My chest relaxes a little, confident she has at least gotten this message. Even if I never talk to her again after this, she’ll know forever how I felt.
“Yes, I do,” I say.
“Really?” But her voice breaks at the word, and she falls into my arms crying.
“What?” I ask, unsure how she’s feeling.
“My whole life, I never thought—” Her voice falters but then the words spill out. “I never thought anyone would feel that way about me.”
“Oh, Ces.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold her face against my shoulder.
She grabs my hands.
“No cane?” she asks.
“My eyesight has improved a lot,” I say.
“That’s great!” she says. “Oh my God, Will, that’s so great. Can you see me, like, right now?”
“Yes, I can see you quite well. You have a beautiful smile.”
She bites her lip.
“I mean it,” I say. “I’m sorry for the things I said in the car that day. You’re beautiful. You always have been, and you always will be.”
She melts against my shoulder.
“You want to go for a walk?” I ask.
“A walk?” she says, as if waking up from a dream to find us standing on a porch in California.
“I’ve never seen the ocean, and since we’re so close, I thought, you know…”
“Okay,” she says.
She takes my hand, and we walk down the stairs and back out to the sidewalk toward the beach. With my free hand, I give a little wave toward the car to let them know everything is fine. Cecily seems so wrapped up in our walk that she doesn’t even notice all the thumbs-ups they flash in return.
We take off our shoes, walk out onto the sand, and eventually sit down near the water. We watch the deep green waves rise and then crash into light foam that spreads across the beach. I wonder how much longer I will be able to appreciate sights like this. I pick up a handful of sand and let it stream through my fingers. The grains are far too small to identify individually. Instead, they blend together like a streak of cream-colored paint.
“What?” she asks, grabbing my other hand. “What’s wrong?”
She was so happy when the surgery seemed to have worked, when she could finally show me a sunrise. It hurts to tell her about the swelling, but I do.
“What are the—” she starts to ask.
“Fifty percent.” I say the number like I’m referring to the 50 percent chance I’ll go blind again, not the 50 percent that I’ll retain my eyesight.
“The flip of a coin,” she says.
“The flip of a coin,” I repeat.
We are quiet for a while, listening to the sound of the waves.
“So,” I say, “what do we do now?”
She smiles. It feels like a misplaced expression. I wonder if I’m reading it correctly. What could she be happy about?
“You could start by kissing me,” she says.
“What?” I say, caught completely off guard.
“You heard me,” she says, rotating to face me.
I stammer, “I didn’t realize that you felt, uh, you know, like that about me—”
She puts a finger on my lips, cutting me off. “I think I’ve loved you from the first time we went to that museum, Will. I just never believed you could love me back. I never believed anyone could love me back.”
“But now?” I ask softly.
She leans her perfect face in till it’s just inches away from mine. “Well, there must be some reason you drove all this way to see me, right?”
“There is,” I say. “If I’m going to lose my sight again, I wanted to make sure you were the last thing I ever saw.”
I put my hand behind her neck, pulling her the final inches until our lips meet. I close my eyes, and the world goes dark as my lips light up, my whole body tingling. I run my fingers up the back of her head and pull her tight against me, wanting her to know that I don’t ever intend to let go. We kiss like that on the white sand beach until the sky lights up in a fiery sunset. We hold hands and watch until the sun dips below the horizon, disappearing to someplace our human eyes cannot see.
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MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS
Spring Semester, Day 1
FINAL SCRIPT
[approved for broadcast by V. Everbrook]
CECILY
Good morning, I’m Cecily Hoder.
WILL
And I’m Will Porter.
CECILY
We’re your new announcement coanchors. Traditionally, this show begins each year with each host sharing his or her New Year’s resolution. By the flip of a coin, Will has been chosen to go first. Will?
WILL
Thanks, Cecily.