Not This Time

Nina: April 16, 1987

     Matt and Emma were waiting outside my crew room door when I got there. I was never sure how they figured out which room was mine, but they always seemed to find it. Emma looked over at me with a smile as I drew closer. I couldn't smile back. I knew why they were there, and it wasn't just a social call.
     From the moment Jon had said that name, I'd known Matt would be around somewhere. He was ready to take me home, but I wasn't ready to go. I had no intention of going anywhere until Jon told me that he'd chosen to try again with Dorothea. Until that happened, I had to believe that he loved me more than her. It was the only thing that made risking his future bearable.
     "You ready to go?" Matt asked when he saw me. I offered a tight-lipped smile, much like the one I'd given Jon just a minute or two ago when I'd left his room. Matt crossed his arms and frowned at my obvious hesitation.
     "Let me get them started getting ready," I said, making up a quick excuse as I pointed to the crew room door, "Then we'll talk."
     "You mean leave, right?" Matt challenged as I unlocked the door.
     Ignoring his question, I pushed into the room and let the door fall closed behind me. Gunther, Keith, Mikey, and Finn all looked over at me for just a second before returning their collective attention back to the cooking show they were watching. They had plenty of time to get ready for show. They'd done it a million times already.
     No, my mind was still focused on buying time. I had to get back to Jon before Matt took me back to my time. I had to know who he chose, what future he wanted. How was I going to do it, though? Setlists. I had to finish the setlists. That's right. Matt didn't know anything about pre-show prep. That could work.
     "Hey Gunther," I prompted, picking up one of the hotel pens from the nightstand as I looked around the room for the notebook he took to shows with him. He always had it during shows, but I never knew what he did with it during the time between sets.
     "What's up?" Gunther replied.
     "May I have a few sheets of lined paper from your notebook please?"
     With a nod, Gunther leaned over the other side of the bed and produced the notebook from somewhere I couldn't see. He ripped four pages off the spiral and held them out to me without question. I smiled and took the papers from him. He didn't seem interested in why I wanted the paper, even if I would have told him.
     "Thanks," I muttered. I started to head back toward the door, but then I remembered. "Oh yeah," I sighed, turning back to the crew for a second, "Don't forget. We're not coming back to the hotel, so make sure you get all your personal items in order."
     "We know," Mikey grumbled without even looking away from the television. I didn't respond to the annoyance in his tone. He very pointedly turned up the volume on the program they were watching, just in case I had any other reminders for them. With that, I stepped back out into the hallway.
     Emma was seated on the floor and was tracing the pattern in the carpet. Matt was pacing up and down the hall in front of my door, impatiently. They both looked up and over at me as I closed the door behind me.
     Matt's eyes instantly fell on the papers in my hand. "What are those for?" he asked, crossing to me and snatching them away. He flipped them over and thumbed through the blank pages, examining them like they might have something written on them in invisible ink.
     "Setlists," I retorted, snatching the lined paper right back. I started down the hall, toward the fire escape stairs. I knew that if Matt and I burst into an argument, that would be the least likely place for anyone to hear us. Matt scoffed, glancing at Emma before trotting down the hall after me. Emma rose to her feet as well and ran to catch up with us.
     Matt, trying to keep up with my stride, pointed to the papers. "Whatever plan this is to stay here longer, it's not going to work," he said. I yanked open the fire stair door but turned to frown at Matt.
     "There's a show in a few hours," I told him, "I have to get these setlists done."
     "You have to go home," he answered.
     I scoffed and started into the stairwell, leaving Matt to catch the door for Emma and himself. I didn't understand his persistence. What was he so afraid would happen? Displacement? I hadn't even been in the 80s a whole year since the last time I'd been home. He and I both knew I could make it at least an entire year before any displacement started becoming obvious, if it even happened at all.
     "Why?" I challenged, "Why do I have to go? There's still a tour tha-"
     "You know what happens if you go," Matt interrupted, grabbing my shoulder to turn me around so that we were facing one another. He glared as he went on, "You know the tour turns out alright. You know he lives happily ever after, but do you know what happens if you stay?"
     I didn't answer. He knew I didn't know what would happen. I didn't even have to shake my head. My silence was confirmation enough for everyone.
     "If you stay," Matt growled, taking a step closer, "Displacement ruins all of time. That's his past, your present, and my future. All of it," he snapped his fingers for emphasis, "Rewritten. Everything that you've done, everything that's happened here could unhappen because of some time anomaly."
     I blinked in surprise at the conviction in his words. He spoke like he knew what he was talking about. He spoke like Granpa used to talk about Hell. Like he was certain. Still, as intimidating as his words were, they were only words. I'd learned long ago not to put stock in what Granpa said, and this felt much the same. There was that one word going through my head every time Matt spoke about displacement.
     Theoretically..
     "That's just an idea and you know it," I spat, "You don't know that's what would happen!"
     "It's the most popular theory!" Matt defended, "It makes the most sense!"
     I tilted my head and gaped at him incredulously. "The most sense?!" I argued, "How does it make sense that an abstract concept like time could move physical objects through itself?" I paused and shook my head with tiny little shakes, unable to fathom it. "That's the most confusing and ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
     "I told you!" Emma declared, pointing at Matt.
     Matt frowned over his shoulder at her and then back at me. "I didn't say it was simple," he scoffed, "I said it was the most popular theory!"
     "Just because it's popular belief doesn't make it true," I countered. Matt opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't let him. I wasn't through. "For a long time, it was popular belief that the universe revolved around the earth. Just a century or two ago, it was popular belief that slavery was okay!" I snapped.
     "Yeah, but-"
     I shook my head, going on as if he hadn't spoken, "When I started public school, it was popular belief that I'd moved from another town. When I did move to another town, it was popular belief that I was a prostitute!" I ranted, "And even now! Now, it's popular belief that I'm just an ordinary girl in the 80s. But none of those things are true, are they?"
     Matt stood speechless. Emma almost looked like she was on my side, but she didn't say anything either. I rolled my eyes and turned away to continue down the stairs. I'd gotten down a whole flight and a half before Matt came pouncing down the steps after me. He stopped in front of me and glared.
     "It's popular belief that you're just a normal girl in a relationship with a normal guy, but that's not true," he hissed. I was a little caught off guard by the tone of his voice. He sounded like he'd said that with a purpose. The thought crossed my mind that his purpose for saying it was to hurt me, but it was more realistic that his purpose was to remind me. It hurt nonetheless.
     "I rest my case," I mumbled, shoving past him with a death glare.
     "You knew it was never going to work out," he called after me. I stopped in my tracks, but didn't look back at him. He didn't sound smug or intentionally cruel when he continued, in fact he almost sounded sympathetic. "He's going to pick her," he said, "I told you not to get involved."
     Matt's feet shuffled against the stairs as he stepped around me once more. I still didn't look at him. I didn't want to believe he was right. I refused to believe it. I believed in Jon. There was no point in loving him if I didn't trust him to love me back.
     "How about we make a deal?" Matt offered. I looked up at him and glared, but still said nothing. He nodded down the stairs. "We go down to the lobby, out in the open, no tricks," he suggested, tapping the papers in my hand "And you can write him a goodbye letter. We can leave it on his bus or something, and then we go home."
     "It hasn't even been a year," I protested weakly.
     "But he's going to chose her," Matt repeated, "We both know he will."
     I frowned deeper. "You don't know that," I growled.
     "I do," Matt insisted gently with a small nod, "You do. Deep down, you do."
     He didn't know anything about what I knew deep down. If he did, he would have known that, deep down, the only thing there was how much I loved the life I was living. I loved Jon. I loved touring. I loved everything about it. And Matt had no idea. The only thing he knew was how Jon's life was supposed to go. Without me. I sniffled a little, the thought of losing it all finally coming back to me. Matt started to put a hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him away.
     "Fine," I choked, begrudgingly.
     I led them down the stairs, out into the lobby, and over to the area where the continental breakfast would have been that morning if any of us had bothered showing up for it. I sat down at one of the tables and frowned at the blank paper in front of me. I'd completely forgotten about the pen in my hand, though I'd been gripping it increasingly tighter throughout my conversation with Matt. So much so that when I released the pen, there was a mark on my hand from where the clip dug into my palm.
     Emma sat across from me while I wrote. In my peripheral vision, I could see her trying not to intrude on my personal letter, even though it was obvious that she was curious what I was writing. Matt was standing behind her, hands in pockets, looking around the lobby. He was probably watching for Jon to make sure my boyfriend didn't come and foil his plan to take me home.
     The more I wrote, the more it hurt. The thought of leaving him absolutely killed me. I blinked back tears, but one escaped as I neared the bottom of the first page. I picked up the paper and set it aside, making sure the water rolled off as I did so. Even so, it still smudged some of the ink.
     I continued onto a second page. There was only a little more I wanted to say, but the tears blurring my vision made it difficult to write. A few droplets fell on the paper, smearing not only a few words, but the blue lines on the paper as well as I wiped the water away. I choked back a sob as I wrote the parting phrase, but the dam broke when I signed my name.
     I tried to keep the letter clear of my crying, but another drop fell onto my signature. I watched it soak into the paper, causing the second half of my last name to bleed. I took the first paper and set it on top like I might reread it, but I knew I wasn't going to. As I blindly skimmed over my distressed handwriting, Jon's words came echoing back to me.
     I don't believe in predetermined fate, Nina. We get to make our own future, you and me.
     Him and me. I swallowed back another wave of tears and wiped my face on my arm. Emma was staring at me sympathetically. Matt was still watching the lobby, but I could sense his impatience. I blinked at the letter before me. I just couldn't do it.
     Her future shouldn't be my decision.
     His shouldn't be mine either. I shoved the chair back and jumped to my feet, drawing Matt's attention. He and Emma were both watching me curiously, if not cautiously. I frowned at the letter in my hand and, with a defiant shake of my head, crumpled it up.
     "What are you--?" Matt began.
     "I won't go," I announced, cutting him off. Matt frowned at me and I threw the ball of my letter across the lobby in response. He didn't scare me. Emma leapt out of her seat after the ball of paper, but I didn't care. "It's his future. He gets to tell me who he chooses."
     Matt scoffed and rolled his shoulders back in surprise. "He's going to pick her."
     "Says you," I argued, "He loves me."
     "He loves her more," Matt said.
     I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'll let him tell me that, but until he does, I'm not going anywhere."
     Matt just stood there for a minute, contemplating his options. He knew he couldn't force me to do anything. He didn't have the physical strength nor the mental constitution for it. As he stood there, trying to decide what to do and looking more and more trapped, Emma returned with the balled up letter in her hand.
     "Are you sure you want to do this, Nina?" she asked gently. I nodded. She mirrored me and then turned to her boyfriend. "Why don't we leave her alone for now," she whispered, trying to comfort him a little, "It's not like it's been a year yet. She can talk to Jon. Once he tells her what he's decided, then she can call us."
     Matt frowned at her, but less harshly than he had at me. "I'm just thinking of her," he pouted, "It's gonna be her who gets hurt."
     Emma glanced over at me and smiled awkwardly. She seemed very aware that they were having a conversation about me like I wasn't there, even though I very much was. She shrugged and gave Matt big, pleading eyes.
     "She wants to risk it. It's not your choice," she reminded him. She sounded like a teacher talking to a preschooler. Still glaring slightly, I watched Matt grumble something about her being right. Finally, he shrugged, hands still in his pockets, and returned my glare.
     "I don't like this," he sighed.
     "You think I do?" I replied.
     Matt rolled his eyes and yanked his hands out of his pockets dramatically, sort of like an angry child. Shaking his head, he took Emma's free hand, the one that wasn't holding the paper ball, and pointed at me with his other hand.
     "When he breaks your heart, call me," he instructed, "Emma and I will be back before you hang up the phone."
     "We'll see," I mumbled before turning and walking away from him.
     I stalked over to the elevators and pushed the button to go up. Two elevators dinged, one right after the other. The first elevator that opened for me was empty, so I stepped inside. From there, waiting for the doors to close, I watched Matt and Emma leave the hotel. They passed right by The Bozz, who was on his way in. A brunette walking away from me, presumably from that other elevator, entered my line of sight. As the doors started to close, I saw The Bozz smile at her and wave.
     "How'd it go, Dorothea?" I heard The Bozz say just before the doors slid shut in front of me. My blood ran cold all of a sudden and everything was still. The elevator didn't move; I hadn't told it where to go yet. I stared at the button that would take me to Jon's floor, but I couldn't press it. I was too nervous. What if he really had chosen her? How would I be able to handle that?
     I should have gone to see him, to talk to him, but I didn't. Not right away. I hid out on the roof for about ten minutes, like the scaredy cat I was. All I could think about was that letter, and the letter made me want to cry. When I'd finally fought back any tears and worked up the courage to talk to him, when I'd finally pushed the button that would take me to that floor, I was bombarded by crewmen.
     Gunther told me Jon was looking for me. When we got downstairs to the lobby, The Bozz told me the same thing. I knew Jon had told them that we needed to finish the setlist, but I knew he probably needed to talk to me about Dorothea, and I was dreading it. Once we were herded onto the buses, I tugged my coat on and curled up on one of the couches, trying to calm my nerves so that I wasn't such a mess when I did actually face Jon again.
     Something in one of my coat pockets was stabbing me. I reached in and pulled out the guitar pick necklace I'd left in that pocket months ago. The little red pick gleamed back at me and I smiled a little at the memory of how I'd gotten the necklace. Some random person. I shook my head and ran my thumb over the rough surface where the person's initials used to be. Suddenly I knew what I wanted to do with the necklace, since I'd never be able to wear it with the one Jon gave me. The necklace kept me well enough preoccupied until we reached the venue.
     I didn't see Jon until the band arrived at the stadium a few minutes after we'd gotten there. When he saw me, he looked kind of relieved, but I wasn't sure why. As soon as I was able, I grabbed the setlists we'd been working on earlier that afternoon and made my way to the band's dressing room.
     When I stepped into the dressing room, everyone looked up at me. After a minute, everyone else but Jon went about their business. Jon's eyes stayed on me, though. I fiddled with the papers I'd brought as I tentatively crossed the room toward him.
     "You didn't come back," Jon said. The tone in his voice was hard to identify. I couldn't tell if he was hurt or angry. Maybe worried? I just didn't know. Did it have something to do with that look of relief he'd had earlier?
     Whether it did or not, I shrugged it off and sighed, "Yeah, sorry, I got busy."
     "With what?"
     The bleeding signature came to mind. I closed my eyes against the image and pushed it back like the tears that were burning in my throat. I swallowed back that lump of tears and took a deep breath, still blinking as if there was water to blink back.
      "Personal stuff," I managed fairly evenly, though my voice cracked just the slightest bit.
     Jon noticed too. His expression softened just a little. Great. Now he was gonna know I'd been crying. He looked over my head and around the room at his band. When I followed his gaze, nobody was looking at us, but it was sort of obvious that they were still listening.
     "Let's go in here," Jon suggested, putting a hand on my arm to turn me toward the restroom. I set the papers I'd brought with me on top of his rollaway, letting him guide me toward the restroom door. He held the door open for me, glancing over his shoulder as he followed me into the restroom and let the door shut behind him. "What happened?" he asked, stepping over to me, "You look like you've been crying."
     For a moment, I considered answering him, but it was just too complicated. I didn't want to get into it. Instead, I asked, "How'd it go with Dorothea?"
     Jon's concerned expression vanished and was replaced with one of uncertainty. I couldn't figure out why he looked like that either. What confused me even more was what he said next.
     "What, Dotty? Nothing!" he declared sharply, defensively, "Nothing happened!"
     I could feel the furrow in my forehead as I stared at him. What did he mean nothing happened? Was something supposed to happen? Did that mean she didn't ask him to give her another chance? I was hesitant to believe that. All I could do was stare and tilt my head.
     "I asked how it went," I said slowly, sort of cautiously.
     Jon made a face, almost like he was pained. He took a deep breath and then sighed, "I kissed her."
     I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I'd been saying all along that he was going to end up with her. I don't know why it caught me so off guard that it had actually happened. I didn't know what to say at first. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed other women. It was just because it was Dorothea, I guess.
     "Oh," I uttered weakly, letting my gaze fall a little, "Well.." I nodded and absently stuck my hand into the pocket I'd put that necklace in earlier. I wasn't even sure why I'd done it; I didn't pull out the necklace. "I told you I'd be fine with it if you wanted her back," I said in a slightly stronger voice, not even realizing that Jon was shaking his head, "That's alright. I'll just-"
     "No! Nina, no I don't want her back!" Jon insisted, bringing his hands up to rest on my shoulders at the crook of my neck. He was still shaking his head when I looked up at him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I kissed her, but it didn't mean anything! I mean, I didn't mean-" He hesitated for a split second. "I don't know why I did it. I don't want her. I want you," he assured me, "I love you. I told her that too!"
     All I could do was stare. He didn't really give me a chance to speak anyway, even if I'd known what to say.
     "She wanted to get back together, give me and her another shot," he explained, looking me dead in the eye, "I told her no."
     I blinked at him in surprise. He wasn't supposed to tell her no. He was supposed to get back with her. He was supposed to marry her. Jon studied my face for a second. He looked like he was trying to decide if it was alright to go on. It took a little longer than it should have, but the idea finally connected in my head that he was choosing me instead of her. He wanted to be with me. A smile started forming on my face and Jon smirked at the sight of it.
     After another second, he bit his lip and went on. "And she knows about us," he informed me cautiously, "She'll keep it a secret, but I couldn't lie to her, Nina. She's still my friend. She's still important to me."
     I let out an airy laugh of disbelief as that small smile slowly grew into a big one. I didn't even care that he'd told her. I wasn't even concerned. I shook my head, still amazed. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him affectionately. He seemed confused, but he hugged me back.
     "Okay," I giggled into his shoulder.
     Jon pulled himself out of my arms and held me out in front of him. "Is that was you were crying about?" he wondered, giving me a confused look, "Were you worried about Dotty?"
     I shook my head, still grinning. "It doesn't matter!" I exclaimed happily, "It doesn't matter now!" I closed the distance between us and kissed him. He didn't get what he'd just done. With that decision, he'd probably changed the future I knew, but he was including me in the new one. When I broke the kiss, I stayed close, leaning my forehead against his.
     "What do you mean it doesn't matter?" he whispered.
     I just smiled some more, still shaking my head in disbelief. "I'm just so happy," I breathed back. Jon smiled a little at that and brushed some of my hair out of my face before I kissed him again, only slightly less passionately than the last time.
     He broke the kiss with his spontaneous chuckling. "Maybe we shouldn't make out in the bathroom," he snickered, leaning away from me a little. I giggled too and nodded.
     "Yeah, maybe not," I agreed. Jon nodded toward the door and started to step that way when I grabbed his wrist. "Wait," I said, reaching into my pocket. He looked back at me with another confused expression. I yanked the leather cord from my pocket and the pick necklace came flying out.
     Jon stepped back toward me and waited patiently for me to catch the swinging pick. I had scratched 'JBJ' into it with a pocket knife on the way to the stadium. Jon couldn't see that from where he was standing, though.
     "I'd wondered what had happened to that necklace," he commented, smirking at me, "It kind of disappeared after your birthday."
     I smiled up at him and then at the necklace for a second. "My friend Penny gave me this necklace," I recounted, wrapping my fingers around both ends of the leather cord and holding it up between us, "We were leaving a party. She was drunk. She told me some guy had given it to her and told her to give it to me. That was.." I trailed off to think for a second. "Ooh, about eight years ago. I was sixteen."
     "Well that's a random thing to think about," Jon snickered. He crossed his arms and shook his head at what probably felt like an out-of-place story for him, smirking nonetheless.
     "Supposedly, his initials were engraved on it at one point," I chuckled, "That's what she said, but, I mean, she couldn't even remember his name. She kept swearing up and down that he was, y'know, somebody famous." Jon smiled, but I could tell he was confused as to why I was telling him all this. I held the necklace out to him and the puzzlement on his face grew.
     "What?"
     "Take it," I said.
     Jon reached out and, as soon as his fingers were curled around the leather cord, I let go of the necklace. I watched him smile as he ran his fingers over the letters I'd scratched into the plastic. He shook his head and looked back up at me with that same confused expression.
     "Wait, why?" he asked.
     I stepped closer to him and looped my arms around his neck like we were dancing. "That guy who gave Penny the necklace," I began quietly, "Apparently, he'd told her that someone he'd loved very much had given it to him and that he wanted me to give it to someone I loved very much whenever I found them." Jon nodded, a knowing smirk spreading across hig face as he realized what I was saying. "I probably should have given it to you ages ago, but I wasn't even thinking about it until today."
     Jon smiled a little and held the necklace up to look at the pick. "I see you scratched my initials into it," he mused.
     I shrugged and smiled back. "Yeah," I confirmed, "I figured 'why not'. It's more your style than mine anyway."
     He snickered at my comment as he stepped around me toward the mirror. I followed and held his hair out of the way so that it didn't get caught in the knot. When I let go of his hair, we both stared at his reflection for a moment. Then he smiled at mine.
     "Thanks," he mumbled, looking over at me. I smiled back.
     "You got me a necklace," I joked, "I had to get you one."
     Jon grinned and shook his head, turning me away from the mirror. "What am I going to do with you?" he teased, resting his arm across the back of my shoulders. I leaned my head back on his arm and gave him a knowing look as we crossed toward the door.
     "There are a lot of things you and I could do together, Rockstar," I snickered. A mischievous smirk started to take shape on his face, but I only scoffed. "But right now we're going to finalize that setlist."
     Jon tossed his head back and laughed. I smiled at the sound and he shook his head, still snickering as he pulled the door open. "Shoulda seen that comin'," he chuckled.
     Later that night, as the band was onstage playing Never Say Goodbye, I remembered that Matt was expecting me to call. He'd told me to call when Jon broke my heart. But he hadn't. So there was no reason to call Matt.
     It was alright. It didn't matter. Jon loved me. Everything was going to be alright. History was changing and everything was going to be alright.