He’s surprised by the number of items that roll out of the black bag, but when he realizes what they are, his surprise visibly doubles. “How did you get these? Did Ryan send them?”
“They were in CeeCee’s basement, buried beneath all her wedding keepsakes,” I say, watching as he realizes I’ve withheld this.
“Why?” is the first question that unfolds from his mouth.
“Because,” I pause for what feels like an eternity. “Because I wanted us to make this decision together. The last time it didn’t work, you…” I can’t bring myself to say that he left. It was for a good reason, but he still did. And it hurt me. “There are too many unknowns,” I say instead.
He nods. “Almost everything is unknown. I was worried that if you stayed twenty-three, aging independently of your body, therewas no way I could be sure that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes of those seven years, but the one thing I’m certain of is that you have grown. The way you dropped everything to be there for your family. Even the way you worked to help me with my event. I wanted an excuse to run, so I ran.” His glassy eyes bore into mine. They only alleviate a fraction of my worry. “Even if the crystals don’t work, I’m not going anywhere this time.”
“Right. A guaranteed happy ending for us. If they do work, though,” I say shakily, “this may not happen again. We may never find our way back to each other.”
“That’s true.” His eyebrows furrow.
“On the other hand, if I don’t at least try, then I’ll definitely lose seven years with my dad.” My heart aches at the thought. “I’m not delusional. I don’t think I can go back and cure him or whatever, but I see now how precious the time I had with him was and how much of it I wasted.”
Drew nods thoughtfully, taking his time to respond. “If I were in your shoes and it were my mom, I know which choice I would make.”
Words don’t come right away; tears threaten to fall.
“Nolan.” He says my name like it’s sacred. “If that’s the decision you make, I have no doubt that your growth will help us find happiness again.”
Overcome, I lean across the table and kiss him, because I don’t know what else to do and I have nothing left to say. Never have I been surer that nothing matters more than my family and Drew.
No. Wrong. Drewisand always has been my family. My home. And our love bled romantic long before we tried to compress the wound and stop the spillage.
Now, we’re overflowing with the stuff, even if it hurts.
For the rest of the evening, we drink whiskey, we take Milkshake for a walk, and we make plans like I’m a wealthy English teenagerabout to embark on a tour of the European continent to stoke adventure and learning.
If I end up staying, we’ll sell my apartment, move into Drew’s, and I’ll help out at the bookstore. I’ll disavow my celebrity, return to the Hardy-Har Hideaway, and start over from scratch. My name may still carry weight, but I’ll create a new persona. No suits. No man-child. No meanness. Just me and a microphone. Like it was at Imogen’s party. Back to basics.
If I go back, well, there’s a lot of uncertainty there. All I do is make a promise that I’ll right my mistakes as best I can. The shift in my priorities is sedimented in my soul. Even if I forget this experience, the lessons they taught me won’t go anywhere.
I call Mom to check in on her. Imogen can be heard rehearsing knock-knock jokes in the background. The kid caught the bug, and I’m not apologizing for it. When Mom has exhausted her topics—the garden, the food at the memory care facility, the pickup lane at Imogen’s new pre-K—she puts CeeCee on the phone.
“What are you typing?” she asks when she hears the clack of my keyboard.
“I’m sending you an email,” I tell her.
“We’re literally talking right now,” she says with a snort. “Can’t you just say what you need to say and save the dramatics?”
“Me? Save the dramatics? Never,” I say and hit Send. “Check your computer.”
In come the sounds of CeeCee walking around, stealing into the bedroom, and announcing that she’ll be closing the door. A slight gasp rings through the phone when she sees what I’ve sent. “Holy shit, Nolan. What is this?”
“Half is to pay for Dad’s care and half is a college fund for Imogen,” I say.
“No, duh. I got that,” she says. “But…but why?”
People seem insistent on asking me that today. “Because you deserve a little back after helping Mom and Dad all these years. Because I love you and I love Imogen and I want her to succeed. Even if I won’t be there to see it.” I hope this one small act will offer my family some security when I’m gone.
Will I be gone, or will I be replaced? Will this timeline go on without me? Gah, too many existential questions for my already fried and frazzled brain. I promised to leave this reality better than how I found it, and this is a part of that.
CeeCee brings me back with a gentle “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say. I understand all too well the sadness embedded beneath thatoh.
Our goodbyes morph into good lucks, and our good lucks morph into I-love-you’s. Before she hangs up, she says, “I can’t wait to see you on the other side.”
