last time you talked to him?”
    “Who, Tyler?” Caitlin looks at me strangely. “I dunno, right before we left for school?” I can literally feel the color drain from my face, trickling down my neck.
    “Oh, no. No, no, no.”
    “Abby, what?”
    “You’re supposed to be together,” I say. “You’re supposed to—”
    “Whoa. What? Like, a couple ?” Caitlin blinks in surprise. “Since when?”
    “August.” I stare at the backs of my hands. “Max Levine’s party. Ty got up on a chair and told everyone he’d been in love with you since ninth grade.”
    “Seriously? He used the word ‘love’?” Caitlin is staring at me, slack-jawed.
    “So did you,” I say softly, sorrow like a dead weight inside me. “Not then. But two weeks ago, when he came to visit.”
    “He came to visit me here ? We were that serious?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wow.”
    I just nod, too sad to tell her what she said when he left. That she could see herself with him for the rest of her life. Or what he told me the night he arrived. That he was a better version of himself when she was around.
    “Wow,” Caitlin says again.
    “She’s the reason you’re not together,” I say glumly. “It’s my parallel’s fault. She thought she was helping, but she messed everything up.”
    “How?” Caitlin doesn’t sound upset. Just curious.
    “She told Tyler you liked him. The night of my mom’s— her mom’s—gala at the High. It’s the reason he broke up with Ilana.” The words come tumbling out. “If he hadn’t, Ilana wouldn’t have left that party when she did, angry and upset, and the accident—” My voice breaks.
    “Abby, Ilana was hit head-on by a drunk guy going seventy in a thirty-five. The accident was nobody’s fault but his.” I look away, knowing it’s not that simple. “Listen to me,” Caitlin says, grabbing my hand. “Your parallel didn’t cause that accident.”
    “But why did she have to lie to him?” Anger swells inside me. “Screw her motives. You told her you didn’t like Tyler. But she just had to trust that stupid hunch—”
    Caitlin’s eyes light up. “What hunch?”
    “She was convinced that you and Tyler were supposed to be together,” I tell her. “ Convinced . It sounds crazy, but it’s almost as if—”
    “She knew.” Caitlin and I just look at each other.
    “But that’s impossible, right?” Do I even believe in impossible anymore?
    Caitlin stands up