Rewound {PTX}

Brownies

"I'll pore over your scans Mitch, but I can't promise much. For now, my hypothesis is that to access elusive memories, your N.A. gradually shifts to match them better, and after long enough, it shifts to something your other body can access. I still can't tell you why you switch randomly when you aren't trying, though. Maybe it's triggered by déjà vu. Maybe there just isn't a reason for it."

"Have I changed since you met me?"

"Of course. Haven't I? I'd like to think I'm not totally set in my ways."

"Self-improvement is basically your mantra. You're great. I need to go." I could head home and talk to Scott, but suddenly I feel unprepared to face him. I could head to a club and forget about it. I'm supposed to be cutting back, though. "Kevin?"

"Yes, Mitch?"

"I, uh..." How do I put this? He told me to tell him I don't want to become an addict, but I can't just say that. I feel so awkward. I shouldn't be so uncomfortable. I can trust him. What am I supposed to say, though? I should just worry about it later.

Who am I kidding? If I don't do this now, it's not going to happen. I need to start improving, not getting worse. I don't want this Scott to be stuck with a version of me he would hate if I weren't so familiar, and I certainly don't want to drag him down with me. "I, um... I'm a mess. It was so gradual, but I'm starting to see the difference now. I went back just then, if you couldn't tell, and even Scott hates what I've become. You told me I could, um, ask you for help. It's probably too late to go back, but maybe I can... I don't know. I just want to drink less for now. I don't know how to fix the rest of me, but maybe that'll help. Can you just... I don't even know what."

"You have my full support, and I will do literally everything in my power to make you succeed. As for Scott, there is a zero percent chance that any version of him hates any version of you. No one who knows you even vaguely dislikes you."

"Thanks." He didn't hear what Scott said to me. He didn't hear what Scott said when I was out of the room. I'm glad he wants to help, though, and it's really nice of him to say that.
I drive home, but I can't go inside, or even get out of the car. I sit in the driveway for fifteen minutes and then back out again.

Kirstie sees me coming and opens her door even before I knock. "Hey, Mitcherdoodle! I'm making macaroni and cheese. Come on in and you can help." For a while, Kirstie and I just bake together. She teaches me the difference between 'tsp' and 'Tbsp," which somehow I had never quite figured out. It's not like it matters; she's pouring ingredients directly in without measuring them.

"Eggs? Flour? Are those your secret ingredients? I'm no cook, but I don't feel like we're making macaroni anymore."

"This is for the brownies. You look like you could use some."

"You're an angel."

"I'm actually quite devious. I have the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, but I'm making brownies because they take forever to bake, so I can keep you here longer. Am I right in saying we have a lot to talk about?"

"Yeah." I slide the pasta into the oven. "Where do I even begin? Has fame changed me? I was so adamant that it wouldn't, that I'd be different. I guess everyone is at first. What if I'm really messed up, though? Do you think I'd even notice?"

"Your fans all say you're kind and humble and down-to-earth. Who told you otherwise? You usually don't let people's criticism get to you."

"Someone more important. Of course the fans say I'm like that. One, they're fans, and two, I'm always mindful of what I say publicly. They don't see me unfiltered. What do you think? I think there's something wrong with my attitude." I'm not ambitious; I'm presumptuous. I'm not grateful; I'm spoiled rotten. I'm not confident; I'm rude. I'm not independent; I'm inconsiderate of others. "How do I fix something like that?"