Alan opens it, and inside is a diamond ring, the kind only a high-end brand jewelry designer could make.My stomach flips.That thing probably costs tens of thousands of dollars.
“Fenella,” he says softly, “will you marry me?”
My mouth hangs open with a sharp gasp.My eyes widen, blinking fast as I try to process what’s happening.Not in a million years did I imagine a man with a limp and a burned leg kneeling in front of me, proposing in the middle of an open park in winter.
“Alan, I—”
“Fenella.”
He says my name again.I clear my throat, probably because I’ve been standing here with my jaw dropped like an imbecile.This conversation just took the wildest turn.
“Alan, please.Don’t make me the bad one again.Wasn’t it enough that I turned you down on prom night?”I plant my hands on my hips, pacing back and forth, running my fingers through my hair to calm myself down.
If I were Amy, I’d probably throw myself into his arms right now.But I’m not Amy Schmidt.I’m just me.A simple, foolish girl who still believes real love stories can exist in this messed-up modern world.
“Fenella, I can wait.Just take this ring for now.I promise I won’t ask for it back.”
“You’re not serious, Alan.”My voice snaps sharper than I intend.
“I am serious, Fenella.Keep it.Don’t give it back.When you’re ready, you can come to me wearing it.But if you don’t ever want to, you can sell it.Donate it.Whatever you want.”
“Are you out of your mind?”I turn toward him, my face twisted in disbelief.
“Yes, Fenella.I’m out of my mind.I just want you to take the ring and keep it.That’s all.”
Alan stays kneeling on one knee, the box still open in his hand.Around us, people stop and watch like it’s some grand romantic moment straight out of a movie.But to me, it’s more like a horror scene I can’t wake up from.
“So what then?If I take this ring, you’ll wait for me forever?Until death?”
“Yes.”Alan nods, calm and steady.
“No.Stop this, Alan.Please.I can’t accept it.I love Laird.”I shake my head just as firmly as he nods.
Alan’s love might be bigger, louder, deeper—everything a poet would write about.But my heart’s already made its choice.
“I’m sorry, Alan,” I whisper, my chest tight.“I can’t accept it.”
I can’t carry the weight anymore.I came to Boston hoping to find a little peace, just some quiet from all the noise in my head.But of course, Alan has to chase me all the way here.Figures.
I don’t care about anything anymore.Right now, I just need silence.That’s why I go home and leave him behind.
When I get there, it hits me—I left my mom alone at the park with all those things.The trolley’s still there.She must’ve pushed it all the way back herself.She’s tough, but the thought still makes me feel guilty.
No.I can’t see Alan again.How could he hold on for this long?How could he do everything with me as his only goal?
I head upstairs to my room and drop onto the bed.I rest the back of my hand over my eyes and stay still for what feels like forever, lost in thought.My body curls up, eyes shut tight against the light that hurts to look at.My breath comes fast.I whisper curses about my luck, quiet and bitter, until the room is getting too small for all this pain.
* * *
The biting cold wakes me up, making me sneeze a couple of times.I sit up and glance at the open window.The orange sun looks dimmer than it did yesterday.I get out of bed, walk to the end of the room, turn on the heater, and move to close the window.
Outside, Alan and my mom are walking along the sidewalk.He’s pushing her trolley, piled with stuff, helping her up the steps to the house.I keep watching him as he walks away.
Then he looks up, like he knows someone’s watching.Our eyes meet.He lifts his arms high and yells, “Fenella!I’ll wait for you!”
I freeze, then duck behind the wall.I wait for him to leave, but instead, he keeps yelling, loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.
“Fenella!I’ll wait for you until you come to me!You hear me?!”
