I cleared my throat, still working on the branches, and she stood and moved next to me.
"Here, let me show you how to do it so the tree looks more full." She demonstrated while I watched her, my eyes on the line of her small nose, the swell of her bottom lip, the curve of her chin.
I wanted her still, that fact was suddenly unbearable, now unburdened by the prospect of another man.
The only way I could have her was to beg for her forgiveness, apologize for pushing her, for leaving, for disappearing. But could we build on top of the wreckage of our past, or would it all fall apart, unstable and broken?
There was only one way to know — I had to try.
"Like this, see?" she said, her head tilted as she arranged the foliage, and I smiled at her, though she didn't know.
"Yes, I see."
* * *
The sunlight had shifted to hues of orange and red as we crept around the library, the air filled with classical music as Dad slept. The black sheets were nearly all hung around the room, and the furniture had been moved out and the trees moved in. The tent was in the other room, already assembled and waiting to be brought through the double doors when he woke.
Sophie and Sadie had brought in a tray of supplies for s'mores and hot dogs, downloaded a looping track of forest sounds to play, and Elliot brought wood for the fireplace and candles that smelled like pine, sleeping bags, and the planetarium. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, we were all set.
Elliot and I moved around each other silently, sharing moments: her hand brushing against mine, her lips blessing me with the smile I'd wished so much to see, and my heart squeezed and tightened and ached. Something had changed — Was it me? Was it her? — and I felt caught up in her at the prospect of forgiveness. I knew everything that stood between us, and yet it felt inconsequential, simple, a crack rather than a chasm.
I found myself watching her from a few feet away as she stretched onto her tiptoes on the ladder to reach the top shelf, sheet between her fingers. She wobbled, nearly losing her balance — I was at her side, hands circling her waist to steady her. The curve was slight, and my hands rested in it as if they belonged there, the feeling of her against my palms and fingers sending heat through my chest. Another smile, the kind she'd always saved only for me, and as I looked up at her, I imagined her touching my face, kissing me sweetly, telling me—
I let her go and stepped back, not trusting myself.
Dad stirred, and I moved to his side with Elliot by mine. He glanced around, confused. "What's all this?"
"We have a surprise. Hang on."
I grabbed everyone, and within a few minutes, we'd brought everything in, the trees, the tent, all while he watched us with tears in his eyes, lips parted as he took it all in.
I held out my hands in display, our joy so bright, so strong, it filled the room. "You can't get to the Adirondacks, so we brought them to you."
"A camp-in?" he said with a laugh.
I nodded. "Complete with a campfire and stars. The works."
He reached for my hand with glistening eyes. "I'm so fortunate to have you."
I squeezed his fingers and said softly. "No, Dad. We're the lucky ones."
Elliot made quick work of lighting the fire as I sat with him, and Sophie lit the candles, placing them all around the room as Sadie turned on the track of rustling trees and crickets.
Dad looked around in wonder. "Smells like pine and smoke."
"But here's the best part." I killed the lights and clicked on the projector, throwing stars all around the room.
He sighed and laid his head back, eyes tracking the ceiling in wonder.
Elliot was at my elbow, watching him with the same awe I felt, but I found myself watching her. She struck me in that moment, a quiet moment, a moment of reverence.
She was all I'd ever wanted, and she was here, right here. All I had to do was reach out and touch her. All I had to do was ask.
My sisters laid out sleeping bags around the fireplace, and we turned Dad's bed, careful of the machine wires and tubes. And then we sat, telling stories, reminiscing. I watched Elliot as she roasted marshmallows, her face illuminated by the fire, the sound of her laughter filling my heart. I listened as she read Emerson's "Song of Nature," the words floating from her lips like a spell.
It was very late, the fire burned down to embers, and the house was quiet, everyone asleep but me and her, the lot of us lying scattered through the room in sleeping bags. And I found myself in the dark, found her in the dark. I found light and truth in the darkness, hiding there where I couldn't see, right in front of me the whole time.
And all I had to do was reach out and touch her.
Elliot
The room was quiet other than the chirping of crickets. Everyone was asleep except me, and I lay with my eyes on the ceiling, watching the stars next to Wade.
We were so close, close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but still so far away. Something had shifted though, the air between us charged with things he wanted to say — I could feel them in every word, every motion, as if the ice between us had begun to melt, and the boy I used to know was visible once again, though still distorted by the crystalline ice.
He was an enigma to me, every day providing a new challenge, a new fight. I never knew what I'd get. Angry and hot. Solemn and cold. Or warm, like today.
Today, the sun shone. Today, I saw him, saw the tenderness I'd longed for, dreamt of. Today, tonight, was magic.
My eyes were trained on the ceiling as I lost myself in my thoughts, and I was so intent that I didn't realize he wasn't asleep at all, not until his hand moved, reaching for mine in the dark. His fingers slipped into my palm and opened up, winding through my own, our hands clasped as if they were made to touch, as if they'd found their way home.
I turned my head to find him looking at me, his eyes catching the dim light of the room.
"I'm sorry," he whispered so softly, I wondered if I'd heard him at all.
"Me too," I whispered back, my voice too small.
His thumb shifted, stroking the back of my hand gently, and I was overcome, overwhelmed as I wondered if it were a dream. There were no words to speak aloud, the thousands of words we needed to say hanging in the air. But I didn't want them, not in that moment, that perfect, painful moment. I existed in the space between our hands, between the beating of our hearts, between the breaths we slowly sipped, savoring the moment I'd imagined for so long.
There was no certainty in what would come next, when the words found our hiding place and made themselves known.
Minutes passed, the clock on a shelf in the room ticking as we looked into each other's eyes and forgave and begged and hoped. And then, our twined hands weren't enough. He released me to drag my sleeping bag closer, and when he reached for me, when he pulled me into his side, I melted into him. His arms wrapped around me, and I closed my eyes, sure now that it was a dream, a beautiful dream.