The Last Time We Met

22

I staggered beneath the weight of those memories and hit the side of Mr. Mendez's desk. Blood dribbled over my top lip and instinctively I tried to lick it away and that coppery tang hit my tongue. Mr. Mendez still had a box of tissues on his desk, and I lifted my mask to stuff the tissues against my nose. The mask popped off my ear and I stared at it, my brain not comprehending how it wasn't soaked in blood.

I had always imagined the nosebleeds starting with the memories, but it seemed they began the moment I returned to myself. That made sense, in a way, that it was the sudden addition of all those new memories that caused the bleeding.

In my flashback, Chris had also suffered from nosebleeds. Time had skipped for him, and I couldn't quite figure that out. Then again, I'd also felt more like myself in this flashback, and less like Chris. I knew without a doubt that Amanda had indeed been the reincarnation of Brent – that one touch had told me exactly that. Somehow, I hadn't thought about what would happen to my soulmate after they died and I lived. I imagined living with the grief, never thinking that they would be reborn, and that I might meet them again, in a separation of years that would make a romantic meeting impossible.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" asked a male voice behind me.

I turned with the tissue still pressed to my nose. A janitor stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry, I got a nosebleed and I needed a tissue and I didn't want to get too near anybody," I said.

"Shit," he said, and backed away. I assumed he was running for the most potent cleaning supplies he could find, and I used the moment to check to see if my nose was still bleeding – it wasn't – and then I put my mask back on and ran for the photography room.

No one was in there, but I saw a cardboard box on one of the counters labelled NEGATIVES, and the little markers with last names on them. I found mine and tucked the sleeve of cut negatives into one of my notebooks, then hurried for the door.

Once outside, I gulped the fresh air through my mask, mindful of the CDC guidelines to not touch my mask until I had used hand sanitizer. I headed for my car.

"James!"

Eli waved at me from his car, which he had parked beside mine.

"What's up," I said, stopping a little more than six feet away.

"Dude, I want to hug you right now. That's what quarantine is doing to me. Making me a hugger." He lifted his arms then dropped them.

I opened my car door and threw my stuff on the passenger seat. The hand sanitizer was in the cupholder and I grabbed it, squirting a healthy daub into my palm. "It's turning me into a germophobe."

"You're not alone, buddy. Hey, I was talking to Jax and he wants to do a watch party this weekend."

"Cool," I said, and tried to wrap up this conversation. I could feel a trickle of blood worming its way out of my nose, and I didn't feel like explaining to Eli what had happened. My head was pounding and all I wanted was to go home and lie down in the dark, which was how I managed to forget to mention Aunt Lulu. I remembered after getting home, dodging Mom's questions, scrubbing my face clean, then wetting a facecloth with cold water and lying down with that over my forehead and eyes.

"Damn," I muttered. But it was half-hearted. I didn't know if Aunt Lulu could even help me. I could text Eli later, after my nap. Then I fell asleep.

***

When I woke up, it was dark outside my window. I groaned as I sat up, then flicked on my bedside lamp. Rubbing my face, I tried to check the time on my phone, but the screen stayed dark. I plugged it in before reaching into the drawer of my nightstand and pulling out my journal.