Epilogue
“We have an announcement to make. We’re getting married!”
After a moment of shock, I shriek and throw my arms around Kwan.
It’s a glorious sunset on our roof tonight. The clouds contain those painterly sherbet shades, pinks and oranges dancing across the New York City skyline. The July mugginess hasn’t set in yet, so it’s still that perfect level of warm without hot. And now that Eli’s had a year to really build out his rooftop dreams, I have to admit that there are very few places I’d rather be on a night in the city.
His planters are in full bloom, his evergreens overtaken by colors, and finally today the passion fruit flowers started blossoming. I was a little worried he might get emotional about it after how long he’s built it up, but the only over-the-top thing he did was insist on carrying Paws and Whiskers upstairs because he thought they’d appreciate seeing them again, since his grandmother must’ve shown the original flowers to them. I didn’t want to point out that it’s fairly impossible to think these cats were alive the last time she’d had flowers up here, so I dutifully carried one cat while George begrudgingly walked behind us.
I’ve spent most of tonight trying to stop Eli from burning everything on the grill to a crisp. I distracted him with his favorite Strongbow cider, which he was completely delighted to find could be purchased outside of the UK.
And it’s mostly been pretty light and convivial. Dane, Tom, and Meryl enthusiastically agreed to join our Fourth of July barbecue and bring other dishes so we wouldn’t just be stuck with Eli’s grilled meats. (“Although,” Meryl said to me when I invited her, “I’d probably agree to anything that man asked me for.” She wiggled her eyebrows in a way I’m not sure I wanted to see.) Every other neighbor we mentioned it to promptly said yes as well, so we’ve got Aretha’s cookies, Hearn’s eclectic craft beer selection, and a few other bottles of wine from the residents of the second and fourth floors.
I was surprised that Kwan and Gladys were late. In recent months it was heartwarming to see how much time they’d been spending together. What started as Kwan’s plant project to supplement Eli’s quickly became an obvious ploy to hang out with Gladys. And when Gladys started claiming a real interest in walking Lucy in the hopes of seeing if she wanted a dog, it started to be fairly clear that they both were looking for excuses to keep seeing each other. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing Kwan proudly and bashfully say “my girlfriend.”
Although apparently we’re all going to have to change that word.
“He asked me a few hours ago, and of course I said yes.” Gladys beams, looking up at Kwan like he’s the most romantic man who ever lived. “We’re thinking of eloping later in the summer, because there’s no time to waste. What’s the point at our age?”
“No more lonely hearts in this building, that’s for sure!” Meryl whoops.
Someone turns on Ray LaMontagne’s “You Are the Best Thing” and turns the volume up on the little portable speaker Dane brought.
I feel someone wrap their arms around my hips, and I turn around to see Eli.
“I was really hoping that was you.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Hearn,” he laughs with a wink. We start swaying to the music, and I loop my arms around his neck. “No more lonely hearts, eh?” he says. “Do you think Meryl meant us, too, or is it just reserved for the elderly crowd?”
I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. I want to bottle this moment, because while nothing in life is foolproof, the journey feels so much easier right now. The loneliness I felt last year, trapped up on this roof with Eli, seems like an entire world away. All those versions of myself that were sometimes at odds and contributed to that lonely feeling—daughter, friend, reader, therapist, patient, girlfriend—are becoming more honest and closely related. I can give different things to different people, but I’m working on obfuscating less. I’m learning to stop adjusting for others.
Ari would say it’s because, outside of work, I’ve stopped always trying to solve everyone else’s life and have started enjoying my own. Dane would say (and has, too many times to count) that it’s because I’m getting laid on a regular basis. But I’d probably embarrass her by pointing out a lot of it actually has to do with being supported by her. It’s not only true but it would also shut her up. Kwan and Tom would get a big portion of that friendship pie at this point too.
But if there was ever a metaphor for letting people in, of course Eli would’ve been the wordsmith to inadvertently come up with the perfect one: we’re actually moving ahead with his duplex plan. What started as his favorite joke—about playing telephone between our apartments or adding in a fireman’s pole—soon became an idea he was casually looking into. It started with a few articles about apartment combinations (“Hey, Nora, look at the photos of what these people did! That spiral staircase really doesn’t reduce the square footage almost at all!”), and eventually ended with a dinner party where a friend who was an architect pulled out a measuring tape. When I asked him if he was serious, he looked at me with shining eyes and said, “Only if you really want me to be.”
And in that moment, I knew I truly did. I’ve spent my whole life bending to fit other people, making myself smaller when someone needs me to be, or picking up their slack when they don’t want to carry it anymore. And I like being reliable. I like being a steady hand for people who live their lives a little wilder. But I want to be an equal. I want to build a spiral staircase between two identical apartments and let combining two lives double our capacity—neither person taking any more or accepting any less.
Our life isn’t perfect—I can’t control my parents, I can’t make my brother step up more, and I can’t solve everything for my clients the way I would like. Eli’s mom’s health is still a concern, and he and his dad haven’t magically resolved all their issues. And the thought of making George permanently share space with Paws and Whiskers is truly keeping me up at night.
But I’ve stopped reading the ends of my books first. I finally feel like, for the first time in my life, it’s okay to not know what the ending looks like.
So tonight I’m going to dance on my roof with all my best friends, toast to our futures, and go home with the man I love. And those sound like the best words imaginable.