Delilah
This must be what it feels like to be superhuman.
Every sense is firing at once. Even with my eyes closed, I can see each color in the rainbow. I feel the change in heat in my body as Oliver’s arms close around me. I run my fingertips along the velvet of his tunic, marking every stitch.
I am soaring through the universe, rootless, groundless, spinning.
I’m glowing, like I’ve swallowed a star.
And when I finally fall back to Earth, it’s a safe landing, because I know he’ll catch me.
“So,” Oliver whispers, brushing my hair back. “I heard it’s going to rain tomorrow.”
I expected a profession of love, or at least a hello. Not a weather report. “What?”
He grins. “I just want the first words I say to you, here, to be totally ordinary. Something I might say to you if I were going to see you tomorrow and the next day and the day after that.”
Suddenly I’m smiling. It’s what I told him when we said goodbye, but with one critical change: I am going to see him tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.
Joy bubbles inside me; it feels like champagne in my veins. “Perhaps,” I reply, parroting what Oliver once said to me, “it will be sunny on Wednesday.” And I kiss him again.
Gradually I become aware of the rest of the world: the sound of conversation picking up, the clatter of plates and forks as cake is passed around, the smell of burned wax from the birthday candles.
Oliver won’t let go of me. He glances from my tiara to the hem of my gown and smiles broadly. “Brilliant dress.”
“I thought you might like it….”
Suddenly Jules grabs my shoulder. “Um, if you lovebirds can spare a minute, there’s a queen we have to hide.”
Breaking away, I glance at my mother to make sure she’s occupied—and see her serving cake. I grab Oliver’s hand and drag him behind me as I follow Jules to the bathroom. She knocks softly, and the door opens.
Queen Maureen has turned on the faucet in the sink and is flushing the toilet. “Have you seen this, Oliver?” she asks, delighted. “Where does the water come from?”
“It worked,” I breathe. “They’re both gone.”
Jules looks away. “Yeah.”
“We must get you dressed,” Oliver says. “Remember?”
Queen Maureen nods. She too has been informed of the plan. She will dress in the spare set of scrubs Jules brought for her and then Jules will drive her home.
“My dear,” she says to me, “would you mind unlacing my stays?”
I take the scrubs from Jules and disappear into the bathroom with Queen Maureen.
She turns around and I pull at the bows on her gown, loosening it.
She steps out of the dress, and I help her pull the scrubs top on.
“Now that Oliver’s not here,” she whispers, hiking up the baggy pants and tying them at her waist, “might I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Seraphima told me of this magical place you took her. Might we go to this…mall?”
I laugh, twisting her braids into the surgical cap so that the color—darker than Jessamyn’s—is hidden. I make a mental note to buy her some hair dye. “Absolutely,” I promise. “We have all the time in the world.”
When we step outside (after a few flicks of the light switch so Maureen can experience the miracle of electricity), I find Jules sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, and Oliver missing.
I tamp down the immediate panic that swells in me.
I have to be able to let him out of my sight without freaking out every single time and assuming he’s been sucked into the story again.
Jules looks up at me. “Relax. I sent him back downstairs to say goodbye to the people who are leaving. It’s weird if the birthday boy isn’t even at his own party.
” Then she turns to Maureen, surveying her critically.
“I think you’ll pass. But we’d better get out of here quickly so we’re not tempting fate. ”
I turn to Maureen. “Can you give us a minute?” Rummaging in the folds of my princess gown, I pull out my phone and thrust it toward her. “Here,” I say. “Knock yourself out.”
I leave Maureen pushing buttons and gasping in surprise as music begins to pour out of the tiny speakers. Taking Jules’s arm, I drag her toward my room and close the door behind us.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Jules jokes. “She’ll probably hack your Facebook.”
I sit down on the bed. “You can talk to me, you know.”
Jules, in classic Jules mode, snorts. “Thanks, Dr. Phil.”
“You can be as snarky as you want,” I tell her. “I know how crappy you feel right now. I’ve been there. Twice.”
Jules jerks her chin up. “I’m fine. You just worry about Prince Charming. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I know I don’t have to worry about you. But I do. And I know you can talk to me…but you’d rather talk to someone else.” Reaching past her, I take the fairy tale from the nightstand and place it in her hands. “I believe this is yours now.”
I stand up. “I’m going to take Maureen downstairs and have her say goodbye to my mom. Preferably without ever speaking in her British accent. How about I meet you at the car?”
Jules looks at me and then traces her fingers over the lettering on the book’s cover. Then, unexpectedly, she throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispers.
As I walk out of the room, she is just cracking open the story.
I find Oliver standing guard at the front door, thanking people as they leave. Raj fist-bumps him. “Great party, bro,” Raj says, and Oliver grins.
“Glad you liked it.”
Allie and Chris are the last to go. “See you Monday, dude,” Chris says, putting his hand on the small of her back. Oliver looks up at me, shocked.
“I’ll fill you in later,” I murmur.
When it’s finally quiet, my mother walks out of the kitchen holding a dish towel. “That went well!” she says brightly. “I’m thinking we should have Thanksgiving during a full-on tornado!”
I laugh. “Thanks for your help, Mom.”
“I’d better be getting my mother back home,” Oliver says. “Thank you so much for letting us use your house, Mrs. McPhee.”
“Anytime.” My mother gives Oliver a hug first, then Queen Maureen. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Thank you,” Maureen replies, sounding only faintly British.
Just then, Jules comes running down the stairs, her cheeks pink. “Sorry,” she calls. “I’m here.” Her car keys jingle in her hand. “Ready to go, you two?”
She escorts Maureen out the door. Oliver lingers behind, his hand on my waist. “See you…tomorrow,” he says.
Just hearing that word makes me smile.
He leans down and brushes his lips over mine, the way you say goodbye to someone you know you’re going to have many more goodbyes with.
When the door closes, I turn around to find my mother shaking out a giant black trash bag. “No, Mom, I’ll take care of it. You did so much already. Just go to bed and let me clean up.”
“I’m not going to say no to that.” My mother yawns. “You think Edgar liked his party?”
“I’m pretty sure this was his best birthday ever.”
Her footsteps fade as she climbs the stairs, and I begin to sweep the debris of the party into the trash bag. I dump paper plates and cups and gather crumbs and frosting off the table with a sponge.
“Well, Delilah,” I say out loud, pretty proud of myself for pulling this off. “What can’t you do?”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of a voice behind me. Oliver stands in the doorway, watching me clean up. “You scared me to death!” I say, but I’m smiling. I can’t not smile. “Why did you come back?”
He walks toward me. “I told Jules to take Maureen home alone. It occurred to me that I had forgotten something.” He plucks the trash bag out of my hand and sets it aside.
“What?” I ask.
“You never gave me my present.” Oliver’s hands settle on my hips. “So? What did you get me?”
I wrap my arms around his neck and slowly lean toward him. “Forever,” I whisper.
Oliver dips his head, just a breath away from me. “Well, look at that,” he says, dropping a kiss onto my lips. “It fits perfectly.”