“What?” Rune asked, the now-familiar scent of his cigarette smoke billowing before us.
“This,” I said, “Us, walking down Broadway. We would walk the city, heading to meet friends, to our schools or our apartment.” I nudged his arm over my shoulder. “You would hold me just like this and we would talk. You’d tell me about your day and I’d tell you about mine.” I smiled at the normalcy of the picture. Because I didn’t need grand gestures or fairy tales; a normal life with the boy I loved would have always been enough.
Even in this moment, it was worth everything.
Rune didn’t say anything. I had learned that when I spoke like this, so candidly about things that would never come to pass, Rune found it best to say nothing at all. And it was okay. I understood why he had to protect his already-breaking heart.
If I could protect it for him I would, but I was the cause.
I just prayed, to all that was good, that I could also be the remedy.
Seeing the banner on the old building, I looked up at Rune and said, “We’re nearly there.”
Rune looked around in confusion, and I was glad. I didn’t want him to see where we were. I didn’t want him to be angry at a gesture kindly meant. I didn’t want him to hurt at being forced to see the future that could be his.
I steered Rune left toward a building. Rune threw his finished cigarette to the ground and took my hand in his. Walking to the register, I asked for our tickets.
Rune pushed my hand from my purse when I tried to pay. He paid, not yet knowing where we were. I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Such a gentleman,” I teased, and watched as he rolled his eyes.
“I’m not sure your daddy thinks that way about me.”
I couldn’t contain my laugh. As I giggled freely, Rune stopped and watched me, holding out his hand. I placed mine in his and let him pull me to him. His mouth landed just above my ear and he said, “Why is it when you laugh like that I desperately need to take your picture?”
I looked up, my laughter fading. “Because you capture all aspects of the human condition—the good, the bad, the truth.” I shrugged and added, “Because despite how much you protest and exude an aura of darkness, you strive for happiness, you wish to be happy.”
“Poppy.” Rune turned his head. As always, he didn’t want to embrace the truth, but it was there, locked deep in his heart. All he had ever wanted was to be happy—just him and me.
For me, I wanted him to learn to be happy alone. Even though I would walk beside him every day in his heart.
“Rune,” I urged softly. “Please come with me.”
Rune stared at my outstretched hand, before relenting and clasping our hands tightly together. Even then he stared at our joined hands with a hint of pain behind his guarded eyes.
Bringing those hands to my lips, I kissed the back of his hand and brought them to my cheek. Rune exhaled through his nose. Finally, he pulled me under the protection of his arm. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I led him through the double doors, revealing the show on the other side.
We were greeted with a vast, open space, famous pictures framed by the high walls. Rune stilled, and I looked up just in time to see his surprised yet impassioned reaction on seeing his dream showcased before him. An exhibition of pictures that had shaped our time.
Pictures that had changed the world.
Perfectly captured moments in time.
Rune’s chest expanded slowly as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled with guarded calmness. He glanced down at me and opened his lips. Not a sound came out. Not a single word formed.
Rubbing my hand across his chest, under the camera that was hanging around his neck, I said, “I found out this exhibition was on last night and wanted you to see it. It’ll be here for the year, but I wanted to be here, with you, in this moment. I … I wanted to share this with you.”
Rune blinked, his expression neutral. The only reaction he displayed was the clenching of his jaw. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Slipping from below his arm, I loosely held his fingers. Consulting the guidebook, I brought us to the first picture in the exhibition. I smiled, seeing the sailor in the center of Times Square dipping the nurse back to kiss her on the lips. “New York City. August 14, 1945. V-J Day in Times Square by Alfred Eisenstaedt,” I read. And I felt the lightness and the excitement of the celebration through the image displayed before me. I felt I was there, sharing that moment with all who were there.
I looked up at Rune, and I saw him studying the picture. His expression hadn’t changed, but I saw his jaw slacken as his head tilted slightly to one side.
His fingers twitched in mine.