Chapter 15: January 21, 2012

Rory Daniels and Megan Green were married on October 14, 2006. It was a small, private ceremony at the courthouse, and despite worries about her potentially getting unstuck, it all went by without any troubles at all. Tyrone was the best man; Cassandra was the maid of honor; and Xavier was honorary ring-bearer.

And thus began the Spaghetti Years.

Rory’d had some taste of it in the few months that Megan had been living with him—but that was nothing compared to the next few years. It never seemed to relent—Xavier, Megan, and work all blended together, and he sometimes felt like he was unstuck in time with how the days and months all seemed to similar, and yet so different.

They eased into that life together, making their household work. They argued, cuddled, made love, raised a child, kept spoilers from each other. They expanded and improved the house, thanks to a bank account of money that Megan never fully explained. It was comfortable.

And in time, Megan declared she was pregnant again, this time with Heather. Life remained busy, and before they knew it, they had a happy and healthy baby girl—with a thankfully uneventful birth in October 2009—and just like that, they were a family with two children.

A handful, but between the two of them—and Cassandra and her husband, and Tyrone and his wife all pitching in—they made it work. Busy, but livable and happy.

January 21, 2012 was the last straw.

It started as a relatively normal day for Rory. He roused from sleep first, the sounds of the kids echoing from the living room as they giggled and played. He gave his still-slumbering wife a kiss and crawled out of bed, having decided to make breakfast for the family like he usually did.

He was surprised when he walked into the kitchen that Megan was already in there, making breakfast. After a few blinks to clear the remainder of sleep from his eyes, he said, “Uh, January 2012.”

“Good morning! February 2012,” she said with a cheerful smile, spatula in hand as she scrambled some eggs. “And today is going to suck. Just so you know.”

He scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. “Mind if I ask why?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she replied. He realized that she was making a lot more food than just for the four of them.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” he said, not quite sure what to do with himself. “That’s usually my job on Saturday mornings.”

“I was just about to make dinner, too,” she said, tilting her head to indicate the giant wall calendar. “It’s February eighth, by the way, but don’t mark it so I still get everything out to try.”

He always struggled to remember dates like that, and mostly just muddled through. It usually worked.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her cook for a few minutes. “My past self is still in the bedroom, right?” she asked, looking over at him as Heather ran through his legs and attached herself to her mom.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Probably should go warn her. I’m on my period right now, so it might be a bit before I get myself to pop back.”

“Good call,” he agreed, pushing off and walking back to their room to do just that. She was a little more roused now, sitting on the edge of the bed, a happy smile on her face. “Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she replied, smiling at him. “Last night was nice.”

He blinked; he didn’t remember last night. From his perspective, they’d had a normal Friday evening—pizza and a movie—and then crashed. “Uh...”

“Right, I was unstuck for a while overnight. Will be nice. We got a babysitter, and it was ... will be nice.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “But uh, you have a future self in the kitchen, so you might need to stay in here a bit.”

“I should be able to go pee, right?” she wondered.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That should be fine. Just ... don’t go into the living room or kitchen or—”

He was interrupted by the sound of a baby squalling. A newborn baby, it sounded like. From Xavier’s room.

Megan frowned. “That’s—”

“Let me check,” he said, hastily leaving the bedroom—closing the door behind him—and heading to Xavier’s room, once the nursery.

There was Megan, looking exhausted, sitting in the chair that was still there from her nursing days. A newborn was crooked in her arm, screaming its head off. She looked up at him, bleary-eyed.

“January 2012,” he said.

“June 2006,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

“So, Xavier?”

She nodded, pulling her pajama top up to try to feed him. “I am so exhausted.”

“I remember those days,” he said, holding up a finger. “But ... uh ... there’s already two of you here—future ones—so you should probably stay here for the time being?”

“Okay. I’m not going anywhere with this little milk vampire.” He was quieting a little now that she had a breast out and in his mouth.

“Good. Okay.” His mind racing a bit, he walked back into the hall, where real-time Megan was shuffling to the bathroom. She entered and closed the door, and he decided to duck into their bedroom to catch his breath for a moment.

And standing right there was another Megan—this time in red lingerie that he recognized. “January 2012,” he said laboriously. “And let me guess—Valentine’s Day 2011?”

“How’d you guess?” she asked innocently, then smirked, stepping forward to drape her arms on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to have left you behind but—”

He held up a hand. “It’s fine, I knew what I was getting into when I married you. It got handled.” Mostly by himself; she hadn’t shown back up for three days after that one. It was quite the disappointment when he had taken off of work and gotten a babysitter and they had spent a whole day together without the kids and were getting ready for a nice romantic evening—complete with lingerie—when she suddenly got unstuck. “But uh ... you’re the fourth now.” He counted it on his fingers: kitchen (next month), bathroom (now), Xavier’s room (six years ago), bedroom (last Valentine’s Day). “Yeah, four.”

“Fourth?” she asked.

“Of you. It’s a spaghetti day.”

That brought an instant frown to her lips. “Okay, I’ll wait here, but ... I want you so much, Rory.”

“Yes, but first I need to tell your present self—uh, future self to you—that she can’t walk back in here.”

This Megan nodded and stepped back, looking sad as she sat on the side of the bed. “Alright.”

Feeling overwhelmed already, he hurried back to the bathroom and called out, “You need to stay in there for a bit. We have a spaghetti day on our hands.”

“Okay,” she called back after a moment.

He hurried to the kitchen, where future Megan was plating even more eggs. “So, you were right,” he said. “This is going to be a bad day.”

“I’m always right, don’t you know?” she said with a smirk, looking at him. Then there was a knock at the door—the knock that he had come to recognize was Megan’s—and he stared at the Megan in front of him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Don’t ask how it can get worse,” she said with a smile. “But I’ll duck into the corner just in case.”

He nodded, then went to open the front door. It was Megan, of course—this time in a red long-sleeved shirt under her winter coat and black maxi skirt and no wedding ring. She looked significantly younger than usual. “Uh, hi,” he said. “January, 2012.”

“Hey,” she said, an obviously fake smile on her face. “I guess that’s a thing I need to get used to doing, isn’t it? December, 2004. Can I come in?”

“Yes, but you need to come sit in the living room and not go in the kitchen.”

She walked in, taking her coat off. “Why not?” He noticed that she glanced at the date calendar on the wall.

He brought a hand up to his forehead. “Today’s turning into an extremely hectic day. Just ... please sit?”

“Mommy!” Xavier crowed, running up to hug her leg.

She awkwardly looked down at him and patted him on the head, and then made her way to the couch—thoroughly encumbered—and sat down on it. “Uh ... Xavier, right?”

“You know my name, mommy!” he said with a laugh. “Do you want to play Zelda with me?”

Heather ran into the room. “Zelda! Zelda!” she yelled exuberantly. At a little over two, she was more than excited to watch.

“Sure,” Megan said, looking a little panicked at Rory, before trying to figure out what controller to even use. “I’m not sure what I need, though...”

Rory wandered back into the kitchen. “So, it can’t get worse, right?”

The future Megan in the kitchen—who was eating eggs, standing in the corner—rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Be careful what you wish for.”

He glanced over and noticed the large number of plates with food on them. “Let me guess, enough for everyone?”

Megan nodded, and he grabbed two plates and walked back into the living room. “Oh, breakfast time?” she said as Xavier showed her how to turn on the TV.

“Give me a moment,” he said, walking back to the hall. He called into the bathroom, “Uh, hold on a bit. It just got more complicated,” then started with their bedroom.

Lingerie-clad Megan was in there, looking almost bored on the side of the bed. He reached a plate towards her. “Hungry?”

She crooked an eyebrow at him as she took the plate. “Not really, after the dessert we had, but I guess I’ll take it, at least. Thanks.”

“Alright, on to the next,” he muttered, turning—closing the door behind him—and going into the nursery, where that Megan was still dealing with a newborn. “Not sure where you can put it, but—”

“Thanks,” she said, pointing at Xavier’s bed; he set it down. “I’ll manage. Today’s that day, isn’t it? The day of five? Or was it six? I don’t remember. The day of a lot of us.”

He did another mental check. “Currently there are five of you in this house.”

“Hm,” she said, nodding, then began to fuss with Xavier again. Rory closed the door and went back to the kitchen—through the living room, where Heather had moved on to blocks while Xavier kept telling Megan about the latest Zelda game (totally spoiling her on a game that wouldn’t come out for years for her) as he tried getting the TV to work—and grabbed two more plates, bringing them into the living room.

He got halfway across when there was another knock at the door. Megan’s knock. “Fuck,” he muttered, handing both of the plates to a very confused Megan on the couch. “Okay, you, take these and Xavier back to Heather’s room and—”

“Which one’s Heather’s room?” she wondered. “I haven’t exactly been here often and—”

“It’s the one that’s all piiiiiiink!” Xavier cried. “I wanna go to my room!”

“You can’t go to your room, or the space-time continuum would blow up!” Rory said, exasperated. “You’re already in there!”

“What do you mean I’m already in there? I’m right here!” he proudly pointed to himself, inordinately proud of his being six years old or something.

Rory sighed. “It’s complicated. Just ... show your mom to Heather’s room, okay?”

“But she should already know where Heather’s room is! Why can’t Heather take her?”

“Because I said so!” Rory yelled, really starting to lose his patience. Another knock at the door. Megan on the couch smiled at him and pushed up. “Xavier, sweetie, can you help me find the treasure in Heather’s room? I put a new Zelda thing in there, and I can’t remember where I put it!”

“Zelda treasure?” He lit up, starting to dash back into the house. “Zelda!” Megan gave him an apologetic smile then began following him as best she could.

“Zelda! Zelda!” Heather cried, starting to follow them.

Once they were around the corner, Rory prayed that Megan could keep them confined to Heather’s room, and then opened the door—to find another Megan of course, this time looking to be a little pregnant and with a toddler Xavier with her. “Hey,” she said, looking out of breath. “Uh, I’m April 2009.”

“January 2012,” he replied, getting very exasperated. “Come in and don’t go anywhere.”

“Why not?” she wondered, then looked at the calendar. “Oh. Oh, it’s that day. I’m sorry, but I think I need to not be here because—”

“Daaaaaaaddyyyy!” Heather’s voice cried as she walked back into the living room. “Xavier’s in my room with mommy!” She began to cry. “I want to be with mommy!”

“I’m right here, sweetie,” Megan—the one who was slightly pregnant with the child she was talking to—said. “Why don’t I go sit down and you can play blocks with your brother?”

“Blocks!” Xavier—the toddler one—cried as he toddled into the living room to dump out a basket of them. Heather immediately perked up and went to play with her brother, appearing to be about the same age.

Megan closed the door behind her and gave him an apologetic smile. “This is not a good day for you, is it?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to—”

“You probably should save your speech; you’ll have more stamina with your tongue later,” she said with a smirk.

He paused a moment. “Is it even a problem, all of you maybe hearing each other?”

She shook her head. “Shouldn’t be. We mostly just need to pop back in order from earliest to latest, I think.”

“Well, the earliest is—no, the second-earliest is breastfeeding, the earliest is playing with Xavier—uh, current-age Xavier—and this is all just very confusing.”

She walked over and sat on the couch. “Believe me, I know.” She nodded down at the two kids now playing happily with each other on the couch. “I’ll watch them; why don’t you go deal with my other selves, until you can get to me?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to take a breath. “First, I need a drink.” He walked into the kitchen, and looked over at that Megan, who had an apologetic look on her face. “You know...” he began.

She shrugged, and mouthed, “Just relax.” Then he realized she was holding out a glass of what appeared to be orange juice—but as he took it, realized it smelled alcoholic. She’d made a screwdriver for him.

He also realized that he’d seen it on the counter earlier—a few minutes earlier, before he was inundated with his wife—and had assumed it was her drink. How thoughtful of her.

He downed it in one drink. “Okay, start with the earliest. Right.”

She nodded, then shrugged.

With a sigh, he went back to Heather’s room—dropping off another plate of eggs in the living room—where college-aged Megan was playing patty-cake with him on the floor. “Okay,” he said. “Xavier, come with me a moment.”

“But daddy! I’m playing with mommy!” he protested.

“Why don’t you go with your daddy, sweetie,” Megan cooed. “We can play more later!”

Grumpy, Xavier got up and took Rory’s outstretched hand—and he immediately led his son to his bedroom, trying to make sure toddler Xavier didn’t see them. Once in there, lingerie-clad Megan opened her eyes wide. “Uh ... oh, that’s where you took him. I ... didn’t expect that. Uh...”

“Mommy, why are you wearing underwear?” he asked. “And why is it so ... frilly?”

She put her hand to her forehead. “I’ll explain when you’re older. Right now, why don’t you stay here with me?” She looked up to glare at Rory. “I wanted a date without the kids!”

“I’m trying the best I can to keep the space-time continuum from going kablooie!” he protested. “Just ... I will make it up to you. I promise.”