Once and for All(94)

I blinked, immediately feeling a lump rise in my throat. I left it all up to him, William had told me. I thought of that night with the candles, how frustrated I’d been by Ambrose’s insistence on blowing them out his way, and then of the wish wall at Maya and Roger’s wedding, the second chances I’d asked for. I’d made so many wishes, though, that hadn’t come true.

My mom was coming down the hallway now, John in tow: I saw she was holding his hand, her cheeks pink, happier than I’d ever seen her. “This is Louna,” she said, taking my arm. “Louna, this is John Sheldon.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I said, as the doorbell rang again.

“Happy birthday.” Up close, I saw what I’d thought was one big bouquet was actually two smaller ones. He handed me a bunch of daisies, then gave my mother the other, gorgeous, frilly peonies. Her favorite. Nice. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course,” I said, as the doorbell rang again. “One second, let me just get this. I think it’s my boyfriend.”

As I left them, I realized this was the first time I’d referred to him this way out loud. It felt strange in my mouth, in a way I hadn’t expected, something I tried to swallow as I went down the hallway to the door. When I opened it, Ben was standing there with a bunch of balloons, more flowers, and what was clearly a tennis racket, wrapped in pink paper decorated with hearts. He had his phone in his hand and snapped a picture of my face before I could even manage to smile.

“Hey,” I said, blinking. “Is this the surprise?”

“One of them,” he replied, stepping forward and kissing me on the cheek. No dive bomb: I saw it coming, and didn’t flinch a bit. “Sorry I’m late. There was all this traffic. A dog darted out in the road and some guy followed and got hit trying to grab it. Total gridlock.”

Instantly, I felt cold. “A dog? Was . . . is everyone okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said, holding out the flowers to me. Roses this time, dark red. “It had just happened when I drove by. All I saw was a bandana in the road.”

He stepped past me then, inside, but I just stood there in the open door, frozen to the spot. Behind me, I could hear my mother, William, and their dates talking, the happy sounds of people meeting who have something important in common. The world always goes on, even when your own part of it stops. I knew this better than anyone. I was aware, too, how quickly you could lose the things you thought would be around forever, or at least long enough for you to change your mind.

“Louna?” Ben asked from behind me. “You coming?”

MAKE A WISH, the cake had read, and right then I knew what mine was. Please, God, I thought, as I stepped over the threshold, hurrying down the stairs. When I got to the sidewalk, I reached down, unbuckling my shoes. Then I left them behind as I ran, barefoot, toward the growing sound of sirens.

At first, all I could see were red and blue lights, flashing. Traffic had slowed to a crawl in both directions, a single officer trying to wave people through one lane at a time. On both sides of the street, people had gathered, either alone or in clumps, eerily silent as they watched the paramedics working on someone by the curb.

My heart was in my mouth, the beat filling my ears, as I rounded the corner, dodging around two women with strollers. One had a hand to her mouth, the other her baby in her arms, its chubby cheek pressed against her own. “Careful,” she called out to me, her voice sharp; part admonishment, part warning. But I’d been that way all this time, and it hadn’t changed a thing. Maybe it was better to barrel through life, breaking fragile things and catching on every jagged edge. Neat or messy, calm or crazy, I still ended up in this same place.

Finally, I reached the intersection, stumbling to a stop. I was vaguely aware of my feet hurting, skin split in places as I stood on the curb, scanning the stopped traffic all around me. Emergencies shouldn’t feel the same, with similar colors and noises, when each one is so unique, all its own. I thought of myself all those months ago, standing in the emptying hallway at school, gradually more and more alone as I stood on the edge of knowing and not, a place I’d later tell myself I would have returned to a million times over if I could. But now, I realized it was really no better, that uncertainty. Even when there’s still hope, it’s hard to see, especially with tears in your eyes.

“Miss!” I heard as I stepped off the curb, in between two cars. I could feel the heat coming off them, the warmth of the pavement under my feet, one of which was definitely bleeding now. A policeman blurred in my side vision, still yelling at me. “You can’t go there. Turn back!”

I didn’t, pushing through past idling engines, the distant sound of radios, the hushed whispers of another set of bystanders, now watching me.

“Miss!” the cop yelled again. He was coming toward me now. I squeezed around a final bumper, feeling hot chrome on my leg, then looked to my right, where the EMTs were huddled over something bulky in the road, a blanket draped across it.

Everything got slower, suddenly: the banging approach of the cop’s footsteps, the slow roll of a nearby car creeping forward, my own breath, now audible and jagged in my lungs. One of the paramedics was on his radio now, another racing along the opposite sidewalk with a gurney, wheels rattling. Every sound so specific and unique I already knew I’d remember it later, and forever. A sob escaped my lips, primal and terrifying, as I felt the cop grab my upper arm.