[ WP ] Every ten years you 're allowed to have a conversation with your ten-year-younger self , but only the senior remembers the conversation . 20 year old you wakes up from talking to 30 year old you with one word carved on their arm ...

I woke to the cheerful chirp of my cell phone's morning alarm. I rolled over on my side to dismiss it, and the sleepy murmur of my waking thoughts were abruptly overtaken by searing pain. `` Agh!'' I cried, rolling off my right arm and cradling it. `` What the hell?!'' I looked at it, almost afraid of what I would find. And then confusion rolled in like a storm, complete and befuddling. Carved into my right forearm was a single word, two letters long. 
 
 *GO* 
 
 I winced, touching the broken skin tenderly with my other hand. The cut was shallow, more of a severe scrape than a true incision, and the wound had already scabbed over. I looked around the room, trying to gather my thoughts. What was going on? How had this happened while I slept? I stopped, realizing that I could n't remember what had happened last night after coming back to my room after showering in the hall baths. I had been planning on studying for Thursday's exam... 
 
 My eyes fell on the calendar. November 23rd. Of course. 
 
 A series of realizations broke over me like chilly little waves. 
 
 My family is n't very... occult. They do n't go in for things like ghost stories and whatnot. But my mom loves to tell this one about when I was a newborn, not even a week old. `` She was just crying and screaming her head off,'' Mom would say. `` Nothing we did worked. I rocked, I sang, I fed her, I bathed her. I even,'' she would always look a little embarrassed at this part, `` I even shouted at her.'' And then Dad made her put me down before she lost it and they went and sat in the next room for a bit to calm down before trying again. `` At first her crying got worse. So much worse! The kind of screams that make your blood run cold. I thought she would make herself sick from crying so hard. But then, just as I could n't take it any more, and was going to go back to the nursery, it just... stopped.'' She had dashed into the room, certain that I had somehow cried myself to grievous injury, only to find that I was fast asleep, with my face nuzzled up next to the sleeve of an old yellow cardigan. `` I had n't worn that cardigan since *college*,'' Mom would whisper, her eyes getting wide. `` I had completely forgotten about it, though it was stored in the nursery closet, which held a lot of old clothes at the time.'' Dad had been with her the whole time, and no one else was in the house, so if they had n't pulled the cardigan out for the baby, `` Then who was it?'' Of course, she freaked out a little at the time because, 1 ) ghost cardigan, and 2 ) you're not supposed to put anything in the crib with the baby because it increases the risk of SIDS. But it stopped me from crying, so she left it in there with me but kept a sharp eye and ear out. 
 
 For the longest time, I thought it was just a creepy story that Mom liked to tell to mess with me. *Do n't be bad or your ghostie godmother will be mad! * But as I got a little older, I suspected that maybe she had just been too tired and forgot about doing it herself. Then, on the night of my tenth birthday, I was on a sugar high and trying in vain to fall asleep in bed when suddenly, a crying baby was in the room with me. It did n't take too long to figure out after that. 
 
 On my twentieth birthday, four days ago, I went back and visited my ten year-old self. She wanted to know if I was in college ( yes ), if I had a boyfriend ( yes ), and if things were cooler after you turned 18 ( kind of ). She still seemed a little frazzled about the baby episode, and we figured out together that this seemed to be something that happened every 10 years. But then I confessed that I did n't remember seeing 20 year-old me when I was ten, but she seemed to remember her recent interaction with the baby, and that's when we realized that the younger self would n't remember, but the older self would. She asked me if I had seen 30 year-old me yet, and I told her that I had n't. `` Well, it's four days after my birthday today,'' she said. `` It's November 23rd.'' 
 
 `` I wonder how long we've got?'' I said. `` Until we ca n't speak any more.'' The ten year-old seemed to panic at the notion that our conversation was a limited commodity and seemed to jump up with the urgency of her next question. 
 
 `` Mom and Dad,'' she said. `` Do Mom and Dad... are they...'' She swallowed. `` Are they proud of me?'' 
 
 Before I could formulate an answer, I was back in my dorm room. I tried to think back and recall the visit from my 10 year-old perspective. There had been nothing. 
 
 And now, I had had *my* visitation with the future. At least I knew that I would live to be 30. It was an odd assurance to have, but some days were just so difficult. The classes, the responsibilities, the people... Some days, I just wanted to stop. 
 
 *GO* burned on my arm, stinging, warm. I washed it with soap and water, setting my jaw at the renewed tingles of pain, and trying to hide what I was doing from the other girls who came through the bathroom. 
 
 I had Organic Chemistry that morning, and a lab in the afternoon. As I set up my ink chromatography experiment, my phone vibrated on the lab bench where I had left it with the rest of my things. I checked it. It was a text from my boyfriend. 
 
 *U comin over 2nite? Miss U* 
 
 I gnawed on my lip. Arch and I had been on and off for over a year now. Really, ever since we had started dating. Somewhere in the back of my head, I had an inkling that it was n't going to work out, and it was never going to work out. But I was so used to being in a relationship with him; that's why I kept going back. And Arch did n't seem to mind. He just kind of went with it. If I wanted a break, we took a break. But then he'd invite me over to hang out or whatever, and then we'd be back on again. It was exhausting, but it was just part of the routine. 
 
 I scratched at my arm and winced. 
 
 *GO* 
 
 A couple of other people were at Arch's place when I showed up. `` I told'em you'd make them your specialty,'' he said. `` Chicken fried rice!'' 
 
 I wish I could say this was the first time he's sprung a dinner party on me. 
 
 I made dinner, and then I tried in vain to study in Arch's bedroom while he and his friends played their tabletop game all night. At one point, I found myself lying on the dirty carpet of his bedroom, staring at the patchy ceiling and wondering what I was doing with my life. *It's not like anyone else out there wants me, * I thought. *Besides, Arch ca n't possibly take care of himself. He needs me to stay. * 
 
 I flexed my right hand. 
 
 *GO* 
 
 -- 
 
 A month later, I ran into the girl who runs my chemistry lab at the cafe. `` Hey!'' she said. `` You're the one who draws the little cats on test papers when you do n't know the answer.'' 
 
 `` Yeah,'' I admitted, a little embarrassed. `` I do it for the grader, because I feel bad.'' 
 
 `` Well,'' she said, `` that would be me. So thanks for the doodles. I look forward to them!'' Then she cleared her throat and said, `` Not that you should take that as encouragement to do better on your tests.'' 
 
 Sue and I got along surprisingly well, and we met regularly for coffee. `` What's up with this new wardrobe?'' she asked me once. `` And you definitely got a hair cut. Is there a new guy?'' 
 
 `` Nope,'' I allowed myself a smile. `` Just got rid of the old one, that's all.'' 
 
 On one of our long rambling talks, I divulged that I had never seen *Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire* because I had loved the book so much that I was afraid that the movie would murder it. So she invited me over to her place that weekend. `` We're celebrating a friend's birthday,'' she said. `` He's kind of a nerd, so it's Harry Potter-themed. We'll be marathoning the movies in the background.'' She poked my elbow across the table. `` You wan na come?'' 
 
 `` Would n't it be weird since I do n't know the guy?'' I protested. One-on-one interactions were fine, but larger crowds really got to me. 
 
 `` Oh, it'll be fine,'' she said. `` I'll be there.'' 
 
 I opened my mouth to refuse, but before I could say the words, my eyes fell to my right forearm. The scratches had healed weeks ago, but the impression was still fresh in my mind. 
 
 `` Ok,'' I said, a little nervous. `` I'll go.'' 
 
 -- 
 
 Matt successfully defended his dissertation and earned his PhD. I was so proud of him, and so nervous. 
 
 `` Honey,'' said Matt when he got back to our apartment. `` Um.'' I looked up from my computer, where I was applying to jobs in the area. 
 
 `` What's up?'' 
 
 `` I got it,'' he said. `` The postdoc at UC Irvine. They want me.'' 
 
 My heart dropped. `` What about the university here?'' I said. `` What did Dr. Grossman say?'' 
 
 Matt looked at his feet. `` He's uh, not saying yet. But the PI at Irvine sounds super excited about my ideas for research. I'm going to start in the fall.'' He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. `` I know it's a big move. But I... I ca n't turn this down. Working with this professor has been... it's been a dream of mine since I started going down this path.'' 
 
 I shook myself. `` Why do you look so down then?'' I said, forcing myself to be chipper. `` That's awesome! Congratulations, baby.'' 
 
 Matt's face reddened. `` I know you do n't want to leave this area,'' he said. `` Your family and friends are all here. But I do n't want to do this without you.'' 
 
 My chest tightened. California was all the way across the country. 
 
 My right arm tingled. 
 
 I got up and put my arms around him. `` You do n't have to,'' I said. `` Let's go.'' 
 
 

