Here's an excerpt. Enjoy.
WHEN his cell phone rang, Peat Harris stood in that breath of space between car collision and awareness, an instant of structured chaos. He had made the stupid mistake of calling home the day before, so he couldn’t curse fate for this awkward moment about to happen.
Today, as a Repeat day, should be disconnected from reality like an island from shore. Repeat days, for whatever arbitrary reason, ended at midnight, hit the delete key and started with a blank screen. As if the day had never happened, had yet to happen.
The days disappeared, existing only in Peat’s memory. He alone remembered the original¬ sequence of events. He alone remembered the alterations he manipulated each time after, trying for the right combination.
He had learned that the hard way. On Peat’s first Repeat, he had written and lost a term paper twice before he realized his efforts disappeared at the restart of each day. On a different Repeat day, he’d lost his virginity and now was the only one who remembered how powerful it was. The relationship couldn’t develop after that with chunks missing from their romance.
On today’s original version, he woke with his hands vibrating like a tuning fork, an icy chill of awareness that he had just woken up in the middle of a Repeat day. The accident happened on the I-5 heading south: a pile of commuter travelers stacked like mis-sized Tupperware, with razor sharp edges, ready to topple. The dark sky blunted all the sharp metal angles of the compacted, twisted, mangled cars and trucks. A Miata bit into the foreskin of a Mac truck like a Shiatsu biting the forward flank of a Doberman. The rusty, dull Cadillac had diced up the Prius into little cubes. Glass, shoes, and rubber tires garnished the edges. The dreary pulse of rain made all but the red blood muted, turned off.
When his phone rang a second time, he answered on autopilot. “Hello?” Stepping carefully around the metal carnage, he looked for the car with the kids in it. A little compact car. Maybe the quick ambulance response would save them today.
“Darling, what is that noise?”
Bloody hell. It was his mom. “Roommate’s got a video game going.”
“‘My roommate is playing a video game’,” she corrected. “Can you please ask him to turn down the volume?”
“Mum, I’m going to call you back.” But she’d insisted her son be trained in etiquette and he just couldn’t bring himself to hang up the phone.
“Absolutely darling, but first tell me why you called yesterday. You indicated it was quite important that we speak.”
He rolled his eyes and cursed. The medics had shown up, and he stepped to the sideline to watch. The day would Repeat and maybe he could prevent the accident the next time. Right now he needed information on exactly what had happened so he’d know how to save all these people tomorrow.
His conversation with his mom would reset as well. He could tell her and gauge her reaction and then decide if he really wanted to tell her at all.
He laid on his best British accent—which was natural since Mum and Da were originally from London—knowing she’d be chuffed to hear him use it. “Mother, I wanted you to know. I’m gay.”