Page 28 of In What World

“I suspect ligament damage over a break, but that’s just me.”

“Do you really think Billy’s foot is seriously hurt?” Other Marlowe asks. “That’s going to be absolute hell for the musical. His understudy isn’t ready.”

“Is the understudy Connor?” I ask Other Marlowe.

“It’s Connor,” she confirms. And she’s right. When we look directly at each other, it feels like staring into the sun.

This is pure madness. This is a hallucination. This cannot be real.

There’s another knock on the door.

Cilla claps her hands together. “Ooh, who’s here now? Ireally hope it’s me. I have to see what Utah Priscilla wears. I bet I have a ritualistic soda order. I think I’d do something very interesting in that space.”

From the other side of the door, we hear, “Marlowe, can we please talk?”

If possible, it might be the only person worse than another Cilla—Alice.

“It’s my girlfriend,” Other Marlowe says.

“She’s mine, too,” I say, even though Alice is technically my ex. My very recent ex. My ex I hope to make not my ex anymore, I think. It doesn’t seem like the time or place to get into that, since apparently, I don’t even know what time or place it is. At this point, I’m not even positive I’m alive.

“Dallas told me you’re in here. Please let me in,” Other Alice pleads. “Let’s just talk about it.”

Cilla has taken to leaning against the edge of the desk again, the same way she did when she entered Dallas’s office an hour ago. Or another life ago. Whenever that was.

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend,” she says to me.

“Why would I need to share that with you?” I ask.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks Other Marlowe.

Other Marlowe gives me a desperate look. “Can you talk to her for me?”

“What? No!” I protest in a frantic whisper.

“Please.”

“But I don’t know you,” I say, even though she is me. Who could know her better? Then again, do we ever really know ourselves?

“Come on! Weren’t you an actor once?” Cilla teases, enjoying this way too much.

“Never as good as you,” I say.

“I’m coming in,” Other Alice announces.

Other Marlowe shoves herself inside Dallas’s coat closet right as Other Alice enters the office.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Other Alice says, rushing forward to kiss me.

My Alice has never once called me baby. And when I last saw her, she wasn’t wearing a green shirt.

Bile rises in my throat. I am forced to accept that Cilla Cove is right. This is really, truly, an alternate version of reality.

And this? This is an alternate version of Alice.

I back up just in time to dodge her lips. It doesn’t seem right to kiss her. There are moral complications to work through. Layers it will take years to understand, if ever.

“You’re dating Alice Yeung?” Cilla laughs again, only this time it’s a harsh sound, more judgmental than amused.