Am I Right or Am I Right? by Barry Jonsberg Page A

I detect a shiftiness in her eyes. It might be annoyance at running late, though. I can’t be sure.
    “Caught me ditching, Calma?” She is trying to lighten the tone, but I’m having none of it. I give her my steely gaze.
    “Look,” she says, “I had to work at the supermarket on Sunday and Monday. I’d double-booked myself, but I couldn’t tell the casino that, could I? So I called in sick. Shoot me! Now I’m sorry, Calma, but I’m late and unless you get out of my way, I’ll drop you with a karate chop to the neck.”
    It sounds reasonable. The explanation, that is, not the threat of mindless violence. I stand aside and she drives off. I feel easier in my mind.
    FastF™
     
    It is Friday evening and I am waiting outside the cinema for Jason. I’m tingly with nervousness, scanning the crowds of people, looking for his face. I am thirty minutes early and worried I’ll seem too eager. I tried to be late. My brain had issued firm instructions to the rest of my body that a lateness of at least ten minutes was required, on the grounds that this would ensure Jason would be tingly with anticipation and scanning the crowds of passersby for
my
face. Unfortunately, the rest of my body had performed a bloodless coup and propelled itself to the cinema with unseemly haste.
    I see the Fridge.
    The cinema is part of a large shopping and entertainment complex. There are many restaurants and bars. I catch a glimpse of a woman’s face as she enters a restaurant. She has her back to me and is partly obscured by passing traffic. But she turns her face briefly to the side and smiles at someone next to her. I can’t see who it is. It is over in a flash, a fraction of a second, a single frame in the spool of time. Too quick to be sure.
    But I
am
sure. It’s the Fridge.
    I move toward the restaurant, but Jason separates from a crowd and I stop. It wouldn’t take much to go over and check, peer in through the window, but suddenly I’m scared of knowledge and its implications. I smile at Jason and we collect our tickets.
    FastF™
     
    “Did you have fun last night?” says the Fridge. “And why are you wearing that towel around your head?”
    It is Saturday morning and I’m picking at a round of toast. The Fridge is drinking coffee.
    “Yeah, great,” I reply, ignoring her last question. “How was work?”
    “Oh, you know. Work is work. Nothing to write home about. Tell me about your evening.”
    But I don’t. Not really. My heart isn’t in it.
    I want to know why she is lying to me but don’t have the courage to ask. I’m not sure if I can handle the truth.
    ReWND™
     
    I forgot to tell you about the rewind function, didn’t I? Well, it’s a logical extension, after all. I’ve skipped over some pretty important stuff, not the least being the big date with Jason, and we’ve got to engage in some literary time travel if we want to get it all in.
    Anyway, wait until you get to the ReCRD™ button. Trust me. It’ll blow your mind.

Chapter 9
    Just your average week
    Actually, when I think about it, I’m not sure I want to go over the events of the week. If I’m honest, it wasn’t the best week I’ve ever experienced. Not that anything went
terminally
wrong, you understand. But not a whole lot went right, either.
    You know I said I had missed some important stuff and that’s why we had to go back in time? That’s not strictly true. Sorry. It was a cheap narrative device to keep you focused. Of course, the date with Jason was interesting and I will give you a full run-down later. But the rest of the week was not high on drama, so yes, I misled you. I apologize. Believe me when I say I feel better for having got that off my chest.
    I’ll start with Vanessa.
    You’ll remember I left Vanessa’s house on Sunday in a state of simmering resentment at her lukewarm reaction to my romantic liaison with Jason. You might also recall that by the time I had finished on the phone with Jason, I had mellowed.
    It’s