One True Loves(36)

He got down on one knee.

“Oh, God,” I said, overwhelmed and stunned. “Sam! What are you doing?”

“I just don’t have a ring yet,” he said. “But I know everything else. Come here.” He reached for my hand and held it in his.

“Emma,” he said, teary. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I always have. You and I . . . we fit like the gears of a machine, like interlocking pieces that join together effortlessly, turning in tandem, perfectly in sync.

“I believe in us, sweetheart. I believe that I am good for you and that I am a better man because of you. And I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. So, Emma Blair, here it is: Will you marry me?”

The first thought that popped into my head was, This is too soon. But then the second thought was, I think I deserve to be happy.

“Yes,” I said quietly. I was surprised just how hard it was to project my voice in that moment, how much my astonishment had muted me. But he heard me. He knew my answer. He stood up and kissed me as if it were the first time.

I felt a welling in my eyes that I knew I stood no chance of holding back. I started bawling.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked me.

I nodded emphatically. “I’m wonderful,” I said. “I’m . . .”

I wasn’t sure what word I was looking for, what adjective I could possibly use to describe the chaotic elation that was running through my heart.

“I love you,” I said, realizing that it was as close as I could ever get.

“I love you, too.”

I was tempted to say, “I’m so grateful for you,” and “I can’t believe you’re real,” but instead I pulled him close to me and held him as tight as I possibly could.

He dried my tears as we hailed a cab. He held my hand as we rode back to our apartment. He brushed the hair out of my face as we walked in.

He helped me unzip my dress. We made love on our bed, parallel to the headboard, as if there wasn’t any time to lie right. We lost ourselves in each other, the last vestige of a wall between us had been knocked down.

Afterward, Sam opened a bottle of champagne. He got his phone and held it in his hand as we called everyone on speakerphone to tell them the good news.

When we were done, we walked into the living room and played “Heart and Soul” together, half-naked, drunk, and swooning.

As I sat next to him on the piano bench, I said, “What if I’d never walked into the music store . . .”

Sam smiled gently and looked at me as he played the keys on the piano ever so softly. And then he said, “But you did.”

I decided that was my answer to questions of fate. I could go around asking myself what if x hadn’t happened, and the answer would always be, “But it did.”

What if Jesse hadn’t gotten on that helicopter?

But he did.

I decided to no longer wonder what would have happened if things had worked out differently. And instead, I would focus on what was in front of me. I would focus on reality instead of asking myself questions about fictions.

I kissed Sam’s temple. “Take me to bed!” I said.

Sam laughed and took his hands off the piano. “OK, but most of the time when women say that, they mean it sexually.”

I laughed. “I mean it sleep-ually,” I said.

And then I let out a yelp as Sam stood up and lifted me into his arms.

“Sleep-ually it is,” he said as he laid me down on my side of our bed and tucked me in. I fell asleep in the crook of his arm just as he said, “I’m going to find you the perfect diamond ring. I promise.”

I was joyful that night.

I felt as if I was moving forward.

I thought that if Jesse could see me from wherever he was, he’d be smiling.

What I was not thinking was, Jesse is alive. He’ll be home in two months. Look what I’ve done.





AFTER




Both

Or, how to put everything you love at risk





I am lying awake in bed next to Sam, staring at the ceiling. Our gray cat, Mozart, is lying on my feet. Homer, his brother, is black and white and never leaves his spot underneath the piano in the living room except to eat.

It’s almost nine a.m. on Wednesday, one of my days off and the day Sam doesn’t have to be at school until eleven. On these late mornings, I have illusions about the two of us going out for breakfast, but Sam always refuses to open his eyes until the very last second. This school year so far we have gone to breakfast on a Wednesday exactly zero times. Right now, Sam is sound asleep beside me.

It’s been seven weeks since I found out that Jesse was alive. Our initial conversation was kept brief, and due to concerns of Jesse’s well-being, contact has been limited. I have been getting most of my updates via e-mail from his mother, Francine.

All I know is that he’s been at risk for refeeding syndrome and complications from hypoglycemia.

The doctors did not clear him to be released until yesterday.

That means that he is coming home tomorrow.

When I told Sam about this last night, he said, “OK. How are you feeling?”

I told him the God’s honest truth. “I have no idea.”

I am very confused right now. In fact, I’m so confused that I’m confused about how confused I am.