“It’s not the flu. It’s you.”
“Well, that’s just rude.”
“It’s not having you.”
“Who says you don’t have me?” I ask.
“I took more Theraflu to knock me out.”
“You sound dehydrated. Have you been drinking water?”
“It’s still not over…” he mumbles. I think he’s quotingThe Notebook.
I press a kiss to his warm forehead. “It’s not over.” I sit on the bed next to him, holding his hand in my lap. His face is smushed against a pillow. “I just want to say one thing, and then I’m going to make soup.”
“Okay.”
I try to formulate the words in my head so I get it right.
After a pause, he mutters, “Did you say it yet?”
“No. Did you hear me say something?”
“I dunno.”
“Okay, well, this might not be the optimal time to say this to you, but I need to say it. I think I know what the story ofGiselleis really about now…”
“Hmmm.”
“A part of us has to die before we can really be in love. The person we fall in love with protects us and brings us back from the parts that are dead or broken, even if we can’t be together on the same plane of existence. Even if we’re different. That’s what makes love real. But I don’t need you to understand me. I just want to be with you. I love you. I’m here for you. I’m going to make you soup. Don’t get up.”
He squeezes my hand and mumbles something. I only understand the words “swan” and “time.” He is delirious. He is asleep.
I am in John’s bed when I wake up and realize that he’s sitting next to me, watching me.
“Beautiful dreamer,” he sings, “wake unto me.”
Sunlight streams through the window. His eyes are clear. I reach up to touch his face. He is no longer feverish.
“Damn, that soup really works.”
Last night, I made him sit up in bed and spoon-fed him a bowl of Steph’s Sickie-Poo Soup, and then he went right back to sleep.
“I think something was leaving my system. I think it was fear.”
“Oryou were sick.”
“Don’t be cynical.”
“Okay.”
John holds my hand. “I love you.”
Damn, that soup really, really works.
He strokes my arm. “I’ve been falling in love with you for most of my life, but I didn’t know it until two years ago when I saw you dance in Pittsburgh. I made a last-minute decision to go toSwan Lake. I didn’t tell anyone. I had a meeting with my parents in Cleveland and was supposed to return to Palo Alto that night, but I decided to stop by Pittsburgh because I just…wanted to see you,” he says. “But I didn’t know if you’d want to see me, so… That’s when I realized that I wanted to marry you. That’s when I realized how beautiful and important ballet is and how important it is for you to do it. It was an epiphany. Iwas going to go say hi to you backstage, but Julian was there. I figured it just wasn’t the right time. Yet.”
Gasp.“Oh my God. The lavender bouquet.”
