I Object [gxg]

14. The Non-Reception

"You're back," Amy says the second I walk into the bar.

"Back?" I repeat, stopping in my tracks. She recognizes me? In her time, we haven't seen each other in five years, and there's no way she would remember the drunk girl at the bar on St. Patrick's Day because there are at least five of those every year.

Unless...is she looping with me? What if she remembers everything, like I do?

"You come in here a lot," she supplies for my benefit.

I almost laugh with relief. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Amy wrinkles her nose. "It's not really something to be proud of."

I sigh and plop down on a stool. "I'm working a few things out."

"Right. You're a married woman."

I straighten up. "How do you know that?"

She gives me a weird look. "Well, even if you didn't come in here every day talking about it, your rings sort of give it away."

I glance down at my left hand. She does have a point. Then her words finally penetrate my skull.

"Did you say every day?" I ask, even though I find the memories buried in my mind—just like that Star Trek class. I shake my head hard. "Don't answer that. It will just depress me."

She squints at me. "Are you okay?"

I drop my head into one hand, massaging it. "No," I admit. "No, I'm not. I'm stuck in this town. I have a kid. I have a husband. None of which I ever wanted."

She looks like she's heard it all before, but she doesn't interrupt.

"And you know how some people say they never wanted this and they never wanted that, but then it happened, and it's the best thing that ever happened to them?" I continue, gaining steam. "It's not like that. Not always, at least. I don't want any of this, I never did, I just...." I collapse completely onto the bar, letting my forehead rest against the cool, glossy wood. "I just wanted to say what I felt."

I push myself back up. Amy is leaning on the bar across from me, watching in silence.

"Have you ever had to bottle something like that up inside?" I ask.

She doesn't answer right away, and for those few long seconds I'm caught in the scrutiny of her dark, almost black eyes. They don't hold judgment, but something in them still makes me look away.

"Yeah," she finally answers. Then she throws a rag down on the bar and starts making circles with it, her abrupt return to action startling me. "But sometimes people have to figure things out for themselves, you know?"

I watch her for almost a full minute. "So you're saying I should lay down breadcrumbs?"

"I said sometimes," she corrects. "Other times, the universe just knows what's supposed to happen. And you can't really fight an entire universe."

"So I'm just supposed to let my soulmate marry someone else?" I can't even muster up the energy for anger at the idea. Maybe it's time to give up and be forever alone—or in my case, forever jumping from one person to the next without commitment.

A sharp laugh surprises me. "Soulmates?" Amy repeats. "You believe in that?"

"What, don't you?" I ask, a self-conscious smile flickering across my lips.

"It always kind of struck me as a fear tactic." She stops cleaning long enough to regard me with pity. "If you don't go for it, if you don't stick with it, you'll never get this chance again? There are almost eight billion people out there, you really think there's no one else that can give you a happy, fulfilling life?"

I shrug, opening my mouth, but now it's her turn for a tirade.

"I mean, maybe there is one of them that could make you happier than all the others. But that doesn't mean you can't still have a really freaking great life with all the other ones. No two people are the same, no two people are going to make you feel exactly the same way. So they're different, it doesn't make one of them better."

I blink, lost for words. In a way, her view of the world makes sense—but it's almost coldly logical. I'm not sure I can just throw all the romance out the window like that.

"Sorry," she says suddenly. "I'm the bartender, not you. I'm supposed to listen."

I shrug. "Everybody needs someone to listen every now and then."

She sighs. "I didn't mean to be negative, I just meant...don't write off all your other chances at happiness just because you didn't get the one you want."

I lift the corner of my lips half an inch. "Wise words."

"I think I heard them at some Star Trek seminar," she says, trying to lighten the mood.

I decide to play along. I've had enough seriousness for the night, and guilt is splashing at my shores again as I realize the wedding should be ending soon.

"I think I took the same class," I comment. "It was good. Do you remember that episode where Captain Picard lived a whole life, with a family, kids and grandkids and a wife, only to wake up and find out it was just a dream? But knowing didn't make it any less real to him." I nod to myself. "I've kind of been relating to that episode a lot lately. Or the one where they get stuck in a time loop."

"I'm a Trouble With Tribbles fan."

"Oh, that's a classic," I agree as she hands me a drink over the bar.

She smiles. I smile back.

"So you really hate this town that much?" she asks after a moment.

"It's not hate, it's just...." I chew on my lips, eyes roaming the wall behind the bar. "It's like a restlessness. I can't stay here. There's something better out there."

One of her eyes narrows in something akin to amusement. "What would you call it?"

I hesitate. "Freedom, I guess."

"It's funny," Amy observes. "You think your soulmate is here, but here is like a prison to you." She shrugs. "Maybe those two things are related."

She turns to help another customer, and I stare at her profile. For someone who thinks love is a miserable trap, she sure has an easy smile.

I lay my head down in my arms again and let out a long, slow breath. I don't even need to drink. I could drop dead right here.

But I accept the glass she gives me anyway, just for good measure.

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