- 42 -
December 31, 2045
Dean (3.5 hours until Midnight)
“We have to make one stop. It’ll be fast, I promise.” The words come out carefully, treading lightly around the tension growing in Hallee because of the change. She’s clueless, but I’ve already calculated this stop into the schedule. I told her I’d pick her up for the New Year’s party an hour earlier than I actually needed to.
Like clockwork, she exhales. Sounds pretty annoyed, but I let it slide because I know who I love. “Dean, we’re going to be late to meet everyone.”
No we won’t, I want to scream, but I settle for, “Trust me, Sunshine.”
She must be extremely frazzled to have not caught on yet; we’ve taken this walk almost every day this year. When I picked her up, I thought my clean-shaven face blew my cover. A wide grin squinted her eyes into a sliver of suspicion at me ending the year looking how she likes me the best. Although she wanted to ask, she let it rest. It’s one of the few times she hasn’t gone digging for details, and I’m proud of her for that.
Flurries fall down, shining in the glow of the street light, and her clicking heels settle my nervous stomach.
Click, we’re in the park.
Click, we’re dancing in the kitchen.
Click, we’re anywhere but here.
Nerves come back with a vengeance at the sight of The Marmotte’s sign. It’s, literally, now or never, and every step closer to our home away from home makes my hands sweat.
Click, we’re sprinting through the wildflowers.
Click, we’re dancing in the club.
Click, she’s drawing a heart on my arm.
My steps chase the images of us—of the promising future we would have had in different circumstances. As our footsteps stop outside of The Marmotte’s door, I lean into her warmth. I’m the window, she’s the sun—remember?
“Dean?” she asks, blinking three times.
Haven’t quite figured out why she always does things in threes. Wish I had the time to.
“One stop.”
Confused on the street, she stares at me as I wink and climb the steps. As confident as ever, I tug on the door. Except, it doesn’t budge.
“They’re closed for the holiday, Dean. Let’s just go to the party.”
Pull again, harder this time, and nothing.
My phone dings, undoubtedly a text from Matt or Hudson apologizing for the hiccup, but checking my phone might give me away. We discussed the details for months, there was very little room for misinterpretation.
Alright, shake it off. Can’t let her see me sweat. Tonight has to be perfect.
Before I get too stressed, the lock turns. It’s a shame we lent the Polaroid camera to Marlowe, because the look on Hallee’s face is priceless.
“What’s going on?” she nervously asks.
Surprises aren’t her cup of tea, but this is my final grand gesture to remind her of how much she means to me, and how much my life has been changed because of her.
“I called in a few favors from Lea. Apparently no one else has taken the time to learn her name this year. Even the smallest moments matter. You have taught me that.”
There’s this long pause, like we’re suspended in time. Like if we don’t move, life won’t change, but if I linger any longer she’ll cry. Reaching out my hand, I bow. “Our personal infinity awaits, milady.”
Milady, seriously? Since when do I talk like an 1800s prince when I’m nervous? Luckily, she giggles and gives me my favorite expression—eyes nearly shut because her nose scrunches up, her cheeks raised high on her face. There aren’t enough hours left for me to paint it into my brain.
Her hand comes home to mine as I help her up the stairs. The Marmotte’s bell dings and, for the first time, she doesn’t startle. Will she next year?
The warm air brushes over our faces. This place has always comforted us from the cold.
Taking her coat, I hang it on one of the pegs. She won’t want to be wearing it once she walks in. It’s one of the little things I have the luxury of knowing about her as her best friend and lover. Pretty rare to have both, don’t you think? I think so. Makes us extraordinary. Our memories have built us a castle that will withstand the test of time. It has to.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Hallee gasps, covering her face immediately at the sight of the room.
I rush to settle her shaky shoulders and her forehead falls on my chest, in love and in defeat. For a few moments, I hold her as her authentic self. Lord knows we’ve worked so hard to get to the place where she believes she matters. I wouldn’t dare trample over that now.
My gleaming eyes glance around to keep from tearing up. Hudson’s staring back at me, his face a bit broken. His eyes are reflection pools, waiting to overflow.
“ Wow ,” I mouth.
Lifting his hands, he gestures, I don’t know.
Of course he knows, but I sure don’t. I have absolutely zero idea the hoops our friends jumped through for us to ensure we have this last perfect evening. It’s beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined.
It’s whimsical, it’s magical, and it’s everything happy. They’ve built a time capsule of our every emotion—of everything I love about my girl.
It is the best of us, without the looming storm cloud of worry. Together, they’ve transformed our place into a safe haven where only beautiful things exist. A world where there is no pain, anxiety, or loss. Where even the minor details are remembered. Where beautiful light shines, and sunflowers are returned home to their sun.
They’ve built a momentary wonderland where forever exists and dreams really do come true.
Hallee
The candlelight grabbed my attention first. The whole room looked yellow, as if it was on fire, but then I saw them.
The sunflowers.
Dean crashed into me before I could fall, holding me up because this life isn’t real. If I don’t move, we don’t exist. If we don’t exist, then we can’t go away. We can stay here forever and cease to exist together, right? Please, tell me I’m right.
He’s done it.
He has completed the impossible task of slowing me down—of anchoring me to this moment. My restless hunger for hurry has been curbed, and even my mind has finally halted on its endless spiral to nowhere. Safe in his arms, I squeeze him tightly and breathe in his scent. After all this time, it has remained the unfailing antidote for my anxiety.
Our place. It’s shining in the moonlight for us.
Candles line the edges of an aisle leading to our table. Somewhere along the course of the year, the middle went from the scariest to the best place to be. The middle of the room, the middle of the bed, the middle in the group of our friends. Who would’ve thought?
The rest of the tables are gone, replaced by an endless sea of yellow. He turned our sanctuary into a sunflower field for me.
A click comes from the corner of the room, and a few chuckles respond to my small jump. I know those chuckles . . .
Marlowe and Avery.
There they are, waving at me from the corner with Hudson and Matt. Their tuxedos of confidence are paired with their infamous devilish grins. Please, let me remember those grins.
“I had to recruit backup, but—” Dean whispers, pausing when my eyes catch his. “Every sunflower within a seventy-five mile radius has officially been returned home to its sun.”
This has to be a joke. He can’t be serious. My open jaw begs for the punchline, but why is he just staring at me?
He’s actually serious?
“Dean,” I breathe, unsure if he can even hear it. He’s so sweet, and this life is so great, and this life is about to change.
Hudson whistles from the corner, and as Marlowe pushes play on the music, Dean lifts his arm for me to spin under like a princess at a ball.
Chill bumps cover my arms as lyrics of first looks, dark rooms, and time moving way too fast fill our place. The song Marlowe and Avery originally used to tease me, now a song to celebrate us. Dean’s presence washes away all of my insecurities. There are no clouds in my sky when he’s with me. Laying his hand on my lower back, he draws me in for a dance.
“Welcome to our underground wedding, Sunshine.”
Click.
Marlowe captures my shock.
I can’t believe he actually did it.
We are our very own secret society of sunflowers, defying the government in the most pure way—in pursuit of light and love. The realest and truest form of it. To have and to hold for whatever eternity is to come. This is our very own little infinity.
“But—it won’t be recorded. It won’t matter aft—”
“It matters.” Dean’s strong voice cuts through my doubt. “It matters. It’s never foolish to do things that make you happy, regardless of if it’s valued by others. You asked earlier this year if there were many ways to matter. My answer is yes, and this— us— matters. We matter. Separately and together we are great, but let it be together. Please, let it be together.”
His eyes hold my heart while it splinters at the desperation lining his face.
“Dean, I—” can’t breathe as he drops to one knee.
“Marry me, Hallee. Let me love you with reckless abandon. Be my wife.”
Wife.
The word replays in my mind, searching for a memory associated with it. All I can recall is our conversation about the possibility of this in a different life. Never has he gone this far.
I’ve never married him.
“How could I ever say no to those eyes?”
Cheers erupt from our friends, fading to the background as he sweeps me off my feet in a passionate kiss. Could be seconds, could be minutes, before Matt clears his throat. We did just agree to marry each other. Now is probably the time to do it, because well, tick-tock.
Hopping over to us, Hudson sifts through the sunflower field.
“Congratulations.” His voice cracks, absent of its usual hint of humor as he hugs me. A tear falls from his face as he pulls away.
“Hallee, there’s no good way to ask this, but would you allow me the honor of walking you down the aisle?”
Gesturing to the candlelit walkway, he flinches at my wavering breath.
“I totally don’t have to! No hard feelings at all. We just thought that after everything we’ve been through, maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard nerves in his voice. He’s completely unaware that my tears are an outpouring of gratitude for his offer. Matt would’ve been wonderful too, but Hudson, the chronically unserious friend, wanting to escort me doubles the impact of the intention.
“I would love that,” I blubber between sobs.
“Then if you would come with me, milady.”
“Seriously, milady?” I accidentally laugh in his face. We really have impacted each other, even down to our shared vocabulary.
“I’ll see you up there,” Dean whispers, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead and skipping away.
“Pulse check. You nervous?” Hudson asks, leading me back to the claustrophobic entrance of The Marmotte.
“I’m always nervous.”
“Excited?”
Yes.
Can’t say it though, or I’ll cry. He knows it, too. Reaches out and gently brushes my hand before pinching the same pressure point that Dean does, in between my pinky and ring finger.
“How did you know that calms me down?”
“Lucky guess.”
“You’re the closest I’ll ever get to having a brother,” I admit.
Do I have one out there?
Dean’s right. There are many ways to matter, and I’m not sure that any single way is greater than the other. My soul craves friendship as much as it longs for a deeply romantic love. My heart thrives on the days when I feel so carefree I could almost float away, but I wouldn’t know the value of those days without the ones where anxiety paralyzes me. The days where I feel trapped in a shrinking box of my own thoughts matter just as much as tonight does, because without the darkness I would never appreciate the light.
Maybe the importance of something is not about being ranked on a vertical scale where one thing comes out victorious. Maybe it’s a horizontal spectrum for us to travel across over time, constantly reassessing and redefining what we need in that current moment. Life is a cluster of significance, with the little moments constantly shaping us into different versions of ourselves.
As a guitar melody plays over the speakers, Hudson glances down at me.
“Love ya, sis.”
“Love you too.”
“Shall we?”
Squeezing his arm three times, I reply, “Don’t let me fall.”
Too bad, I already have.