“Right, that role-playing game... the day I met you three,” Luciano said, turning his right wrist to show her his little black star. But he looked at it like he was seeing it for the first time.
Aida leaned on the railing, looking out over the grass courtyard below. A group of children were playing some game with a ball, which involved them tackling each other to get control. Their laughter bubbled up and echoed off the building.
“They seem so happy,” she said.
Luciano looked over the rail, then turned his body toward hers. “So, Aida, I was thinking...”
“Of?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I was thinking of what it would be like to always be with you.”
Aida’s stomach fluttered. “What are you suggesting?”
“This may sound strange, but I feel like I almost lost you. I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
Aida understood exactly what he meant, but she didn’t know why. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, teasing.
“Want to grow old with me, Aida?”
She beamed. “Oh, Luciano, yes! That would make me deliriously happy.”
Epilogue
Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge
August 2022
“There she is,” Graham said, pointing to a marble headstone etched with Erin’s name.
A rush of emotions flooded through Aida. It was hard to believe that she hadn’t seen Erin or Graham for three years. This was not the reunion she had ever expected. Aida knelt and placed the bouquet of white tulips on the grave. Below her name was etched a quote from Langston Hughes, a poet Erin had always admired.Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.
“I’m glad I came,” Aida said. “Thank you.” She stood and gave her ex-fiancé a hug.
“I’m glad you came too,” he said. “Have a good trip home.” Graham shook Luciano’s hand and returned to his car.
“He seems like a nice guy,” Luciano said after he was gone.
“I think he is?” she said, trying to remember. “I’m having one of those weird memory issues again,” she admitted. “I think he was a nice guy, but just the wrong guy for me.”
“His loss, my win,” he said.
Aida turned back to the grave. She didn’t want to leave just yet. “I can’t even remember why she moved back to Boston,” she murmured to Luciano. “I can’t remember... so many things.”
Luciano put an arm around her. “It’s okay to forget details,” he said gently. “It doesn’t change what she meant to you.”
Aida nodded, though the forgetting weighed heavy on her. Itwasn’t just the details about Erin—it was everything. The past few years had been hazy, a common experience, she knew, but it was still unsettling. The pandemic had disrupted more than just daily life; for millions, it had left a strange fog over memories, making it harder to grasp the little things that once were so clear.
“I know.” Aida wiped her tears with a tissue she’d pulled from her purse. “I feel like something important happened that I should remember... It’s on the edge of my thoughts, but I can’t quite recall it. But I remember her laugh, the way she made me feel loved.” She smiled through the tears. “That’s what matters, right?”
“That’s what matters,” Luciano agreed, his hand resting on her shoulder.
They lingered a little longer, silent, watching the shadows shift as the afternoon sun filtered through the trees.
Eventually, Aida kissed her fingertips and placed them against her friend’s name. “I love you, Erin,” she whispered.
As they walked slowly back toward the car Yumi had loaned them, Aida slipped her arm through Luciano’s.
“I’m looking forward to the concert tonight,” Luciano told her. “You’ve told me so much about the Hatch Shell, and we couldn’t have asked for more beautiful weather.”
