I shake my head roughly. I’m not going to use that. I’m happy for John, but his future has nothing to do with me.
OUIJA, I type instead, back to my old banker word.
After a few more guesses, I get the answer—STAND.
I stare at it for a second, feeling strangely flat inside. Each Wordle answer used to give me a little thrill. A sign that I was one day closer to my yearlong streak, maybe even a sign about some upcoming event in my life. Now all I see is a random, five-letter word.
I turn my eyes to the high, painted ceiling, but all I can see is John standing on my Waldon doorstep.
I do have a dream job, he said.
Footsteps echo again down the hall. The caterers are gone; David, Katarina, and Leah are headed toward me, all of them slightly flushed and smiling.
“There you are!” Katarina says brightly.
“Benedita said we could wander around the rest of the museum a bit while it’s empty,” Leah adds, “as long as we tell the security guards where we’re going and don’t try to steal any priceless art. Want to come with?”
“Oh—sure,” I say automatically. “That sounds great.”
“Just let me pee first,” Katarina says, and pops into the ladies’ room nearby.
“Way too much champagne,” Leah adds, following her.
David smiles at me as the bathroom door swings shut behind them. He has a nice smile, I notice. Wide and straight, with a deep dimple on both cheeks.
“Are you having fun?” he asks.
I nod. “This place is gorgeous at night.”
“Definitely.” He glances at my phone. “Hey, is that Wordle?”
I look down. “Oh—yeah.” I smile sheepishly. “Had to do it before midnight.”
“Don’t show me the answer,” he says, putting one hand over his eyes. “I haven’t done it yet. Don’t want to cheat.”
“Do you have a streak going?”
He nods. “Ninety-two days. You?”
“Almost a year.”
He laughs, bright and easy. “That’s awesome.”
Katarina and Leah emerge from the bathroom, giggling and swaying slightly on their heels.
“C’mon,” Leah says. “Let’s go explore.”
She and Katarina head off, arm in arm, and David takes a few steps after them. Then he turns back and smiles at me. “You coming?”
He holds a hand out to me, palm up.
As he stands there, smiling under the glittering lights, something happens to me—something I’m not sure I could explain if I live to be a hundred. I have this sudden—vision, I guess, of what my life will be like if I reach out and take his hand.
He and Leah and Katarina and I will grow closer and closer. We’ll eat dinners together and laugh over coffee at lunch, we’ll slowly start to share our hopes and troubles and fears. And then one night, way down the road, when the memories of John have faded away, David will smile at me and ask me to dinner, and I’ll say yes, full of fizzy excitement and unbridled glee.
Flash forward another five or ten years, and we’re both curators at some big museum. Maybe the Met, maybe somewhere else entirely. We’re getting stopped by guests every few feet as we walk through an event, and chatting in between interruptions about our dog’s flea medicine or a trip we’ve got planned. He says something funny and I laugh and smack his arm. Things aren’t perfect—maybe we fight now and then, maybe some of our work is a bit of a grind—but at the end of the day, I’m happy. Really, truly happy.
I could have that. I can see it clear as day. And it would be a great life. A really, really great life.
