Page 119 - What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

What’s the hottest time of day?

The answer, known only to them and hundreds of thousands of disciples of a
certain K-pop band, was 2PM.
On-screen, Jacob waited for her question.
“Hey Jacob, what’s the hottest time of day?”
His reply: “The hottest time of day is 2PM.”
That niggled at her. Jill frowned. Actually two things bothered her—his
having said, “The hottest time of day is 2PM” when the usual answer was simply

“2PM,” and then there was the appearance of Vi’s hand in the shot. It was only
there for a moment before it was withdrawn from the space in front of the lens
with a barely audible “oops,” but Jill could see now that the waving hand was
probably the reason why Jacob laughed a little as he talked his way back toward
the answer (could be that he’d momentarily forgotten the question): “The hottest

time of day is 2PM.”
Alex returned before she could replay the third conversation again. He was in
his early twenties now, and was sporting chin stubble and red chinos. He didn’t
grumble as much as she expected when she made her request that they just watch
some telly together. He quite happily complied, putting his arm around the back
of the sofa and keeping her warm that way. She didn’t have a clue what they
were watching, but took the time to absorb every detail of his face so that later,

when he was gone again and it was twelve-thirty at night, the man who looked
like her and Jacob was superimposed on the darkness.
—

IN THE MORNING Alex came back in his late thirties with photos of his wife
Amina and her granddaughter. Jill went down to the corner shop to try and

prepare herself for her son’s arrival in her own decade of life. She hadn’t looked
into the mirror before going out of the front door—Darren at the corner shop was
shocked and asked her if she was OK. She told him she was fine, and asked
about the date and time. It was four p.m. in the outside world, and a week and
five days had passed since she’d begun testing Presence. Fox rain was falling
(still?) and Jill said: “Time flies, time flies.” Darren asked her if she was OK
again, and this time she asked him how he was. Darren was fine too, or so he

said. Can’t complain . . . She bought some lip balm and went home.
—