Chương 4: As Easy as Walking a Tightrope

Despite Olivia's resolve, the practicality of actually replicating her previous life was… questionable, at best. As she'd already determined, trying to follow exactly in the precise footsteps of her past self would be an exercise in futility. There were too many small details to get wrong, and throwing herself into an existential crisis over the consequences of every single little word and action would drive her mad in no time flat.

Heck, she was certain she'd already diverged from the original timeline in at least a dozen different ways that morning alone. But if that level of deviation was enough to completely derail her future, then she was screwed no matter what happened. If bringing her family back required nothing less than perfection, then it would remain an impossible goal. As much as it pained her to admit it.

Of course, there was absolutely no way of knowing whether or not that was actually the case, and acting on that belief wouldn't help anyone. Meaning she had to assume there was some kind of margin for error, some threshold at which differences between this life and her last didn't result in appreciable differences down the line. Was it a good assumption? Maybe not. But it was all she had. Better than the alternative, she reminded herself, veering away from the self-defeating line of thought.

There was no sense in giving up without even trying. With that in mind, it made more sense to focus on the major events of her life first. Ensuring that she got those key moments and decisions right should go a long way toward keeping things predictable. Compared to that, little concerns like her wording and the amount of time she took to get ready in the morning hardly seemed to matter. It would be the difference between ripples from a pebble tossed into a placid lake and full-on boulders. In theory, at least.

The problem was defining what qualified as "major." Some things were obvious—she needed to get accepted to her old college to meet her husband, which meant she needed the same stellar grades as last time. Both of those were non-negotiable. But did she need to take the same exact classes? What about the same classes with different teachers? Would she suffer consequences for not scoring the exact same on her tests? Where exactly did the line between "important" and "fungible" lie?

When the time comes, do I need to get pregnant with the kids during the same windows as before? Shoot, can I even manage that? Shaking her head, she set the question aside for the moment. That particular matter was way too far in the future to worry about right now. Instead, she looked down at her list and began to consider which of the items she could honestly afford to consider changing. Her pencil quickly struck through the first few entries. Altering world events was obviously off the table.

Even if she were capable of tackling something on that scale—the very prospect was more than a bit overwhelming—changes like that were certain to have the most far-reaching and unpredictable consequences. Perhaps it was selfish to think that way. After all, she was essentially putting the lives of her children above thousands or potentially millions of others, and for what? A faint chance at seeing them again? Even that wasn't a guarantee.

Maybe there were lives she could save by warning about great disasters or trying to introduce revolutionary tech before its time. But honestly, who can even be sure that would work? Maybe I'm completely wrong and things are pretty much going to proceed the same as they did last time, regardless of what I do. Even if that's not the case, then who's to say anyone would even listen to me? I mean, I've read enough stories to know it's not that simple. I might even make things worse.

It was tempting to rationalize the decision even further, to twist herself into loops and convince herself that it was a moral choice. But who was she fooling? Either way, her mind was set. She wanted her family back, and that was that. It helped that she didn't truly know enough about future medical advancements or revolutionary bits of technology to implement them in the past. A few minor things, sure, but the big stuff like how to develop revolutionary new drugs and the code behind AI? Not a chance.

Not that I'd want to bring AI back with me, anyway. That was already a whole Pandora's box in my time. No way I'm going to be responsible for opening it here. With that decided, Olivia pored over her notes once more, scribbling down and crossing out ideas in turn. It took a little bit of effort to get going, and she occasionally had to catch herself from pursuing a particularly self-defeating train of thought, courtesy of the sugary pancakes that continued to linger in her system.

As time passed, however, her mind cleared. Soon she had a small stack of papers filled with various factors to change and keep the same during this go-around. Another knock tore her attention away from the task. Looking up with surprise, Olivia realized that she'd been working for longer than expected. The interior of her room had brightened considerably as the sun became visible through the window.

"Come in," she called, shifting the stack of papers beneath a notebook. The door creaked open to reveal her dad once again.

"Hey, sweetie. I'm about to head out. Last call of you need anything from the store." Olivia hesitated. Did she? That was a hard question to answer. Her approach to food in this life was one of those things she hadn't quite figured out how to deal with yet. Then again…

"Actually… is it ok if I come with you?" She asked. It would give her time to think through her approach, not to mention a bit more control over what they had around the house. And, well, spending more time with her dad was also quite the motivator. He blinked, his bushy eyebrows raising.

"Well, of course. Though you'll probably wanna change first. I thought for sure that you had changed your mind about taking a lazy day." If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. He nodded meaningfully toward the pajamas that Olivia hadn't yet changed out of. She blushed.

"I'll get ready real quick. Give me ten minutes." A deep chuckle escaped him.

"No rush. Not like we've got other plans today." Her dad's tall figure disappeared back down the hall as Olivia rose and hurried toward the bathroom. After rushing through a quick shower and combing out her damp hair into long, flat planes, she approached her closet and steeled herself. Pulling it open greeted her with yet another reminder of the differences between her past and present selves—her wardrobe. This is… somehow even worse than I remember.

Collections of baggy logo tees and pants hung from the rack above, most of them faded and worn well past the point where they should have been tossed. Holes of various sizes adorned the knees of every pair of jeans. The holes weren't some cosmetic choice or intentional alteration, however. Far from it. They were merely a consequence of time, use, and a general lack of regard for their longevity. Why hadn't the threadbare garments been replaced? It wasn't a matter of money.

In fact, she rather distinctly recalled repeated offers to go shopping for new clothes from both of her parents. But Olivia hated waste. And at this point in time, her threshold for when a shirt had reached the end of its life was… high. A lot higher than most. She pulled out one particularly egregious pair of jeans. The knees had been completely chewed through, held together only by the seams on either side. The exposed white threads hung limp as they framed the rift like froth from some creature's great maw.

Sighing, Olivia shook her head and put the sorry excuse for pants back as she dug around for other options. Most of the closet's contents told the same story. She even identified a few shirts so discolored that she immediately took them down and banished them into a pile to be tossed later. Which was when she found the rest of her clothes. There, stuffed in the corner, sat a collection of sleek, businesslike outfits—pantsuits and dress shirts and slacks.

Their style was completely at odds with the rest of her wardrobe, though their once crisp and professional appearance was undoubtedly marred by wrinkles now. A closer inspection revealed that most still had tags attached. Huh… These have to be mom's doing. She winced at the price listed on one of the tags. Yup. Has to be. It was just more clothing she hadn't wanted to throw out, albeit for an entirely different reason.

Olivia never recalled actually wearing a single one of these outfits, even when the occasion did present itself. She briefly debated wearing one of the button-down shirts, but decided against it. It was ironically closer in style to her current clothing preferences. But then, that wasn't the point, was it? She was supposed to be slipping back into the shoes of high school Olivia, not acting like her current self. Besides, these outfits were a bit formal even by her standards.

She was going to the grocery store, not a work conference. With a slight grimace, he picked out the least worn of the shirts and pants before throwing them on. They technically fit, even if the fit made her look like a skeleton hiding in a trash bag. Given her former self's lack of confidence, the effect was probably intentional. Had she really worn this stuff? Had she been that cringe? At least it's not uncomfortable. Still, maybe this is another minor change I can get away with. Or maybe not.

I'll have to think about it before committing to anything. Her transformation to awkward high schooler complete, Olivia turned to leave. Her hand was already on the doorknob before she instinctually patted her pocket and stopped. Her phone. She still hadn't found the thing. Conscious of the time, Olivia quickly began to rifle through her room. She almost began to think she'd never find it when the little handheld device eventually tumbled out of her blankets and onto the floor.

Scooping it up, Olivia took a closer look. It was just as she remembered. A Yeskia. A simple brick of a device featuring little more than a keypad and a screen no larger than two bottlecaps pushed together. No camera, no internet, and certainly no touchscreen. It was as basic a phone as one could feasibly get. Like her clothes, it was an old model, nicks and scrapes marring the edges where the little phone had been dropped or suffered other assorted abuse.

Yet despite the obvious wear, the thing stubbornly kept on working—and would until years later, when Olivia would finally give in and replace it with a more modern smartphone. Actually… do smartphones even exist yet? Or are those still on the way? She would have looked it up, but unfortunately, the little Yeskia lacked that capability. She filed the thought away mentally to look into later. There were doubtless plenty of other details she'd need to research as well in order to keep her stories straight.

Thumbing the keypad caused the screen to illuminate with a soft beep. The date displayed there confirmed her suspicions. It was 2006, twenty years in the past—almost to the day. It wasn't the craziest time jump. Twenty years ago was close enough to her current—no, her old life—to not be entirely foreign. Though inconsistencies were sure to pop up as time went on. Olivia checked her contacts, browsing through the names. It was a rather sparse list.

Most of them she recognized, though a few like "Ryan" and "Ashley" remained ambiguous enough that she wasn't entirely able to place the name to a singular face. Her thumb paused over the keypad. Hesitantly, she tapped out a series of digits, each one accompanied by a soft, melodious beep. It was one of the few phone numbers that she'd memorized throughout her life, just in case. Jason's. The digits glowed on its small screen as her thumb hovered over the "call" button. Olivia bit her lip. I could call him.

Right now. It would be so easy. Jason hadn't ever changed his phone number, as far as she knew, so it would theoretically work. Assuming he had a phone at this point. It wasn't exactly a guarantee—she couldn't remember exactly when he'd gotten his—but still… Her thumb quickly darted to hit the "cancel" button as she throttled the temptation. No. It was a stupid idea, for so many reasons. Why was she even entertaining it?

Shoving the phone in her pocket, Olivia decided she'd wasted enough time and rushed down the stairs. She found her dad in the office area, browsing on a stout computer. He glanced up at her approach.

"Wow. That was a fast shower. You sure you got everything?" Olivia grimaced inwardly. Dangit. I did something else out of character, didn't I? Maybe I should have waited to shower until tonight… She shut that line of thinking down before it could develop any further. This had to qualify as a minor change. It had to. Besides, she'd honestly needed one. Olivia shrugged and tried to smile.

"I think so. At least, I hope I did for both of our sakes. Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting too long?"

"Not at all. Told you, I'm in no rush." He waved her off.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready when you are." He nodded, putting the computer to sleep and heaving himself to his feet.

"Right-o! Then let's get a move on. To the store we go!" The pair headed out to the garage and piled into the family's trusty white sedan. As her dad turned the keys, they were greeted with a blast of 80's rock that felt dated even by the standards of this time period. Then, without further ado, they were on their way. It was time to see what twenty years had done to her local grocery store.