The Mandela Effect

Ch. 18

Two days later, Mark and Jon were in the lobby of the hotel, waiting in line at the front desk to check out.

"Can't your girl help us skip the line or something?" Mark asks.

"She's not my girl," Jon sighs, "you're like a teenager."

"I'm just saying," Mark insists, "you had a few dinners and a few late nights. She can't bump us to the front of the line?"

"She's not working today," Jon answers, "we said our goodbyes last night."

"Awww, 'said your goodbyes'," Mark jokes, "that's almost cute. Almost."

Jon just shakes his head and moves forward with the line.

"So," Jon changes the subject, "I've been looking more into this 'Mandela Effect' thing."

"Great subject change," Mark chuckles, "didn't realize it was a sore spot."

"It's not," Jon says defensively, "just wanted to get your thoughts."

"Ok," Mark dismisses him, "what have you found?"

"There are a lot of interesting examples that people have found," Jon continues.

"Is that right," Mark responds doubtfully.

"Surprisingly," Jon ignores the sarcasm, "yea. Some things I am mis-remembering..."

"Or things that have been changed," Mark interrupts.

"Right," Jon continues, "or things that have changed."

They both continue to move forward as the line moves.

"I think I'm going to dive deeper into this when I get back," Jon finishes.

Mark sighs, "Listen Jon, it's just a stupid internet thing. It's a pajama brigade conspiracy theory: like 9/11 truthers or flat-earthers."

"Well, I mean, that Pentagon video is pretty convincing," Jon jokes.

Mark rolls his eyes.

"And have you seen the puffs of smoke from Building 7?" Jon continues.

"I'm saying," Mark argues, "that you shouldn't get too wound up about it. It's a Monet theory."

"A money theory?" Jon asks.

"Monet," Mark corrects, "like the painter. It makes a lot of sense from far away, but up close its just little dots. The theory falls apart under close scrutiny."

"Then what will it hurt?" Jon asks.

"I don't want to see you waste your time and energy," Mark argues, "I'm sorry I even brought it up."

"It's not really about Mandela," Jon tries to clarify.

"It doesn't matter," Mark insists.

Jon steps back, "There is a picture of Lucy and I on our wedding day. The love of my life, the one that was taken away, the one I lost, the one I never got to marry. There is a physical picture, a Polaroid, of a wedding that never happened.

"Do you know how often I think about how life would be different?" Jon continues, "Late nights, all alone in my apartment, staring at the ceiling and wondering what it might have been like if I hadn't let her drive home that night. If she'd stayed just a little longer; or left just a little earlier.

"More than that, think of the Butterfly Effect from that moment," Jon starts to get excited, "not just her being alive, not just us getting married, but a family, children, a whole life that never happened. But that picture, that picture is like a hint that maybe it could have. Or, maybe it did."

Mark settles under the barrage from Jon, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that it doesn't matter. I just mean, what's done is done. That's life right? A river flowing only in one direction."

Jon and Mark step up. They are next in line.

"Then," Jon questions, "how do you explain the picture."

"I can't," Mark finally relents, "but even if it meant something, it's twenty years old."

"Yea," Jon agrees, "but maybe it still means something."

"Next?!" a voice calls out from behind the front desk.

Jon and Mark look up to find the open register. Mark seems relieved that the conversation has been ended, for now. They step up to the counter.

Two hours later, the conversation hasn't been revived. Mark and Jon are stepping onto the aircraft for the long flight back to New York. Once settled in their seats, Jon starts pulling out his laptop.

"Grading papers?" Mark asks, "or tests?"

"No," Jon chuckles, "I got caught up on the flight out. That's what you should be doing."

"Should be and will be are very different," Mark answers, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes, "so what are you doing?"

"Research," Jon answers, turning to him.

Mark opens one eye and looks at Jon. He senses that Jon is just looking for a fight, but he's not interested. He closes his eye again and crosses his arms.

"Well," Mark says, "good luck with that."