The Sun Is Also a Star(67)

Tears are streaming down his face now. Watching him cry hurts more than I ever thought it could. Still, there’s one more thing I have to say.



“You don’t get to regret us.”

He makes a sound, and now I know what a lifetime of pain sounds like.

People make mistakes all the time. Small ones, like you get in the wrong checkout line. The one with the lady with a hundred coupons and a checkbook.

Sometimes you make medium-sized ones. You go to medical school instead of pursuing your passion.

Sometimes you make big ones.

You give up.

I sit down on my sofa bed. I’m more tired than I realize, and not as angry as I thought. “When we get to Jamaica, you have to at least try. Go on auditions. And be better to Mom. She’s done everything, and she’s tired, and you owe it to us. You don’t get to live in your head anymore.”

My mom’s crying now. Peter walks into her arms for a hug. My father goes to them both, and my mom accepts him. As one, they turn to look at me and gesture for me to join them. I turn to Daniel first. He hugs me so tightly, it’s like we’re saying goodbye already.





THE DRIVER LOADS NATASHA’S SUITCASE into the trunk. Peter and her parents have already gone ahead to the airport via a separate cab.

Inside, Natasha lays her head on Daniel’s shoulder. Her hair tickles his nose. It’s a feeling he wishes he’d have more time to get used to.

“Do you think we would’ve worked out in the end?” she asks him.

“Yes.” He says it without hesitation. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“You finally came around.” A smile is in his voice.

“How hard would it have been for your parents?” she asks.

“It would take them a long time. Longer for my dad. I don’t think they’d have come to our wedding.” A picture of that future day floats up in Natasha’s mind. She sees an ocean. Daniel handsome in his tuxedo. Her hand on his face wiping away the sadness at his parents’ absence. The joy on his face when she finally says I do.

“How many kids do you want?” she asks, after the pain of that vision recedes.



“Two. What about you?”

She lifts her head from his shoulder, hesitant, but then confesses: “I’m not sure if I want any at all. Would you’ve been okay with that?”

He didn’t expect that answer, and it takes him a moment to accept it. “I think so. I don’t know. Maybe you’d change your mind. Maybe I would.”

“I have something to tell you,” she says, laying her head back down.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be a doctor.”

He turns his head, smiles into her hair. “What about doing the practical thing?”

“Practicality is overrated,” she says.

“Are you still going to be a data scientist?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. It’d be nice to be passionate about something.”

“What a difference a day makes,” he says.

Neither of them speaks, because what is there to say? It’s been a long day.

Natasha breaks their glum silence. “So, how many more questions do we have left?”

He takes out his phone. “Two more from section three. And we still have to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.”

“We could do that or make out right here.”

From the front seat their driver, Miguel, interrupts. “You guys know I can hear you, right?” He looks at them in the rearview mirror. “I can see you too.” Then he laughs a big meaty laugh. “Some people get in the cab and like to pretend I’m deaf and blind, but I ain’t. Just so you know.”



He laughs his meaty laugh again, and Natasha and Daniel can’t help but join him.

But their joined laughter fades as the reality of the moment reasserts itself. Daniel takes Natasha’s face in his hands and they kiss soft kisses. The chemistry is still there. They’re both too warm, both unsure what to do with hands that seem meant only for touching each other.

Miguel doesn’t say a word. He’s had his heart broken before. He knows what damage looks like.

Daniel speaks first. “Question thirty-four. What would you save from a fire?”

Natasha considers. It does feel to her like her entire world is being razed. And the one thing that she wants to save, she can’t.

To Daniel she says: “I don’t have anything yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Good enough,” he says. “Mine’s easy. My notebook.”

He touches his jacket pocket to reassure himself it’s still there.

“Last question,” he says. “Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find the most disturbing, and why?”

“My dad.”

Daniel notes that it’s the first time Natasha’s called him dad instead of father.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because he’s not done yet. What about you?”



“Yours,” he says.

“I’m not your family, though.”

“Yes you are,” he says, thinking about what Natasha said earlier about multiverses. In some other universe they are married, maybe with two children, or maybe with none. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”