Until We Meet Again

“I guess so. I mean…what if I can travel into nineteen

twentyfive?”

“Or what if I can come into the future?” Lawrence asks.

“I say we go to your time first. You’re living in the cooler era.”

“That so?”

“Definitely. I mean, I’m a fan of women’s rights and smartphones, but you have flappers and speakeasies and Fitzgerald.”

“So you know a little about my time, then, I guess?”

“Sure. We had a whole unit on the Roaring Twenties in

English when we read The Great Gatsby.”

Lawrence’s brow wrinkles, as if I just spoke in Chinese. I realize

those phrases are probably all modern iterations. And The Great

Gatsby probably isn’t widely known yet, if it’s even published yet.

“Things were much more exciting in your time,” I say. “More

pure. More honest. More, I don’t know…alive, I guess.”

His laugh carries a hint of bitterness. “I’m not so sure about

that. But here’s hoping things change in the next few years for

the better.”

Like the Great Depression? The Dust Bowl. World War II.

All right around the corner. And Lawrence is going to live

through them. My heart sinks a little. I give him a quick, sidelong glance, envisioning him in a soldier’s uniform, storming the beaches at Normandy. Chills run over my skin and I shudder involuntarily.

“You okay?” Lawrence asks, his brow lowering.

I look away from his gaze. “Fine. Just got cold for a second.”

Should I warn him? Maybe toss out a subtle “I wouldn’t do

much investing in the stock market, if I were you.” Or, “Keep

an eye on the Germans. They’re still pissed about World War I,

and it’s not over yet. Not even close.”

I follow the thought through a few scenarios. If I told him,

would anyone believe him? Hey, I met this girl from 2015 on

the beach, and she said we should assassinate some German

guy named Adolf Hitler.

Yeah, right.

Would it even help Lawrence? Maybe knowing all the crap

he’s about to face would make him go crazy. If the world was

about to end, would I want to know about it?

“What’s wrong?” Lawrence asks, breaking my train of

thought. “You look scared all of a sudden.”

I rub my arms, unable to shake the cold. “It’s…really weird to

know some of the things that are going to happen in America

in the next few decades.”

Lawrence perks up. “What kind of things?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Aw, come on! You can’t tease like that.”

“I’m serious,” I say. “It seems unethical somehow.”

“All right then. Have it your way. If you won’t tell me about

your time, at least tell me more about you. I can’t help but wonder

if you’re related to my Uncle Ned through the generations.”

“I don’t think so. My mom and stepdad rented this place

a few months ago. Apparently, it had been sitting empty for

forever.”

“So, you’re not from the North Shore?”

“No. I hail from the most boring town in the most boring

state in the Union.”

A smile tugs at Lawrence’s lips. “Ohio?”

I laugh. “How did you guess?”

“I’m from America too, you know, albeit a slightly earlier

version.”

“Maybe not as much has changed as you think.”

“Maybe,” he says, his brown eyes shining. “So, what do you

do in Ohio? I take it from your clever conversation that you’re

being educated?”

“I guess. When I actually make it to class.”

“I think that’s swell. A lot of girls I know have no interest in

learning. They don’t see the point.”

“Thank goodness for progress.”

“You said it. I admire a gal who likes to learn.”

I shrug, but I feel undeniably light inside at his compliment.

We walk in comfortable silence. I steal another glance at him.

He looks sharp in his slacks and linen button shirt with the

sleeves rolled up to the elbows. That’s probably as casually as

they dress in the 1920s. His hair is feathered by the wind in a

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