I just started reading the book Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. It’s the first book in a series of of novels that was originally an award-winning play. The idea behind the story is a simple premise: time travel in a nondescript cafe. The customers of the cafe Funiculi Funicula can travel back in time, to any time they like and to see whomever they choose, but there is one basic rule they must all follow, above all: they must return before their cup of coffee gets cold. A few other caveats are thrown in, too, to make things a bit more challenging: you can only time travel when sitting in a designated seat in the cafe. You cannot get up from the seat at any point of this time travel session. And lastly, whatever is said and done when you go back to the present time, nothing will be able to change the future. The present will still be the present, and all will be unchanged.

The beginning is painfully slow. I wasn’t actually sure I would continue reading because of how slow and annoying the descriptions were in the beginning. It also is extremely annoying to read about all the cultural stereotypes of how Japanese men vs. women are. Japanese society, like most Asian cultures, does not like to express emotions openly. They are sexually repressed and can never fully say what they think to others out loud, even people who are supposed to be their closest friends or family. So that repeatedly happens throughout the stories in the book. But my general rule with all books is that I have to read to page 100 to decide whether I really want to continue or not. Some books are just slower than others, and that’s how stories can build.

But then I got to the second story in the book about two sisters. One runs a bar and runs a pretty casual life, but we later learn that she left home and got cut off from her parents because as the oldest, she was expected to take over their family business of running an inn, which she didn’t want for herself. Her younger sister is left to to take over the inn. The sisters got along as children, but as they get older, they drift. The older sister is constantly pushing the younger sister away when all the younger sister wants is to be close to her big sister. The younger sister dies in a tragic head-on car collision. The older sister finds out and is struck with so much grief. After over a decade of never going home, she finally goes back to the family house, where she finds her parents mourning her sister’s dead body, lying in an altar-like state. Her parents ignore her and pretend she isn’t there. Later, she goes to the cafe in an attempt to see her late little sister one more time. Another caveat is introduced: when you time travel back to see someone who is deceased, a little alarm goes off at your table to warn you it’s almost time to leave… because the cafe knows from experience that in tragic reunions like these, the person time traveling never wants to leave their deceased loved one.

When there is a person who comes to the cafe to time travel, they need to pinpoint a specific point in time they want to go back to, and who they want to see. And usually, they have a purpose: they want to re-phrase something they said. They want to share a letter that they failed to give. They want to take back something they said. This particular sisters story was particularly touching to me because I think about what it would be like to time travel to the past to see Ed again, and which moment I would have chosen. Of course, this is a bit different: this younger sister did not die by suicide; her death was 100 percent accidental. At first, I was unsure when I would have chosen. But then, I thought… I would time travel to March 2013, when I was home for a long and painful two weeks on my own, without Chris. Endless arguments and snips from my parents happened that trip. But I would time travel to the day I suggested to Ed that we take a walk and get bubble tea at 23rd St and Clement in San Francisco. I would have had a different conversation with him. I still remember the conversation we had: I shared with him that I was worried and wanted him to get therapy. I would have come with a better plan to help. I would have reassured him with stronger words how much I loved him and wanted him to get better. I would also have reiterated to him that he needed to get the hell out of our parents’ house and move out on his own. I would have asked him to commit to a plan and reassured him that he had so much more potential.

Like in the Funiculi Funicula cafe, the present would not change. He’d still be gone. But maybe if I’d had a firmer, more reassuring conversation with him about how deeply concerned I was and how much I loved him, maybe I’d feel a tiny bit better about what I did. I suppose I will never stop regretting what I did and didn’t do with him. But regardless, the world keeps turning and we must go on. I wonder if I had had the conversation I really wanted to have if that would have elicited different words from him. Maybe he would have shared something with me during that conversation that would give me more closure today. Even though it would hurt a lot to see him again, I would jump at the chance to time travel back to see and talk to him again.