Entangled

Dedicated to all couples who wish they would have met earlier in life — “Of course, minute as its impact may be in our physical universe, the fact of quantum entanglement is this: If one logically inexplicable thing is known to exist, then this permits the existence of all logically inexplicable things. A thing may be of deeper impossibility than another, in the sense that you can be more deeply underwater — but whether you are five feet or five fathoms from the surface you are still all wet.” — Brian McGreevy, Hemlock Grove ─── Chapter 1 — Otherworld Ariana stares at the white sheet of paper while the professor discusses the physics exam with the class. She flips it over slowly, horrified by the red ink mocking her from the back. “You all thought all my rambling about theoretical physics was a waste of time. But it paid off for all who paid attention.” A wicked smile draws across the professor’s lips. Ariana certainly did not pay attention. She glances in shame at the bonus question and the cringeworthy answer about parallel universes she scribbled down. “What is quantum entanglement?” the professor reads in a proud tone. “Who wants to answer?” Ariana lowers her head. Certainly not me. The professor chooses a girl sitting right in front of her, who reads from her paper: “Quantum entanglement is a quantum mechanical phenomenon in which the quantum states of two or more objects have to be described with reference to each other, even though the individual objects may be spatially separated. For example, it is possible to prepare two particles in a single quantum state such that when one is observed to be spin-up, the other one will always be observed to be spin-down and vice versa, this despite the fact that it is impossible to predict, according to quantum mechanics, which set of measurements will be observed. As a result, measurements performed on one system seem to be instantaneously influencing other systems entangled with it.” All Ariana hears is blah blah blah. The professor collects the tests and dismisses the class. Ariana exits the crowded classroom with a bitter smile. Her stomach clenches and nausea spreads through her chest. A B- on her first test. To her, that is not acceptable — not in college. As she walks through the narrow hallways looking for the exit, her eyes clash with a pair of coffee-colored ones belonging to a young man she recognizes. His smile pierces through her heart. For that brief moment nothing else matters, and she is left with a feeling of bliss. She breaks eye contact and walks faster toward the exit. A memory snaps into her mind. A memory of the tenth grade, the last time they spoke. She was in line in the school cafeteria, talking with her best friend. She was telling her she had heard that the new boy, Lemasi, liked her. “Who’s Lemasi?” she asked her friend. Before her friend could respond, she heard: “It’s me.” He was right behind her. Her cheeks flushed warm as a summer Saturday morning. She did not know what to say, but she would never forget what he said. “And you are Ariana K. Nieves.” “Wait… but… how do you… know my name…” “Because you are the love of my life. You just don’t know it yet.” If her cheeks were warm before, they now burned like molten lava. She recalls how she turned forward quickly to hide her nervousness. “I realize this isn’t the right time. But when you’re ready, I’ll find you.” Too strange for words. She was speechless, and for whatever reason, that was the last time they spoke. He squints his eyes. “Are you okay?” She snaps out of her memories and barely makes eye contact. “Um… yes, sorry, you kind of took me by surprise. I can be a bit shy.” “You look exactly the same as when we last spoke. Beautiful and beet red.” “Oh no — sorry.” She covers her burning cheeks with both hands and laughs. “I’m messing with you. In fact, it only makes you look prettier — if that’s even possible.” His eyes stay fixed on her face. She giggles while looking away. “You’re not helping, you know.” “I know,” he says, pressing his lips together. “Listen, not to be rude, but I’m in a hurry — I have pre-calculus now.” She keeps walking fast, but he matches her pace. “How about we meet for lunch tomorrow?” “Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” She feels bad for saying it, but it is only half a lie. “I’m not jealous. How about we go get your favorite meal — pasta primavera? I know a great Italian place.” Her mouth falls open and she instinctively puts a hand on her chest. “Wait — how do you know that’s… my… favorite dish?” “Because, believe it or not, I know you from another life.” She laughs from the heart. “That’s so funny. But I don’t believe in any of that.” “I know you don’t.” He winks. “But seriously, how did you know?” “Because I know you as if I gave birth to you.” She glances at her pink watch. “I’ll be honest with you. This is kind of creepy — that you know that about me. And I don’t feel comfortable going out with you.” “That’s okay. I understand. But tell me that when we connected eyes back there, you felt it too.” “Felt what?” “That feeling of bliss. Like nothing else mattered. Like you found what you were always looking for.” She pauses. Her heart starts to race because somehow this is true. She felt something. But now she is confused about what it was. “Sorry, I have to go.” She storms through the building’s glass exit doors. ─── Chapter 2 — A Fleeting Dream The sun shines brightly over grass, dirt, and her heart. She looks back and Lemasi is still pacing behind her on the mountain trail. “Wait — how many miles did you say this hike was?” “Come on, it’s only three miles. We’re almost there.” She points to the peak, enveloped by clear blue sky. “Yeah, three miles if measured with a ruler. With all the steepness, turns, and workarounds, it’s more like thirty.” “Well, my little sloth, next time stay away from the Oreos and get in shape.” She laughs wholeheartedly. “Wow. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words shall never hurt me.” “The map says it’s only one more mile. You can do it.” “Of course I can do it — I could climb this mountain three times if I wanted to.” Then he whispers loudly, “Just not on the same day.” She laughs. “As a little incentive, I’ll let you kiss me when we get to the top.” She opens her eyes. Her bedroom is bathed in the soothing white light of morning. The alarm clock reads 6:55 AM. She stays in bed, wrapped in that feeling of bliss. She would have rather stayed in that strange dream. But Lemasi? Since when does she dream about him? She lingers there, trying not to let the dream slip away, and then realizes it is impossible to forget. This was not just a dream. It was a memory. In her mind, this hiking trip with Lemasi happened about ten years ago, when they were both forty-three. But she is only eighteen. How can she recall something that has not happened yet? She jumps out of bed and paces her cozy bedroom. She looks at her hands and sees how young they are, yet a lifetime of memories lives inside her head. She recalls marrying Lemasi when they were forty-five. The memory of a sunset, a sea breeze, and his voice saying “I do” feels as real as anything she has ever known. Beep! Beep! The alarm startles her. It reads 7:00 AM. A nagging feeling that she has something to do — a goal of some sort — will not let her mind rest. But she also realizes she had better head for campus. This morning’s biology test is very real, and duty calls. After a quick shower, she climbs into her old Jeep Patriot and drives toward campus. Yesterday’s conversation suddenly makes sense. Their first date was at Olive Garden. She recalls how, even though they went to high school and college together, they did not truly connect until years later, over Facebook chat. He remembered that she loves pasta primavera. The smell of fresh vegetables, the way his coffee-colored eyes met hers across the table, the sight of perfectly cooked penne pasta bathed in seasoned olive oil, his full lips as he laughed, the way he made her feel like no one else existed — it all floods back. A first date for the ages. But reason intervenes. She does not understand how these memories live inside her head. And she feels like she is forgetting something. But what? In a way it still feels like a dream, but she has already pinched herself, and the pain was very real. One thing is certain: as soon as she can, she will find Lemasi and figure this out. On campus, she checks her pink watch. It is almost time for biology, and today is the first test. Normally she would walk to class lost in thought, but today she pays attention to every face in her path, hoping to spot Lemasi. By the time she reaches the classroom, she has had no luck. During the exam, her mind wanders through these strange memories. She recalls that Lemasi always mentioned needing at least three coffees a day in college. As soon as she finishes the test, she heads to the cafeteria. Even if he is not there, she could use some coffee of her own. She steps into the crowded cafeteria, does a quick scan, and spots Lemasi at the end of the ordering line. “Hey, Lem.” He turns around. “Oh, hi.” She greets him with a smile. “How are you?” “Um… I’m doing well… I remember you from high school. Ariana, right?” She blushes. She was not expecting this response. “Yes… We talked yesterday… remember?” He frowns. “We did?” “You’re joking, right?” she says, her tone sharpening. His forehead dampens with sweat. “No, sorry. I swear — I would have recalled.” He lowers his head and turns back to the line. She feels bad for how she asked, but it suddenly hits her. Yesterday’s conversation happened when Lemasi’s higher self took over his younger body. What now? She watches him and her heart warms. He used to tell her stories about being this shy, at least with strangers. She thinks it is endearing, and it feels like a blessing to see this long-lost side of him again. She clears her throat. “So… I bet you’re here for coffee…” He turns around and barely makes eye contact. “Yes…” “With milk, two packets of Splenda, and a touch of cinnamon.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Wow. That was oddly specific. But yes — how did you know?” “Lucky guess. I’m here for coffee too. Can I join you?” “Of course.” They reach the cashier and she pays for both coffees, chuckling inwardly. She knows this version of him has no problem with it, but the man he becomes would never let anyone else pay. They carry their cups to the wooden picnic tables and sit. She cannot get over how young he looks. But so does everyone else. Including her. He takes a sip of the sweet coffee. “Are you okay? You look pensive.” She snaps out of her thoughts. “Yes… sorry… It’s been a weird day.” She now recalls her mission — why she soul-traveled — and it is going to be harder than they thought. He blushes. “I know what you mean. It’s been a weird day for me too.” “How come?” He smiles. “It’s not every day a girl comes up and asks to join me for coffee.” He laughs. “Thanks again for paying.” She laughs too. So many memories of him. But none from their college days. As well as she knows him, this version feels like a stranger. And how come he does not remember yesterday? “Would it sound crazy if I told you I know you from… well… another life, maybe?” He chokes slightly on his coffee and coughs. “Sorry about that.” “No, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not feeling well today.” “Don’t apologize. I do believe in other lives. In fact, I’m just finishing reading Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian Weiss.” She recalls he made her read that book after they started dating in 2022. It never made sense to her — nor did Biocentrism. She always regarded his beliefs as mysticism. “I read it too…” “I think it’s interesting. Please — tell me what you recall from that other life.” Even though this sounds crazy, she knows it will not sound crazy to him. He always believed in other lives, parallel universes, and the afterlife, yet he always managed to ground it in science or logic. “We met in 2022, over the internet. We chatted almost daily. At the time you were still married and I was divorced. But somehow we fell in love.” He blushes. “Wow…” “Sorry if that sounds insane.” “It doesn’t. To be honest, I haven’t even had a girlfriend in my life. At least I can say it sounds romantic, and I hope to have one someday.” “You did have some girlfriends before me, but I was the most important one.” She bursts into an almost giddy laugh. He wipes his forehead with a napkin and laughs nervously. “Sorry — I sweat when I’m nervous.” She recalls he mentioned having social anxiety when he was young. “I think I have social anxiety,” he continues. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “No, no, you’re fine.” He checks his watch. “Listen, I have to get to the computer lab. But… can I have… your… phone number?” “Of course.” The thought of writing it on paper sparks an idea — a tactic that might work. She pulls a notebook from her backpack, tears out a page, and writes a message before folding it. “I won’t give you my number today, but I might on Friday — if you bring me this note back.” She hands it to him. He frowns. “You want me to bring this back on Friday?” “Yes. If you don’t find me in the cafeteria, look for me at the science building.” He tucks the note into his pocket. “Okay… Thank you for the company. Have a good day.” He stands and leaves. A warm tear runs down her cheek as she watches him go. She now understands why she is here and why this is happening. In the future, they missed having a child together. They believed that by reconnecting earlier in life, they might fall in love sooner — and have the family they never got the chance to build. ─── Chapter 3 — This Is Our Story Ariana wakes up and cannot stop thinking about what a strange day yesterday was. She has never had memory gaps like this — stretches where she cannot recall what happened. It feels like amnesia, and she wonders if she should see a doctor. As she steps out of bed, her head aches and her neck is stiff. Another tension headache. She brushes it off as not having slept well. A hot shower, a Tylenol, and a dose of determination carry her out the door and toward campus. ─── Walking toward the old science building, her eyes lock with Lemasi’s, sending a strange calm down through her chest. “Hey, you!” he says. “Hey…” “I’d tell you we’re meant to be together. But of course, you won’t believe it.” They both say it at the same time: “Because I don’t believe in the mystical.” They laugh. A rush of adrenaline tingles through her body. “How did you know I’d say that?” “Because I know you as if I gave birth to you,” he smirks. She laughs and rolls her eyes. “That again.” “Sorry, but it’s true. I know you hate me, but would you at least have lunch with me?” “Hey, I don’t hate you.” She giggles, then looks at her watch, then at his brown eyes, then at the glass doors of the building entrance. “But I have class now.” “Always the responsible one. That’s one of the things I like about you.” “Stop acting as if you know me,” she says, fighting back a smile. He shrugs, smirking. She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll skip class and have lunch with you. But only because I’m hungry.” “And because you like me.” “What?” she protests. “What?” He laughs. They take the narrow path toward the cafeteria. Ariana feels the steady burn of Lemasi’s gaze on her face. Her shyness keeps her from making eye contact, and she wonders where this sudden interest in her comes from. He could have spoken up back in high school. Or maybe he did? I’m so absent-minded. In the cafeteria he pays for lunch, and they sit at the same wooden table as before. “You know, you grow to have a spiritual side.” He takes a spoonful of rice and beans. “What do you mean?” “You once took me to a beautiful tropical forest called Las Tinajas. Quite the adventure.” “I don’t know any place by that name.” “Yet.” He winks. “Once there — and after I fell on my butt a few times — you took me to your favorite spot. You told me I’d experience something for myself, a vision of some sort. At first I got scared. I thought you were taking me to see an alien or a ghost. I can sometimes be a scaredy-cat.” He chuckles. She laughs. “You’re crazy.” She takes a generous bite of her tripleta sandwich and stares at him. “But instead, you had me sit on a huge rock near a beautiful river and a majestic waterfall and asked me to stay in silence and take in the view. The water bodies were adorned with lush trees and all kinds of plant life. I could suddenly hear the insects, the chirping of the birds, the flow of the water, the singing of the trees — I could even feel your breathing and the sweet scent of your skin. A beautiful harmony, a perfect concert of nature that plays only on that spot. I started to understand what you meant. Plants, animals, us humans — we are one and part of the same whole. That day, at forty-three years old, we softly kissed for the first time and became a couple. Forever. Even after death.” “That doesn’t sound like me. Are you sure this wasn’t some other girlfriend?” She smirks. He laughs and takes a sip from his Coca-Cola can. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s you.” “This can’t be me because—” They both finish the sentence at the same time: “—I’m an atheist.” She stares at him, baffled that he keeps finishing her sentences. His demeanor shifts to something serious. “Listen. I have something I want you to do for me.” She squints. “What is it?” “Give me a moment.” He tears a page from his notebook and writes something with a black pen, then folds it. “Here, bring me this on Friday. I may be in the cafeteria or at the technology building. But please don’t read it. It’s for me.” He hands the folded white paper to her. She takes it. “Hm… Okay… I think you’ve got a few screws loose, but I respect your privacy.” He checks his black Casio watch. “Sorry, I need to head to class.” “But you haven’t even finished half your plate.” “I know. Please enjoy the rest of your lunch. I hope you find me.” He picks up his tray and heads toward the exit. I hope you find me. This guy is odd. And rude — he made her skip class and now he just leaves for his own like that. But as she watches him go, she admits there is something she likes about him. She just cannot stand his cocky attitude. Guys like that are nothing but trouble, and she is tired of their kind. ─── Chapter 4 — Hymn of the Fayth If I could cry, I would. I feel it too. I share the deep, dark tears that consume you. This is our last chance. Tomorrow the two of us will meet — our younger selves. No more tampering. What do you think is going to happen? I’m hoping young me is smart enough to fall for you. But that version of me is so shy and absent-minded. If you don’t, I can’t blame you. Younger me doesn’t know how to properly dress, let alone have any game with women. That innocent side of you is what made me fall in love. What makes you different and unique — it’s the part of you I can never get enough of. Hopefully we’ve interfered enough so these two absent-minded boneheads hit it off. We share this timeless bond. We’ll feel it. But we can’t interfere with the timeline anymore without leaving them memory gaps. What if it doesn’t work? Then we’ll have to respect that having children wasn’t meant to be. I’ll be crushed. So will I. There will be tears — wherever the tears of the soul go. I’m feeling bad about this. I’m feeling positive. Just have a little faith. Thanks to you, I do. ─── Chapter 5 — Leap in the Dark Friday morning. The sky wears the perfect shade of baby blue, and a calm spring breeze makes the trees dance. Ariana heads out for her only class of the day, carrying Lemasi’s note in her purse. She can only think that this must be some odd tactic he is playing on her. But she gave her word and she will return it. Before class she takes a quick look in the cafeteria. He is not there. She recalls he said he might be in the computer science building, but she does not feel like searching through it and decides to wait for class in the library instead. After class she checks the computer science building. No sign of him. She decides on one last attempt at the cafeteria. He is not there either, but she orders a coffee and waits. Minutes pass. She starts to think this is one of his games and that he is not even on campus today. She takes a final glance at her watch and decides it is time to go home. The mischievous tropical weather releases its dark clouds, covering the sun and her remaining will to search. She crosses the still-warm gravel of the parking lot. “Ariana.” She turns. Lemasi stands a few yards away, slightly out of breath. “Sorry — I was about to leave when I saw you. I came running. You asked me to return this to you. Hold on.” His forehead glistens with sweat and he pulls a folded piece of white paper from his backpack, handing it to her. She takes it cautiously. “Wait — I did what? You were the one who asked me to return a note. I’ve been looking for you most of the day. I thought you were playing games, and I’m not in the mood.” He frowns. “I don’t understand.” She pulls his note from her purse. “Here.” “You’re saying… I… told you to give this to me… today?” He shakes his head slightly. “Yes, you did. What I don’t understand is why you gave me this note in the first place. Is this some sort of game?” He shakes his head again. “Honestly, I’m as confused as you are.” “Well… thanks for the note, I guess. Is your car far? I can take you to it.” “It’s a bit far, yes. But I don’t mind walking. Thank you.” He turns and starts walking. “It’s the least I can do. Hop in.” He stops and turns toward her. “Okay. I appreciate it.” They drop into the hot seats of her Jeep. “Sorry — the AC isn’t working. Pull down the windows.” The engine rumbles to life. She tilts her head toward him. “Where’s your car?” “About five rows that way.” He points to the far end of the lot. As she drives, he unfolds the note she gave him and reads it silently. His voice comes out unsteady. “This is my own handwriting. How is this possible?” She glances over. He looks pale. “I swear I had nothing to do with it. You gave that to me.” “That’s impossible. Please check yours.” “I will as soon as we stop.” He points to a white Mitsubishi Mirage. “That’s mine.” She pulls up beside it and puts the car in park. She takes the note from her purse and reads it in silence. For a long moment she sits perfectly still, stunned. It is unmistakably her handwriting. Her heart starts to race. “How did you do this?” He shakes his head. “Do what?” “This — copy my handwriting.” She tilts the note so he can see. “I swear it wasn’t me. You gave this to me on Tuesday and asked me to return it today.” Her face flushes. “I don’t even remember meeting you on Tuesday.” “And I don’t remember writing the note you gave me.” He pauses and reads it again. “It says I should… well…” “Yes?” “Can I… have your phone number?” He clenches his jaw. “No. I’m sorry.” “Or… maybe lunch tomorrow?” “I’ve got plans tomorrow. I’m sorry.” She grips the steering wheel. “Listen, it’s getting late. I need to head home.” “That’s okay… Asking you — it’s part of what the note said I should do. For a moment I thought it was a sign from God.” “I’m an atheist, so I doubt it.” “Or maybe you’re playing a sick joke on me. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl’s done that.” Her tone rises and her face burns. “Now I’m very offended. I would never do that. I thought you were the one playing games. Forget it.” “I’m sorry to bother you. Have a good afternoon.” He steps out and closes the door gently. “Thank you. Drive safe,” she says in a flat voice. She watches him walk to his car through the side mirror, then pulls out of the spot and drives toward the exit. ─── The rain arrives in thin, uncertain lines against the windshield. She flicks the wipers on low and merges onto the road. For the first few minutes she replays the argument, her jaw tight. The nerve of him — accusing her of playing a joke. After she spent half the day looking for him. After she paid for his coffee on Tuesday, or whenever it was. She grips the wheel harder and exhales through her nose. But the anger fades sooner than she expects, and what replaces it is worse: silence. The kind that settles in the chest and has nowhere to go. She thinks about how different he was today. The cocky, all-knowing version from earlier in the week — the one who winked, who claimed to know her from another life, who knew her favorite dish before she ever spoke — was gone. In his place stood a quiet boy who could barely hold eye contact. Whose forehead glistened with sweat when he was nervous. Who said “sorry” three times in two minutes. Two versions of the same person. And here is the part that unsettles her: she liked today’s version better. A traffic light turns red. She stops and stares at the rain beading on the hood of the Jeep. She reaches for the note on the passenger seat and unfolds it again. Her own handwriting. Neat, slightly slanted to the right, the way she has written since middle school. The loop on the lowercase y, the way she crosses her t — unmistakable. Give Lemasi a chance. You might not see it now, but he is the love of your life. He will make you happy. She reads it twice. Then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something that makes sense. The light turns green. She folds the note and drives. A few blocks pass. She turns onto the highway on-ramp, and without warning her eyes begin to sting. She blinks it away. Then it comes back, stronger, and a tear slips down her left cheek. She laughs at it — a short, confused sound — because she does not understand why she is crying. She is not sad, exactly. Not angry anymore, either. It is something else entirely. Something that lives underneath both of those feelings, in a room she did not know existed. The tears come harder. They are warm and fast and they leap from her cheeks and land on her jeans. She presses her lips together and breathes through her nose, trying to steady herself, but her chest aches with a hollowness she cannot name. She thinks about the waterfall story he told her — the one about Las Tinajas, the massive rock by the river, the insects and the birds and the perfect concert of nature. How he said they kissed there for the first time. How he said “even after death,” as if love was something that did not require a body. She did not believe a word of it. She still doesn’t. And yet her hands are shaking on the wheel. She exits the highway and turns onto the familiar streets near her apartment. The rain has thickened and the wipers squeal against the glass. She pulls into her usual parking spot but does not turn off the engine. She sits there, letting the Jeep idle, the dashboard humming softly. The crying has stopped, but the emptiness has not. It sits in the center of her chest like a held breath. She tries to reason through it the way she reasons through everything — cause and effect, evidence, logic. None of it reaches. She picks up the note one more time. He will make you happy. She thinks about how, in the tenth grade, he told her she was the love of his life and she had no idea how to respond. She thinks about how today he could not even ask for her phone number without clenching his teeth. She thinks about the distance between those two versions of him — one who knew everything and one who knew nothing — and wonders where the truth lives. Maybe she was too hard on him. The thought is small and quiet, but it does not go away. She turns off the engine. The rain drums on the roof. She folds the note carefully, tucks it back into her purse, and sits in the dark car for a long while. When she finally opens the door and steps into the rain, the emptiness has not left her chest. But sitting beside it now — barely there, faint as a pulse — is something else. Not certainty. Not faith. Nothing she could name or defend if pressed. Just wonder. Maybe she will find him next week. Maybe she will share lunch with him again and pay attention this time — not to the version of him who claims to know her soul, but to the one who sweats and stumbles and says sorry too much. The one who is real. She walks to her front door, rain soaking through her shirt, and pauses with her key in the lock. She does not know what any of this means. She does not believe in other lives, or signs from God, or quantum entanglement as a metaphor for love. But the note is in her purse. And it is her handwriting. And something in her chest — quiet, stubborn, impossible — will not let her forget it. She turns the key and steps inside.