The afternoon sun slanted through the project windows like golden bars, painting Mother's kitchen in stripes of light and shadow. She stood at the stove, stirring Saturday's sofrito with the same wooden spoon she'd use until 2018, when I'd buy her a professional set with my first platinum record advance. The memory – or was it a prophecy? – caught in my throat like smoke.
"Rico called me today," she said, her back still turned, but I could read volumes in the tension of her shoulders. In my first life, this conversation had gone differently. I remembered the shouting, the threats to send me to my uncle's in Florida. Now, something in her voice held not just concern, but curiosity.
"He says you're different." The wooden spoon made lazy circles in the pot. "Says you've got an old soul in that young body."
I had to smile at that – Rico didn't know how right he was. The irony tasted bittersweet, like the plantains browning on the counter. "Is that a bad thing?"
Mother finally turned, and I saw in her eyes the same look she'd given me when I'd won my first Grammy – except that hadn't happened yet, might never happen the same way now. "Mi hijo," she said softly, "it's like you grew up overnight. Last month you were my boy, and now..." She gestured vaguely at the papers spread across the kitchen table – production notes written in a shorthand I shouldn't know for another decade, lyrics that spoke of experiences I hadn't lived yet.
*Time flows like rhythm and rhyme
Forward, backward, all in my mind
Every beat drops right on time
Living moments twice defined*
I'd scrawled these words during the predawn hours, trying to capture the vertigo of living between two timelines. The music in my head was a complex fusion of eras – beats that would define 2010 layered with harmonies that wouldn't emerge until 2020, all fighting to be born too soon.
"I just know what I want, Ma," I said, reaching for words that could bridge the gap between her reality and mine. "The music business is changing. Will change. I need to be ready."
She wiped her hands on her apron – the same one I'd replace next Christmas, now stained with years of Sunday dinners and midnight snacks. "Ready for what, Marcus? What do you see coming that has you working like you're running out of time?"
Everything, I wanted to tell her. Streaming services that would revolutionize the industry. Social media platforms that would make or break careers. A pandemic that would reshape how music reached people's hearts. A love story with the biggest star in the world that I had to carefully orchestrate all over again.
Instead, I stood and crossed to her, noting how much taller I was now – had always been? Time travel played tricks with perspective. "Remember how Papi used to say opportunity knocks once?"
Her expression softened at the mention of my father, gone too soon in both timelines. "Yes."
"Well, I hear it knocking, Ma. And this time..." I paused, catching myself. "This time I'm ready to answer."
She studied my face, and I wondered if she could see the years I carried behind my teenage eyes. Finally, she nodded. "Rico also said you've been working on something big. Something that could change everything."
I thought of the tracks waiting on Rico's computer, the ones that blended genres in ways that wouldn't be mainstream for years. In my first life, I'd played it safe, followed trends instead of setting them. But now...
"It could," I admitted. "But I need you to trust me. Even when what I'm doing doesn't make sense. Even when it seems impossible."
Mother turned back to her sofrito, but not before I caught the shine in her eyes. "Impossible?" She laughed softly. "Mi hijo, you've already done the impossible. My wild boy who only cared about basketball and video games now talks like a man with a plan. Like someone who's seen the future."
If she only knew.
Outside, a car passed playing the summer's biggest hit – a song that, in my memory, would be considered "old school" in twenty years. The familiar melody mixed with the scent of sofrito and the weight of future memories, creating a moment suspended between what was and what could be.
"The future's coming faster than anyone thinks," I said, more to myself than to her. "And this time, we'll be ready for it."