Page 96 of Exit Party

But he seemed unimportant. The other two men were shouting at each other and examining the equipment.

What he wished in later years was that he might return momentarily to that version of himself, to the man crouched terrified on the floor in those first minutes, that he could tell him: There will be darkness for a while, you will spend a year in a detention camp in the Mojave Desert, but that life will draw to a close and a new life will begin when Ibari comes for you.

2

He saw his double again only briefly, only once, on the day Ibari came to him. They drove and then walked to the desert train station, while he told the story of the party for what he decided would be the final time, and then took the train into Los Angeles, connected with a trolley, and walked a few blocks to a house between towers. Ibari had explained the terms of the arrangement. He would care for the children. She would be there to help. His double wished to devote his time to working against the State and didn’t want to be a parent anymore. Kareem had braced himself for the meeting, but he still wasn’t prepared when the door to the house opened, and his double stood before him. Ibari pulled Kareem inside quickly, and the two men stared at one another in the foyer. They weren’t exactly identical, Kareem saw now. His double was a little heavier, and had a furtive expression that Kareem didn’t entirely recognize.

“She took all the recording devices out of the house,” the double said finally, with a glance at Ibari.

“Okay,” Kareem said. He wasn’t sure why a house would have recording devices in it.

“I told the kids my brother would be taking care of them for a few days,” the double said.

“Where are you going?” Kareem asked, and immediately regretted it. It was a stupid question, he decided. Whatever his double was up to, it was secret enough that it was best he didn’t know.

“I need to devote myself to the Resistance,” the double said. “It’s easier to do, and less dangerous for the kids, if I remove myself.”

His suitcase was just inside the door, Kareem saw now.

“Can you tell me how I got here?” Kareem sensed the other man’s longing to take the suitcase and run.

“Yeah. I guess I owe you that.” The double was quiet for a second. “The great advances in science,” he said, “the discovery of penicillin and so forth, often they were accidents. I think this will be thought of in the same way, someday.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Kareem was wondering if he himself was as annoying as his double. The double still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“There was an accident,” the double said. “I don’t understand how it happened. We were experimenting with teleportation.”

“Between universes?”

“Not on purpose,” the double said. “Are you up for this?”

“Up for what?”

The double glared at Ibari. “You didn’t tell him.”

“She did tell me,” Kareem said. “You want me to trade places with you and raise your children.”

“Yes.” The double picked up his suitcase. “I’m sorry,” the double said, finally. “I know it’s a lot.”

“What can you tell me about them? Your children?”

“They’re . . . I don’t know,” the man said. “They’re normal kids.” He met Kareem’s gaze before his eyes darted away. It seemed to Kareem that his double was afraid. In the years that followed, Kareem wished sometimes he could freeze time at this moment, to ask him more, talk to him, trace their stories back to a point of divergence. But the man was gone, walking away with his suitcase.

“Please tell me my manners are better than that guy’s,” Kareem said.

“Let’s sit in the living room,” Ibari said, “and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Two hours later the children were home from preschool, delivered by a babysitter, who withdrew and left Marlowe and Samir staring at Kareem from the living room doorway. They looked like Kareem, that was the first thing he thought. No, they looked like what his and Gloria’s children would have looked like, if they’d had two children, if he’d been able to stay in the timeline where he’d once thrown a party.

“This is your dad’s brother,” Ibari said brightly. “Remember? Dad told you he’d be looking after you for a few days?”

“You look like our dad,” the boy said. Samir, Kareem remembered now. Samir’s hair was very short, and stuck up oddly in a way that made Kareem think the boy had maybe cut it himself with kitchen scissors.

“Well, I’m related to your dad,” Kareem said. “We’ve always looked alike.” His heart was beating too quickly. Would the entire rest of his life be this awkward? “Did your dad tell you where he’s going, by the way?”

“He said he had to go on a work trip,” the boy said.

“Motherfucker,” Kareem said quietly. It was all a bit much.