No guessing. It’s true.
I’ve looked at this problem up, down, and sideways, I tell him. I’ve lain in this bed for days wondering if we were all supposed to do something different.And . . . it doesn’t matter.
What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?I’m saying things happen for a reason. I’m saying there’s a point to this. I didn’t stick around with you that night because I wasn’t supposed to. That wasn’t what I was meant to do.He looks at me. He doesn’t say anything.
You know, I continue, maybe you and I would have gone out that night and stayed out partying and drinking until the early morning. And maybe we could have walked around the city all night, talking about our feelings and rehashing old times. Or maybe we would have left that bar and gone to another bar, where we ran into Matt Damon, and he would say that we seemed like really cool people and he wanted to give us a hundred million dollars to start a cinnamon roll factory.We don’t know what would have happened. But whatever would have happened wasn’t supposed to happen.
You really believe that? Ethan says.
I think I have to, I tell him. Otherwise, my life is an absolute disaster.I’ll clean my room later, he said.
I shook his shoulder harder. Wake up. It’s me. Abby.Abby? he asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting against the light.
Yes. I thought of a way to check another item off the list.He sat up, his eyes finally coming into focus. He glanced at the window over my shoulder. You’re right, waking up before the sun is a huge fear of mine. Go ahead and check it off.