The Guitar Player And Me

11 - Time Is Weird

I should have been sleepy, but I had way too much energy.

I felt like I had drunk a hundred cups of coffee.

My caffeine intake had been drastically reduced since I had known Brian, so it must have just been endorphins. Again.

"You are too cute," Brian said to me.

I groaned and rolled my eyes at him. "Nope. Not cute. Don't wanna be cute."

I jumped off the bed and quickly made my way to look in the bathroom mirror. "Still not cute. Maybe I really should get a new hair style. Or contacts."

I started playing with my hair, parting it on the other side, then gathering it all into a ponytail. I frowned into the mirror, shaking my hair out. Giggling, I started singing, not realizing I was doing it out loud.

"I whip my hair back and forth, I whip my hair back and forth."

I could see Brian in the mirror laughing at me.

"How many songs are there about hair anyway?" I asked.

"I don't think very many," he answered.

"Now you," I pointed my brush at him from the mirror, "you have beautiful hair. My hair has only three states: frizzy, crunchy, or dirty."

"Stop, your hair is lovely, Marissa."

I started singing again:

I'm sorry that I doubted you,
I was so unfair.
You were in a car crash,
And you lost your hair.
You said that you would be late
About an hour or two.
I said, "That's alright, I'm waiting here,
Just waiting to hear from you".

He laughed and we sang the chorus together.

Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue.
'Cause you know darling, I love only you.
You'll never know it hurt me so,
I hate to see you go.
Don't pass me by, don't make me cry.

"Wow," I said, walking back to the bed.

"Wow, what?" He asked.

"Don't think I've ever met anyone who actually knows that song."

"It's the Beatles. Of course I know it."

"What time is it?"

"It's only half ten."

"What does that even mean? Is it half past ten, or half before ten?"

He smiled. "It means half past. It's 10:30."

"Time is weird." I sat down.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why do we have time anyway? Who decided to have it? Time isn't even real. We live in a universe with dimensions, so we experience time, but really there is no past or future, only now. So why don't we experience it that way? Just now."

I shuffled myself back so I was sitting next to him.

I continued. "I mean, we know how to go forward in time. We just can't do it yet. But why can't we go back in time? Length, width, depth, are all fluid. Things can become bigger or smaller. So why does time only move in one direction?"

"It's a good question," he told me. "There are a lot of theories. You should do some reading."

"All I do is read." I answered.

I jumped off the bed and grabbed a pen.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm writing a note to future me. So if we feel bad in the morning, we know it's ok and only the endorphin thing."

"We?"

"Well, future me is not the same as present me. Unless, you know, that time thing. If I am thirsty and drink water, that creates an entirely new dimension from the me that drinks juice. Like, every time you make a decision, you create all the possibilities. We only know this part of the universe. There are infinite choices made every day, so there must be infinite universes."

He looked at me.

"Yes, I think way too much," I told him.

I thought and wrote down some scribbles, then read it to Brian.

Dear future me,

Every thing is ok. If you feel bad in the morning, it is just endorphins, and don't get pissy again because you don't feel good. Eat something chocolate.

Love,

Present me. (Which will be past me when you read this.)

PS. Brian likes Beatles songs. Even the obscure ones.

PPS. Brian listened to me (you?) talk about time and didn't think it was stupid nonsense rambling. He is really smart and into that weird science stuff.

Love, (again)

Me, from the past.

He smiled at me as I taped the note to the bathroom mirror.

Author note:
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