The day after. Time: presumably, 6:00 a.m.


The captain throws the ball at me and shouts: “Pete, you bowl the next over!”


I catch it, not too clean, and some players on the field laugh.


“You sure, captain?” I can’t believe he’d trust me with six balls ripe for a smacking by the batter.


“Yeah, what’s the worst that can happen? We’ve already lost!”


I ignore the laughter and mark my run-up to the bowling crease. With a deep breath, I start my first over with a quick hop and skip.


The small crowd on the periphery of the school grounds seems to explode in mockery. The batsman hits almost every ball out of the boundary. On the fifth ball, it's all over.


The laughter turns evil and grows in volume and pitch to become a cackle. The players on the field crowd me.


“You! You made us lose!” Someone scolds. “Useless as a broken bat!” Condemns another. “Can you never, ever do anything right?” Yet another accusation. “Get out of the playground and never come back, you hear?” Several voices scream in unison.


Just then the school bell rings and I couldn’t be happier. I run away, but my legs give way, and I fall face first. I try to turn over even as the bell rings louder and louder. I awake only when I can no longer bear the ringing and try to cover my ears. The alarm keeps going until I fumble to turn it off. I don’t try to guess the time today.


The nightmare never ceases. I have given up Cricket for a long time, but the humiliation of being a failure in a critical match of the season haunts me ever so often. It was that fatal day when I decided to quit I quit, not least because one of the faces in the mocking crowd was Jennie, whom I liked. She never spoke to me after that game.


Since then, staying cautious has been my A game. I’d rather not venture into the unknown than ruin it with my incompetence. I am happy being a spectator and guessing each team's chances. If I never participate, I can never lose. So, why tempt fate?



The day after. Time: 7:30 a.m.


I am on the bus to work. My subconscious bets on things around me: the number of men vs. women who get on at the next stop, the time we are likely to reach our destination, and so on. However, I stare ahead as if in a trance.


What happened to me yesterday?


I unlock my phone again and again, hoping the X will appear. There’s a notification of a news item on wormholes, but my only thought is to dive through one of them, go back to the Cricket game in school, and do better. Sally had been right: I fail to take chances on real things. Guessing outcomes to amuse me is superficial, even banal.


All the ‘No Stopping’ signs seem like a giant X mocking my failures. My guessing game could well be indecision—a reluctance to commit. I wish I hadn’t followed the X at all. I would’ve had a better chance at the XO game, and the ancient demons would still be asleep.


The bus lurches with a squeal of hydraulic brakes, and I snap out of my reverie. On a whim, I type out a text to Becky: ‘Hey Becks, how about lunch today?’ Then, I run through the scenarios that may play out during lunch before tapping the send icon.


The three dots start bouncing almost instantly. ‘Yeah, sure. What time?’


‘Say around 12:30-ish?’


‘Done. I’ll meet you at your desk. Bye xoxo’


For the remainder of the journey, my mood lifts somewhat as I recommence the guessing game and have several wins.



The same day after. Time: 12:30 p.m.


At 12:30 p.m. sharp, I feel a tap on my shoulder.


“Let’s go!” Becky squeals.


Her enthusiasm is hard to refute. I lock my computer, and we make our way to the elevators. Becky starts talking almost as soon as I reach for the ‘Down’ button. She describes her day in meticulous detail and chronological accuracy. I try and but my mind is spinning in a different orbit. Feelings of regret and self-loathing still claw at me even as I use smiles, nods, and Uh-huhs to punctuate her monologue.


At the food court, I feel like I’m in a deja-vu. I order a burrito, several degrees milder than yesterday, and Becky goes for butter chicken and rice. What is different is the absence of awkward conversation starters.


“So,” Becky surprises me for the first time, “tell me more about yourself, Pete. We’ve worked together for a while, but I don’t know much.”


For a few moments, I stare at her blankly. Then, I follow up with a question: “What would you like to know?”


“Anything. How did you end up at this company?”


That’s another weird story, so I pick my words carefully. “When I finished my Masters in Sciences from the Uni-”


“Wow, Masters?”


“Er, yeah. I had an option to do scientific research-”


“How exciting! So, what happened there?”


I smile at her eagerness to talk.


“Well, research wasn’t the safest option, in my opinion. Also, the money can be slow to come.”


“But you like Science-y things, don’t you? After all, you got a Masters degree!”


Another lunch, another person full of insights for me.


“True, true. I opted for Data Analysis to have some predictability in my life. Good growth. No nasty surprises.” I smile weakly and dig into my food to escape further scrutiny. Becky appears thoughtful, and there’s a period of unusual silence. So I decide to break it by a change of topic: “Hey Becks, can I ask you something?”


“Um-hmm” she intones while she chews.


“How likely are you…” I don’t want to sound weird, “…to fall for someone when you’ve just met them?”


Becky’s eyes shine with interest: “Well, it depends. Some guys can be real creeps when they come on too strong and needy, y’know!”


“Yes, I do, perhaps. What about someone who vibes right, seems genuine, and not creepy?”


She puts her spoon down and stares at me.


“You mean someone like you?”


I laugh. “I meant in general, Becks-”


“Oh, yeah, sure.” She picks up her spoon and uses it to point out, “I’ve had a couple of dates that led to a relationship. I do miss at least one of them terribly.”


“Y’know,” I confess, “I am nervous, uncertain rather, with relationships. What if it doesn’t work out? Is it still worth it?”


“Sure is to me, Peter.” her sudden proclamation surprises me, “And anyway, how would you know if it will work unless you try, right?”


I nod emphatically, although it is hard for me to accept. As if on cue, I check my phone for new notifications. I know the chances of the X and the O popping up are too small to measure, yet I can't take my mind off them. Not to mention all the No Stopping signs that won’t let me forget. I see Becky across the table and wonder why no X, or O, appears anymore. Do they only work across Universes? Surely, that can’t be true.


“By the way, thanks for the company today,” Becky interrupts my thoughts. “I ate lunch alone yesterday.”


“No, thank you!” I reply as I look around the food court, expecting the fuzzy view I had yesterday.


Get a hold of yourself, mate!


“Hey Pete, is everything OK?”


“Yeah, why do you ask?”


“You seem distracted-”


“Nah, nothing really. Just that I had the weirdest time at lunch yesterday.”


“Oh! Anything you can share with me?”


I look at the empty food plate before me, pondering if I should tell her about the rendezvous in the intersection, and how implausible it may sound.


“Nothing spesh,” I say instead. "I almost choked on the chilli in the burrito. So, I ordered it way milder today!” I finish with a laugh.


I find it hard to make conversation. It’s as if my mind has gone all blurry, like the fuzziness around the edges of the… intersection. I can see that Becky has sensed this, and my sullen mood has infected her too.


“Hey, I'm so sorry … I need to rush!” she exclaims. “Is it okay if we head back?”


“Of course, of course!” I stand up, scooping up both our plates.


Our walk back to the office is punctuated with short, quick steps and long silences.