Parallel

roommate I’d have dinner with her.”
    “Right on,” Fiona says. “Another time then. Here.” She digs through her bag and pulls out an index card with the lines from her audition scene written on the back. “My email,” she says, scribbling it down on the blank side. “In case I don’t see you later.”
    “We’ll hang out!” I say enthusiastically, imagining us bonding over arty movies and obscure literary references.
    When I get back to my room, there’s a note from Marissa on the coffee table. @ Commons w/ girls across the hall. Meet us!
    I drop my bag on the floor and plop down on the couch, too revved to eat. What I should do is catch up on my philosophy reading. I have a midterm on Thursday, and I haven’t even cracked open my course pack. It’s remarkably easy to procrastinate when you’re not sure you’ll be around to take the test you’re supposed to be preparing for.
    I flip through the first section of the packet, a collection of essays on free will, predestination, and foreknowledge, and scan over the sample questions at the end. What did John Calvin mean when he said that God “freely and unchangeably ordains whatsoever comes to pass”? Ugh. Philosophy of Theology seemed like a good choice when I was picking classes, but now the subject matter hits a little too close to home. Did God know Ilana would get into that accident? Was it somehow predestined?
    Did all this—the collision, the entanglement, the fact that I kept my memories—happen for some specific purpose, or is it all just a crazy cosmic fluke?
    I want to believe there’s a reason behind it all, but it’s hard to come up with one. If God had something he needed help with, I’m guessing he wouldn’t pin his hopes on the girl who can barely remember to pray (except, of course, when she’s studying for a super-hard theology midterm. Please, God, don’t let me fail. ).
    Feeling my eyes glaze over, I abandon my theology reading for DVRed episodes of The Hills . An episode and a half later, Marissa comes through the door, carrying a plastic cup full of dining hall frozen yogurt, layered with Cap’n Crunch and Oreos. “I figured you might need a snack,” she says, handing it to me.
    “Thanks,” I say, suddenly starving.
    “How’d the audition go?” she asks as I shovel a heaping spoon of yogurt into my mouth. She kicks off her shoes and plops down on the couch next to me.
    “Eh,” I say between bites. “I couldn’t tell. Hey, this is really tasty. Want some?”
    She shakes her head. “No, thanks.”
    “HFCS?”
    “The trifecta,” she replies, making a face. “High fructose corn syrup, trans fats, and aspartame.”
    “Mmmm. Yum.” I take another massive bite.
    “Hey, can I ask you something?”
    “Sure,” I reply, crunching on an Oreo.
    “Does Caitlin like Ben?”
    I stop mid-bite. My mind jumps to the night of my birthday dinner. In the version I remember, Caitlin was with Tyler, but she and Ben were acting awfully cozy at the table. Marissa didn’t act like she noticed it, though. But things have changed now. Because of what happened in the parallel world yesterday, Caitlin was single on my birthday. Was the flirty banter between Ben and her even more intense. Marissa is still waiting for me to answer her question. When I don’t right away, her face falls. “She does, doesn’t she? She likes him and you’re afraid to tell me. I knew it.”
    “What? No! Caitlin does not like Ben,” I assure her. After unwittingly ruining Craig’s marriage that summer, Caitlin has adopted a zero-tolerance policy for guys who are taken. It’s the reason she felt the need to wait four days after Tyler broke up with Ilana to go out with him. Relationship boundaries mean something different to her than they did before. Falling for someone who failed to mention his wife (at least, not until that wife called Caitlin, demanding to know why her husband had Caitlin’s number in his phone) shattered something inside her, and there was nothing I could do to put it back together again. She wouldn’t even let me try. After sobbing through the gory details the day after it happened, sick with sadness and regret, Caitlin made me promise never to bring it up again, and I haven’t.
    Marissa looks relieved. “I didn’t think so, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
    “You have nothing to worry about,” I say firmly. “Caitlin would never like a friend’s boyfriend. Ever.”
    Marissa smiles. “Speaking of