“Do you remember when we first met?” She asks me. Her back was facing me, her face looking out at the snowy field she had demanded we look at before going inside for the night. Her dress was blowing slightly in the wind, and I wondered why I didn’t insist more than she wear something warmer.
She was already sick enough.
When I didn’t respond, I could hear her sigh. “It was May 9th, we were in the 10th grade, and Mallory and Will had insisted we were perfect for each other.” She took a breath, shuddering from the cold. “I think it took us all of about 15 minutes to realize that we hated each other. You were c***y and a little too into the hockey game we were at, and I-”
“You were tired and a little too into your ex still.” She laughed as I cut her off. I could hear kids laughing from behind us, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. “I still think he was a total jerk by the way.”
As I cheered along with the crowd around me, I could see the look of boredom and almost embarrassment on the face of my date. She had no real interest in being there.
She laughed again, “You only think that because the next time you saw me, I was with him.” I forced a scoff, but we both new she was right.
“Come on, it’s getting cold, and you need to eat something.”
“Just a few more minutes, I may never get a moment or a view like this again.”
It felt as though she had punched me in the stomach. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you remember when we found out that we were both going to the same college?”
She nodded, her hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “You insisted that it was fate. I said that I needed to find a way to revoke my early decision agreement.” She paused, “Then you told me that you would follow me anywhere, that we were meant to be. You were insane.”
“I’m not giving up on you, you can’t get rid of me that easily!” I called to her as she walked away from me, half amused and half annoyed. The truth of the matter was, if she wanted me gone I’d leave, but until that happened I couldn’t give up.
“But I got the girl, didn’t I?” I found it in me to smile at her laughter, light and airy, like windchimes. “I kept her too.”
“Yes, you did, you definitely did.” She leaned against the banister that looked over the field, “I still say that we would have found our way back to each other one day.”
We spoke in unison, “You and I are like the opposite ends of a magnet. We may be different, but we always get pulled together.” I don’t think I could ever get tired of that saying. “I remember when you first used that line.”
She nodded, “It was when I needed to step up to keep us together. It was our first big fight, I was pushing myself too hard between classes and clubs, and you were just trying to make sure I was taking care of myself.”
“Which you weren’t. You weren’t sleeping or eating.”
She nodded, “I know, you were right. I blew up at you and you, ever the poet, called us glass.”
“You and I are glass, fragile and see through, and, just like glass, we shatter fast.” It felt weird, quoting myself, but she nodded again.
“Yes, and you left. It took me all of 15 seconds to grab my jacket and run out after you and correct you.”
Her lips were cold but the words she said once she pulled away warmed me up. “You’re wrong, you’re so wrong about us. You and I are like the opposite ends of a magnet. We may be different, but we always get pulled together. Don’t you dare tell me we’re glass after everything we’ve been through. Glass isn’t as strong as what we have, got that?”
I felt myself smile slightly, “Kissing me had always been your way of apologizing.” She laughed, and I stood up. I slowly walked over to her, my boots crunching the little bit of snow that decided to stick. As I slowly wrapped my arms around her waist, she leaned into me. Sighing in content as she went. “Warmer?”
Her response was a soft hum. I placed my head into the crook of her shoulder, and kissed the side of her jaw softly. She placed her hands over mine, and I hugged her tighter, careful not to hurt her in any way. “I love you.”
“I love you too, always.” Her voice was quiet, but her grip was tight, almost as if she was scared to let go. I know that I was. “Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?”
I laughed, vibrating through both of us. “It was at Will’s Christmas party. I had just published my second novel.”
“You stood up during dinner, and asked to read the acknowledgement to everyone, “My love, without you, this would have never happened. When you read this I am going to ask you to give me forever.”
I watched the way tears fell down her cheeks, but her smile was brighter than the white lights throughout the house. Slowly, but surely, she began to nod and through her laughter, she told me yes. It was the yes I had waited years to hear.
I breathed out, “You were crying and I was on one knee, and you said yes, you promised me forever.” My throat felt tight again. “We were supposed to be forever. We were supposed to have forever.”
She shushed me. “We still may have it.” She squeezed my left wrist, her fingers ghosting over my pulse. It had taken me months into our relationship to realize that was her way of telling me that she was here for me. “I still love the story of how I told you I was pregnant. God, we were so young.”
“We were 22, you were illustrating your first online series, and you made an update telling everyone.” It had been a single frame. One hand was on her stomach, the other was holding up a positive pregnancy test.
“I showed it to you on a Tuesday, after dinner, which in retrospect was a bad idea since you threw up and almost fainted.” She sighed again, “Now he’s in college, I can’t believe it.”
“Please, can you look at it now?” She insisted as I nuzzled the crook of her neck. “I worked all week on this and you’re the only person I care about seeing it!” I sighed, but turned to look at her computer. The screen immediately made my stomach turn over and I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. But when I felt something rise inside me, I all but pushed her aside and ran to the bathroom, leaving her to call after me, worried and upset.
I nodded, “Remember his 8th birthday?”
“How could I ever forget it?” She exclaimed
I chuckled, “He was all upset, and you asked him what was wrong. He said that he didn’t get all the presents that he wanted. You almost freaked out, thinking you screwed up. He said all he really wanted was a baby sister.” She giggled, ducking her chin downwards, already knowing the end of the story. “That was the night you told us that you were pregnant again. It was just luck that he ended up getting a sister,”
When our son complained that he had wished for a little sister, I didn’t know how to respond. But she simply laughed, and took his hands in hers, and spoke softly, “Oh honey, you don’t have to wait much longer for that.” That time, I’m proud to say I didn’t throw up.
She hummed, “He’s so good with her, so protective, so caring. I remember the look on his face the first time he got to hold her. It was then that I knew that he was going to grow up like his parents, loving people unconditionally and openly.
“They really are the perfect siblings.” I added, “You remember when he came to us, afraid she would be upset that he was leaving home.”
He had asked during dinner if he could speak to her and I alone. Our daughter retreated to her bedroom, curious but respectful of whatever it was he wanted to talk about. “I still haven’t told her about where I’m going to college. Man, she’s going to be so upset, and I won’t be able to make sure those jerks at school leave her alone.” I placed a hand on his shoulder, and assured him that she would be okay.
“He was more worries about her than about us.” I hugged her just a little bit tighter and her voice grew nostalgic. “It’s really been an amazing 22 years, hasn’t it?”
“A better 22 years than I would have ever dreamed of.” I agreed softly. “If I have my way, we’ll have another 60.” She leaned into me more. I could feel her facial muscles contract slightly into a watery smile. A tell-tale sign of her nerves breaking through her attempt to be strong.
“Hopefully you get your way.” She took a deep breath, “But even if we don’t, our time together is more than so many people get. We made it through college. We got to see your novels hit number 1, and my galleries sell out. We got married, we had a son, we had a daughter. We fought, God, we fought, but we always made up. You help me when I cried, and I kissed your sadness away. We loved in a way that my parents never got to, you proved to me that love was real. We loved in every way a person could imagine. We loved, we, we lived. And that will always be more than enough.” She took a new, deep breath, “You’re the Juliet to my Romeo, the Hazel Grace to my Augustus, the Rose to my Jack. You were, are, my love.”
I choked back a sob. I desperately wanted to make a joke on how she mixed up our genders or how her teen girl side was showing, but I couldn’t. “Why do they all die? Why do you die first in all of those examples?” I asked, my voice pleading for her to tell me she was wrong.
“Oh love, everyone dies at some point.” I could feel the wetness of her tears falling onto our folded hands. She got out one more line before dissolving into tears just like I had. “It’s about how we lived, not how long, and we lived a damn good life.”
We stood there, two fully grown adults, crying. I hugged her to me, willing whatever higher being may or may not have existed, that lived above the ubiquitous line we placed for ourselves to denote good versus bad, to never force me to let go of her.
“Mom, Dad?” We were forced to turn to see our son, who was obviously trying not to cry, standing at the door. “Are you guys okay?”
“Oh hun, we will be.” She told him, promising something I wasn’t sure would be true. “Are Aunt Mal and Uncle Will complaining that they’re hungry?”
He shook his head, “No, Mom, your doctor is on the phone. The only reason Uncle Will isn’t cursing for him to tell him the results is since the punk is in the room.”
“Alright, come on, we shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer.” She pulled away from me, but squeezed my wrist. We linked hands as we walked over to our son. She kissed his forehead softly, and the two of them whispered quiet “I love you, pal”s. I hugged him tightly, and he and I walked into the living room just as she had repeated the process with our daughter, parents, and best friends. She took the phone, shooting us all one last small smile before ducking into the kitchen where no one could hear her conversation.
“Come here Princess.” I whispered, and our little girl who was just getting a little too big for this, crawled into my lap, holding herself together as much as a ten-year old could. Our son sat next to us, holding his sister’s hands, and placing his free one onto my shoulder.
Before it had felt colder inside, but I was finally filled with warmth as our entire family sa in a comforting silence. I thought of all the memories she and I had recounted, and the ones we still had tucked away. I looked around at the family I never could have believed I would have.
I thought about what she had said tonight, and when she walked out I knew she was right. She had to be right. When the others scattered to give her and I room, I knew that she was right. She had to be right. When she gave me that watery smile that I knew all too well, I knew she was right. She had to be right. When she reached down to squeeze my wrist, I knew she was right. She had to be right. When she ducked down to catch my lips in a soft kiss, I knew she was right. She had to be right. When she finally spoke, I knew she was right. She had to be right.
A love like ours was always going to be enough, no matter what. She was right.
Fin.