"Trevor, I've decided to stay with my grandma," I said calmly, sipping a cup of coffee, an action I performed with the grace of a toddler trying to parallel park because 'I' wasn't used to it.
He'd been valiantly eating the meal, which was less 'cooking' and more 'crime scene,' but now he froze. "What do you mean, Mike? I already paid the rent for the year, and you already agreed."
"Or did something happen that I don't know about?" Concern crept into his voice, but I couldn't help staring into his eyes like a creepy motivational poster.
It's really hard not to judge someone by the future dirt you know they'll do, especially when that future dirt is aimed squarely at your back.
But even setting aside who he might become, I simply couldn't keep hanging around Trevor and his drug deals. Call me old-fashioned, but I would rather my criminal activities to be strictly of the 'pretending to be a lawyer' variety.
"Nothing major, really," I replied, holding his gaze without dodging. "But Grandma convinced me to stay. I can't bear to leave her alone. Plus… I have a new project I've been working on."
Yes, I knew mentioning the project was about as necessary as a screen door on a submarine.
But I'd planned this for the long term, because I'm a genius who sometimes makes genius-level stupid decisions.
To avoid future complications, like me abandoning my 'friend' after success and him looking all betrayed and weepy, it was better to preemptively claim I'd invited him aboard and he'd said no.
See? Utilitarian or paranoid, definitely one of those.
And I know it's too calculating. But sometimes, to protect what matters, you have to make hard choices. At least, that's what Mathew's memories taught me.
Mathew, by the way, was a guy who once tried to transform into Super Saiyan by screaming really loud, so take his wisdom with a grain of salt.
The way he looked at me changed. It was that look, the one people give when they're hurt by someone they 'trust,' when they sense you're about to bail, so they put on a tough "I don't care about him anyway" face.
Exactly what I wanted. Which, naturally, made me push my luck.
"Don't give me that look, Trevor. I really can't leave my grandma. Plus, my project is super important, writing books and starting a ViTube channel. Who knows? Maybe I'll become a successful writer and a superstar. You want in?"
On my end, I was giving him a chance. I know some people end up on his path simply because they don't see another option.
If he genuinely stopped messing with marijuana, I wouldn't mind helping a man become a 'better' version of himself.
But apparently, that only made him angrier.
"After planning this for so long, you're really ghosting me? For that kind of pipe dream? Face reality, Michael. I never expected you to still be this childish." His voice rose, and then he shot up from his seat.
Without another look, he stormed right out of the coffee shop.
I have to admit—I never expected that kind of outburst. Did my plan work too well?
But… am I supposed to pay the bill?
The answer was yes, I paid the bill, what can I do if not?
I left the diner feeling like a piano had been lifted off my chest.
I was actually enjoying the Brooklyn night, something I'd never done before. Funny what a little existential crisis can do for your appreciation of streetlamps.
My current situation in one sentence: I'm a guy with a stranger's memories from a parallel universe where my life is a TV show, I just emotionally nuked my only childhood friend over a ViTube pipe dream, and I'm standing outside a diner feeling lighter than I have in years. Growth or delusion? Honestly, I'll take it.
But here's what hit me on the walk home: maybe I've been overcomplicating everything.
Somewhere in a parallel world, someone's watching me right now, eating popcorn and laughing. So why kill myself over things I don't even want?
Like leaving Grandma. I kept telling myself I had to, because I'm an adult, because it's embarrassing to live off an elderly woman, because I need a 'real career'. But the more I think about it, the more that sounds like nonsense.
Wasn't that exactly what happened to the future 'me'? Worked himself ragged to give Grandma a luxury life, only for her to die lonely while he was too busy being 'necessary.'
No thanks.
The only thing that still felt complicated, if I'm being honest was my dream.
I'd always wanted to be the best goddamn lawyer. The guy who helps people with no one else in their corner.
But after this 'minor' existential crisis, I realized how small that dream actually was. And how ridiculously oversized my talent is.
Eidetic memory, or total recall. A superpower I'd taken for granted like a kid who complains about free ice cream.
In the right hands, this gift could produce a legend bigger than Newton, Einstein, or Tesla. Instead, it produced… a lawyer, even so, it needed more twists.
I couldn't help but chuckle.
Okay, to be fair, a lawyer is still a step up from a ViTube entertainer, which is my current backup plan.
Right?
But for what I actually want to do, the real thing, the history-changing thing, I need two things: popularity and money, lots of both.
By the time I reached Grandma's apartment, I'd already replayed the entire Trevor conversation seven times.
Because apparently, having a perfect memory means you get to relive your embarrassments in 4K Ultra HD whenever you want.
I walked in.
Grandma was on the couch, crossword on her lap, glasses perched on her nose like she'd been born with them.
"You're back early," she said without looking up. Then, after a beat: "It's been like this for three days now. I'm not complaining, you being home is nice. But don't you think I deserve to know what's going on?"
I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. We'd already had a fight a few days ago, when I told her I was moving into Trevor's new apartment.
That's why she was acting so nonchalant now, pretending her crossword was the most important thing in the room.
She just didn't want to pressure me.
"It's nothing complicated," I said, casually dropping onto the couch next to her. "Just hit a little existential crisis and now trying to get my life together. You know, the usual adult crisis."
She looked up and met my eyes. Which, strangely, made me feel slightly pressured.
Then she smiled. The kind of smile that could defuse a bomb or talk a cat down from a tree. All the pressure vanished.
"It's been a long time since I've seen you this carefree," she said softly. "It's good to see you acting like a twenty-one-year-old should."
Her words hit me right in the chest in a good way.
I smiled back. "Guess in this world, it's pretty hard not to get distracted from what really matters with too much noise."
She didn't reply right away. Just sighed before speaking. "Words of wisdom coming from your mouth. I guess my Mike has really grown up."
Behind her serene smile, I caught a complicated look in her eyes. I was absolutely sure she wasn't joking.