Any World (That I'm Welcome In) - Ch. 18

©2025 SammyC

“That was a really selfless thing you did there for Regina,“ Tom said softly, as he placed his jacket over my shoulders. We were sitting on a park bench across the street from The Orange Lantern, where George and Regina were being toasted non-alcoholically post Homecoming Dance as King and Queen. I was starting to shiver in the early November chill.

“Thanks, Tom. But aren’t you cold too?”

“I like it when it’s brisk,” he declared but there was a barely audible brrr at the end of his defiant statement. I took his hands in mine and warmed them by rubbing.

“That wasn’t selfless at all. It was totally self-centered. After all, I keep telling you, Regina is me. I am Regina—”

“So, where did you and Noah go for half an hour? Regina said she had no idea.”

“I think I convinced him that I’m not the Gigi he thinks I am. Something you still won’t accept.”

“I told you he seemed like the kind of guy who’d believe in all that sci-fi mumbo-jumbo. He’s not as smart as he likes to pretend.” Tom laughed.

“Maybe it’ll shock him into calling the whole engagement thing off. I never did accept the new promise ring he wanted to give me tonight—”

“It’s a losing game, Gigi. There’ll be a day when all of your memories come back to you and you’ll be living like a princess in Paris, dressed in the latest couture. I’ll be the one lost in the fog of events of the past six months.”

I released his hands and placed mine on his cheeks. Our lips met and I could feel his warm breath as he opened his mouth to my impetuous tongue. Seconds later, we separated, and I opened my eyes to see his were still shut, a tender look on his handsome face.

“I can’t remember things that I never experienced, Tom. I wish you would believe me. I wish everyone would.”

“It is what it is, Gigi. No matter what kind of fantasy you want others to believe. Look, Vice Principal Garrett told me tonight that the school’s not paying for the band or cheerleaders to travel to the team’s last game next Friday. We’re probably going to go all the way to the finals, and we’ll need what’s left in the budget to have us travel to the playoff sites. What it means is—”

“I know. My brief career as a majorette is coming to an imminent conclusion. If we don’t win the semis, I won’t even make it to Thanksgiving. Well,” I chirped with a laugh, “it was really nice while it lasted.”

“Yeah, just like our relationship. By Christmas, you’ll be learning how to ski in the Alps with lover boy. Maybe you’ll remember to send me one of those 3-D postcards. I’ll tape it to the inside of my guitar case and dream about you and what could have been.”

We kissed again and I fought tears. Into his shoulder, I promised him that would never happen. I would find a way to extricate myself from this egregious situation.

“Look, it’s Regina, George and Billy,” Tom whispered as he saw the three of them waving from across the street. “It must be past 11 now. You better go. I don’t think your dad would like seeing me deliver you home instead of George.”

I kissed Tom one final time, deep and lingering, before I gathered myself together to walk toward George’s car, waving to them as I started to hurry.

Mom and Nick were surprised when Regina walked into the house wearing her Homecoming Queen crown. I guess everyone assumed I’d be named Homecoming Queen. After Mom and Nick took turns hugging Regina and tearfully congratulating her (well, Nick didn’t actually cry), Nick turned to me with a puzzled look on his face.

“How? Even your mom thought it would either be you or Winnie Schlitter.”

“Nick, Regina is a very, very popular girl in school. She’s our best cheerleader and I think George has definitely dropped Winnie for Regina now. Everyone said they looked like a perfect pair up on stage.”

“Well, I’ll be. Thank you, Gigi.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For teaching Regina how to be a genuine girl…like you.”

“She’s the one who taught me—”

“Huh?”

“Oh, Gigi, I hope you aren’t too disappointed,” Mom said, trying to exude sympathy. “This is the happiest I’ve seen Regina in…in forever!”

“It’s not your birthday, Regina. Why did they give you a crown at Burger King? And can I try it on later?” It was Artie, stifling yawns from the top of the stairs.

Mom rushed halfway up the steps. “Artie, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“You guys woke me up. I figured it must be something exciting ‘cause you were so loud.”

“Your sister was named Homecoming Queen tonight at the dance. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Oh yeah, it is. But I thought you brought something back from Burger King when I saw the crown. I’m hungry, Mom.”

I passed Mom on the stairs as I took Artie’s hand and led him to the kitchen. “I’ll give you some milk and a chocolate chip cookie, okay squirt?”

“Okay as long as I can wear her crown while I eat.”

It took the better part of a half hour before we left the house on Monday morning for me to convince Regina that it would be silly to wear her crown to school.

“You don’t have to remind people that you’re the most popular girl in school. I think that widescreen smile we haven’t been able to wipe off your face since Saturday night would attest to that, crown or no crown.”

“To paraphrase Sally Field: ‘They like me. They really like me!’” She stopped at the corner of the block across from the school’s athletic field, turning to me. “You didn’t have to do what you did, Gigi. I was hoping you’d beat out Winnie for Homecoming Queen. I had no idea so many people would vote for me. I’d have gladly conceded my votes to you—”

“This is your world, Regina. I’m an intruder. I don’t deserve it.”

“It’s your home now too. I’ll miss you when you’re studying in France. We can skype each other. Right?”

“I’m not planning to go to France, Regina. When I turn 18 next Spring, I can tell the Artauds to fuck off. I might not even go to college. I mean, I’ll be inheriting all that money—”

“And go off with Tom? Mom will be really mad at you. She gets her daughter back after 17 years and she’s so proud of how smart you are and how set up for a great life you already are. The Sorbonne, living in Paris, marrying a millionaire’s son. I think he’s kind of cute…”

“I don’t need the money. I’ll give it all to you, Artie, and Mom. Tom and I will do alright. We’ll have each other.”

“Man, you really are head over heels in love with Tom, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you feel the same way about George?”

“Say, did I tell you that George asked me out on a date for Saturday after our last game? What’s a good movie to see. You’re up on all that culture stuff—”

“Well, it’s about time George saw the light that was burning his retinas all this time. Good for you, Regina. Good for both of you. As for what movie to see? I’m not Gigi, the girl genius, may I remind you? I’m you, remember?”

“Come on, the light’s changed three times already. I don’t get you, Gigi. You’ve lucked into a better world than the one you came from. Why would you want to be poor old Reggie again?”

“Is it better? I wonder.”

You would be right to assume that Regina’s week started out well. As she cruised the hallways of Rossington High, she was greeted by waves and smiles from both girls and boys. Even Principal Stover went out of her way to bid her an elaborate good morning as she passed by the Administrative offices. I received a decent amount of attention myself, but I was starting to feel like Regina’s lady-in-waiting, walking a respectful step or two behind her. During lunch period, George camped himself at our table, sitting between Regina and me. It was at lunch that we learned something that made Regina’s week even better.

Apparently, Winnie had freaked out over the events of Saturday night and remained catatonic for almost 48 hours, sitting on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, not even getting up to pee, and refusing to eat a bite of food. Her parents made the executive decision to metaphorically “get thee to a nunnery” as they arranged to have her finish out her senior year in an all-girls Catholic School in Bergenfield.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” I noted, taking a big, unladylike bite of my chicken chimichanga.

“I feel sorry for her,” Regina countered before sticking her fork into her green salad.

“Not me,” George declared. “I finally saw her for what she really is. And it isn’t pretty. So, Gigi, what do you recommend we go see this weekend, Regina and me? People say that new Galaxy Patrol movie with Trent Foster is really good.”

While Regina was getting her hair done on Saturday morning, determined to look her best for her date with George that night, I lied to Mom and Nick and told them I was going to spend the day with Uncle Richie. It wasn’t really an untruth. I was going to see Uncle Richie…my Uncle Richie. The Uncle Richie from my home universe, who had unfortunately followed me through the vortex in Parsons Lake. But, unlike me, he couldn’t stay in this universe. His place was already taken by Uncle Richie 2.0. Like Grant Moorefield, he would need to find another situation, so to speak, before the Great Spirit played dice with his life once again.

I had asked Tom to come along with us as Richie surveyed the lake for the location of the vortex that would transport him, hopefully, back home. But he begged off, saying he was rehearsing all day Saturday and Sunday and playing gigs both nights. I whined for a bit but to no avail. Tom’s pretty serious about his musical career. More serious than he is about me?

Uncle Richie 2.0 was in New York City, visiting friends. More accurately, I assume, a friend. A female friend. So, magnetometer and laptop in our hands, Richie and I rented a rowboat (and a life jacket for me) and proceeded to survey the northern half of the lake. Richie planned to do the southern half next time.

“How is it that you never learned to swim, Reggie…er…Gigi?” Richie asked me.

I was gripping the sides of the boat tightly, my teeth on edge. “I don’t know why but I’ve always been scared of bodies of water. Even swimming pools make me apprehensive.”

“It’s doubly strange then why you felt compelled to go into the lake that night. That’s why I ran after you. I knew you couldn’t swim. Well, we’re here now. Maybe we can find a vortex that’ll get us back home.”

“Shouldn’t it be right where we emerged in the first place?”

“Well, Reggie, do you remember the exact location where you emerged?”

I shook my head and realized I had no idea where the vortex was.

“So, you see why I have to map out the magnetic landscape of the lake. There may even be more than one vortex here. More than likely really.”

“Do you mean you’re not sure where any of these vortices would take you?”

“No. But, it doesn’t really matter. I can’t stay here. You, on the other hand, seem to have won the cosmic lottery. You can remain here and take over Gigi Prime’s life. And what a life it seems to be.” He whistled and winked at me.

“It’s not as great a deal as you might think, Uncle Richie. So, when are you planning on leaving?”

“I have to admit I find being in a parallel universe fascinating. I wish I could take a protracted stopover here and observe all the differences, big and small, between home and this…other home. I think I’ll leave around Thanksgiving. That’s what? Three weeks from now.”

“These life vests are really uncomfortable. The last time I wore one was when you and Nick took me fishing right off Boggs’ Landing. I can see it over your left shoulder. Way over there.”

“You hated it. Said you had no interest in fishing. I think your exact words were: ‘fishing is what boys do.’ You said it with utter disgust. Nick had no clue what was going on with you, but I guess I always knew…even when you were five or six years old.”

“What’s your plan for this upcoming week? Places to visit, people to see?”

“I guess it would only be right since I’m here to visit your grandparents’ grave—”

“What? Gramps and Gran aren’t dead. They’re in Florida. Been down there since Gramps retired three years ago.”

“Reggie, somehow this universe is affecting your memory. Maybe you’re confusing Gigi’s past with your own. But that can’t be. The LeClercs’ parents are in France. Anyway, you should take some time off from school and come with me. Pay your respects. You were always your grandmother’s favorite…”

I gripped the sides of the boat even tighter as it began to creep into my mind that this wasn’t MY Uncle Richie either. He was from yet another parallel universe. It was like looking into a series of receding mirrors. I had to stifle a scream as the real face of my situation revealed itself.

After the day out with Uncle Richie, I came home and looked around me at the strangers who were nominally my family in this cock-eyed world. Sitting at the dinner table, their chit chat sounded muted and shapeless, as if they were speaking underwater. Dishes passed before and by me as I shook my head repeatedly. I don’t think I uttered more than three words: yes, no, and uh-huh. Mom turned to me with a concerned look. Even Artie asked me what was wrong.

“She’s probably still upset that Regina got picked Homecoming Queen instead of her,” Nick explained, taking a big gulp from his beer mug and belching. “Excuse me.”

Prompted to testify on my own behalf, I said in a calm monotone, “I’m not upset at all. Regina’s a great girl. Everyone in school sees that now. Even George. That’s why they’re out on a date tonight.”

“Will you miss us when you move to France next year, Gigi?” asked Artie.

“Yes, of course. You’re…my family.” They looked at me funny because I said that last part in an interrogative tone as if I were unsure. “May I be excused? I’ve got some reading for school I’m behind on…”

“Of course, Gigi.” Mom felt my forehead with the back of her hand. “No fever. Are you coming down with something, honey? You seem low on energy.”

As I started to climb the stairs, Mom stopped me, placing her hand on my arm. “Gigi, you can talk to me, you know. Not just mother to daughter but woman to woman. Is there something going on with Tom Verlaine you don’t want us to know about?”

“I’m not sneaking around behind your backs with Tom, if that’s what you suspect!” I sounded angrier than I intended. Mom recoiled at my outburst. “I’m having my period! Okay? Now just leave me be. It’s got nothing to do with you or Nick or anybody. Okay?” I ran up the stairs.

All weekend I texted Tom, over and over again. I think he answered me maybe twice. Both times he was curt in his replies. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but he seemed to be studiously avoiding me. Sure, he was busy with rehearsing and gigging but… My emotional state started to crater and that Monday in school I walked around in a daze. My teachers repeatedly called out to me to pay attention in class. My mind was processing thoughts in a feedback loop of doubt and anxiety. Between classes I searched the hallways for Tom. When I finally spotted him during lunch period, he quickly picked up his tray and tossed its contents into a bin and practically ran out of the cafeteria. He was missing from the Human Relationships class in our last period. I was convinced he wanted nothing to do with me. Regina said I was bonkers. Monday might have been a bad day for him, that’s all. She told me things would be back to normal on Tuesday.

But, as that old blues standard goes, “Tuesday’s just as bad.” This time, Tom did show up for Human Relationships but sprinted out of the room the instant class ended. He was out the front door of the school by the time I reached the hallway. Crestfallen, I was a zombie as Regina and I walked Artie home from elementary school. I shivered at the thought that the next line of that old blues song was “Wednesday’s worse.”

We had a quick dinner as Nick and Regina left for the first night of their father-son bowling league. Nick grumbled about the fact that it was now, for him, a father-daughter bowling league. When Mom reminded him that the league was now a parent-child league and had been for three years, Nick muttered something about “wokeness.”

I had just finished loading the dishwasher when the front doorbell rang. I told Mom I was going to start on my homework while the dishwasher cycled away and had one foot on the stairs when I turned around to see who Mom had greeted at the door.

“Oh, Gigi, come here. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Artaud. How nice of you to drop by.”

“Charles and Anaïs, Sara. Please. We’ll all be family soon.” Charles winked at me.