I watched Alex walk away, feeling a sense of
relief.
Good. He was never supposed to be a part of my life, anyway.
My phone buzzed in my purse.
Г
I looked down. My lock screen was a photo of a fireworks–lit night sky, with a young man in
a thin sweater warming the hands of a girl in
a black coat.
That scene, from fifteen years from now, was
in my dreams every New Year’s Eve, only to
be replaced by the harsh reality and tear-
stained pillow in the morning.
The caller ID read: Chris.
It was like a sudden rain after a long drought.
My eyes welled up, my hands shaking as I
pressed the answer button.
The call connected, and I held it to my ear, listening to the voice I’d waited fifteen years
to hear, as if it were a verdict.
<
“Hey, Dr. Karen, everyone said my cookies
weren’t sweet enough. Do you think you could
swing by after work and give them a look?”
The funny, witty tone was the same. Before,
I’d have laughed and called him cheesy. Now,
my throat tightened, and a thousand words
choked me.
He was always perceptive. He picked up on
my distress and asked, a hint of panic in his
voice, “Karen, what’s wrong? Where are you?
I’ll come get you.”
I forced myself to calm down. “Nothing, just
got something in my eye. I’ll get off work on
time today, just be good for me.”
He finally relaxed, sounding happy. “Yes,
malam!!!
ma’am!”
I hung up, my heart pounding.
Fifteen years ago, I got the same phone call.
I turned Chris down, because I had to work
late.
That night, the cops called. There had been a
car accident near the hospital. A father and
son were killed.
The officer handed me a little wooden box.
“We found this in the passenger seat. I’m
sorry for your loss.”
I pressed the button, and the lid popped
open. On top was a card, written in a childish
scrawl: “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom! Dad’s
cookies are delicious! Enjoy!”
The cookies were still warm. But the person
who made them was gone.
My husband and son… died on their way to
the hospital to spend the holiday with me.
The grief was unbearable. I was shattered.
I wanted to end it all, to jump into the ocean.
And then, a cold, robotic voice spoke up.
It said: Marrying Jake will bring your husband
and son back to life.
I found a sliver of hope in the darkness. But
fifteen years went by, and nothing changed.
Then Alex invented the time machine, and I
knew it was time for me to finally reunite with
my family.
I opened the door to the apartment I hadn’t
seen in fifteen years, my eyes blurry. I crept
into the living room, afraid of shattering this
dream.
In the kitchen, I saw two figures, focused on
the oven.
“Dad, are they ready yet? I’m hungry.”
“Five more minutes. Just wait. Maybe Mom
will be home soon.”
Yeah, I was home. Most important, they were
here, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
I really had gotten them back.
My grip loosened, and my purse hit the floor.
They both turned around.
Chris scooped up my son from the stool and
walked toward me, holding his hand.
“Hey, Dr. Karen’s home.”
“Yeah, I’m home,” I said, fighting back tears. I
knelt down and hugged my son. “What did
Chris make you?”
He pouted. “Dad only made me four
chocolate chip ones, and all the rest are
snickerdoodle ones for Mom.”
Chris sighed.
“You’re telling on me after I just cheered you
in You know Dr. Karon works hard all the
く
- up. You know Karen works hard all the
time. I just made a bunch she likes.”
My heart soared, and I tugged on the hem of
Chris‘ shirt. “Thanks, Chris.”
“Ding!” The oven timer went off, and Chris
went into the kitchen.
“You must be tired. I made tea for you.”
My family was together, happy and well.
There was no longer an empty void below,
and the sounds of children’s laughter could
be heard everywhere.
In my hands, I had a cup of lukewarm tea. On
the soft cushion beside me, my son was
dozing off. And behind me, my husband held
く
me tight, loving me with all his heart.
Suddenly, I started crying, unable to help
myself. Chris handed me a tissue. “Who made
my Karen cry?”
I looked up at Chris through my tear–filled
eyes, his shaggy hair falling across his
forehead, a warm light in his eyes.
I said the most cliché thing I could think of.
“Chris, I missed you so much.”
His ears visibly turned pink.
