Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

by Gabrielle Zevin

This is what time travel is. It’s looking at a person, and seeing them in the present and the past, concurrently. And that mode of transport only worked with those one had known a significant time.

“In which case, the only proper thing for us to do right now is have coffee,” Sam said. “Or whatever you drink, if coffee’s too much of a cliché for you. Chai tea. Matcha. Snapple. Champagne. There’s a world with infinite beverage possibilities, right over our heads, you know? All we have to do is ride that escalator and it’s ours for the partaking.”

“Next time, we fail better.”

You were not a perfect friend, but you were his friend, and he needed a friend.”

“Always remember, mine Sadie: life is very long, unless it is not.”

And when Sam didn’t call home often enough, it was Marx who took the time to call the Lees, back in Los Angeles. “Halmeoni and Halabeoji,” he’d greet them in Korean. “Our boy is doing fine.”

I'm gonna cry, I want a friend like Marx :')

“I don’t think she wants me there.” Sam paused. “I’m not good at going places where I’m not wanted.” “That doesn’t matter,” Marx said. “It isn’t about you. Just show up every day to check in with her.” “What if she won’t talk to me?” “Let her know you’re there. And if you can manage it, bring her a cookie, a book, a movie to watch. Friendship,” Marx said, “is kind of like having a Tamagotchi.”

“Why do you keep coming?” she asked. “Because,” he said. Click on this word, he thought, and you will find links to everything it means. Because you are my oldest friend. Because once, when I was at my lowest, you saved me. Because I might have died without you or ended up in a children’s psychiatric hospital. Because I owe you. Because, selfishly, I see a future where we make fantastic games together, if you can manage to get out of bed. “Because,” he repeated.

I wanna cry againnn

Sadie laughed. It had been a long time since Sam had heard Sadie laugh genuinely. Many things had changed about her, but he was pleased to discover that her basic laugh was untouched, aside from an inevitable, slight change of key. She had, he thought, one of the world’s great laughs. The kind of laugh where a person didn’t feel that he was being laughed at. The kind of laugh that was an invitation: I cordially invite you to join in this matter that I find amusing.

I AM GONNA CRYYYY

“Promise me, that no matter what happens, no matter what dumb thing we supposedly perpetrate on each other, we won’t ever go six years without talking to each other. Promise me you’ll always forgive me, and I promise I’ll always forgive you.”

Young hearts uggghhh