“You may be, but what about everyone else? The eight billion other people in the world? Even assuming that David’s death didn’t have bigger ramifications on the global stage,” she reminds me gently but firmly. “You can’t just assume that you can change one thing and that’s the only thing that will change. That’s rarely what happens when you meddle with time. It’s why we don’t.”

An ambulance speeds by.

“I’m having tea now,” she says in an almost dreamy tone. “When David dies. Blake is upstairs playing that stupid Call of Duty game. My husband, he’s at work… God bless him. He’s going to be the last to find out, and I’m going to have to tell him.”

We sit in silence for what feels like ten minutes, neither of us sure what to say.

“Ask the question that you want to ask, Andre,” she urges.

“I don’t…”

She holds her hand up, opens a compact mirror with her free hand, and stares into it while dabbing at her eyes. “Take a moment and think. What’s the question you want to ask more than anything. Something you’ve been wondering for the past month? Something I didn’t fully answer before? Even if you haven’t thought it yet, not consciously at least, you know what it is.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. My mind is filled with other things. Dread at having to face Blake again, anger at myself for thinking this would actually work. Pain. Hurt. Fear. All of those things. But a question? What could she…

And then it clicks.

“Why did you pick me?”

She smiles, closing the mirror with a loud click. “There we go,” she muses. “Finally, you ask.”

Claire turns to me in her seat. The belt slides against her chest and pulls tight with a loud click. She reaches over, placing her hand over my own, and gives me a firm yet soft squeeze.

“I put a lot of pressure on you,” she says. “Throwing you into my world and not preparing you. Expecting you to continue our family line. I didn’t even ask if you want to—have children, I mean. And I don’t need to know. That’s not a weight I should put on anyone, not my own children and certainly not you. I take full responsibility for that. For you being here. For not…focusing enough on you.”

“And on Blake,” I remind her. “He’s the one who’s suffering. He…feels lost without Dave. His older brother was his guide, no matter how put together he seems.” I hesitate, but she squeezes my hand again, a silent confirmation that I should keep going. “He told me all of this because he felt like he couldn’t come to you,” I say quickly, so I can’t take it back. “And there’s a reason for that.”