Epilogue
ISAK
Two years after graduation
“One, two, three.” I don’t tell Lachlan to smile, but he does so anyway, and it’s genuine. The one that reaches his eyes and seems to radiate from his entire body. I hold out my phone. “Check it out!”
He’s standing at an endcap in an independent bookstore here in Santa Barbara, the entire display full of his poetry collection. “Congrats, babe!” I hug him.
Against the odds, Lachlan has already sold a thousand copies of his poetry book. He began sharing his words online soon after we started college, and they caught on. People saw what he was doing and liked how honest he was.
His poems speak of his experiences, and in their rawness and vulnerability they show how brave he is.
The bookstore has a small area set up with a signing table and a couple of rows of chairs. Lachlan sits down behind the table and gives the dozen or so people waiting a tentative smile.
An assistant sends them up one by one so he can autograph his book for them and talk with them for a moment.
The first is a younger woman with tears in her eyes.
“Your words really spoke to me,” she says quietly.
“Thank you for writing so honestly about your mom’s substance abuse journey and how it affected you. ”
Lach nods and scribbles his name. “You’re welcome.”
“By telling your truth, you make me feel like I’m not alone.”
“I’m glad.” They chat a little longer, he poses for a photo, and then the next person comes up.
This reader tells Lachlan how he used to cut himself, and how the fact that Lachlan wrote such a raw poem about cutting and shared it with the world made him feel seen. And also helped him stop.
That brings tears to both my eyes and Lachlan’s.
It keeps going like this. Person after person telling Lachlan how his words have improved their lives.
“You’re amazing,” I whisper when we’re done.
“That was intense,” he admits as we walk out to my truck.
I raise an eyebrow. “Want to go for a walk on the beach?”
“Absolutely.”
Five years after graduation
“Lach?” I call as I step into the kitchen from the garage.
“Yeah, baby. I’m in the study.”
Awesome. I scoot in there and find my boyfriend at his computer desk, typing away. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re good. I was pretty much done for the day,” he says, saving his work. Then he turns and smiles at me. Lachlan’s hair is shorter these days, but it’s still a golden halo. But his smile … that never changes. It’s the kind of megawatt amplifier that makes the entire town light up.
“You look happy,” he says, studying my face. “What’s up?” His expression morphs into one of pure delight. “No! Yes? What happened?”
“I got the part,” I whisper.
Suddenly, I’m pressed against the wall by the sexiest man I know. He kisses me hard, and I give as good as I’m getting.
I laugh against his lips. “Wanna hear more?”
He pulls back, playing with my shirt. “Yes, absolutely.” He nods repeatedly, making me laugh again.
There is nothing better than Lachlan’s joy.
We sit down on the wooden floor, ending up kind of tangled together, legs crossing, arms around each other, as I tell him about the major role I scored. “And it’s going to be here in town, so I won’t have to travel.”
“That’s the best,” he groans. “I can’t wait to watch you every night.”
“Babe, you don’t have to go every night.”
“Sure I do. I have to go and boo every time you kiss someone else.”
I laugh. “Stage kiss.”
“I have good memories of stage kisses with you.”
“Yeah, these ones won’t be like that.” I look back at the computer. “What were you working on?”
“A poem that’s maybe turning into lyrics for a song. I can’t get this idea out of my head, so I decided to write it down and see what happens.”
“Awesome. You’re so talented.”
We kiss a while longer before getting up. I pull him into the kitchen. “What do you want to do for dinner?”
“Eat you.”
“Ha. No, really.”
“I wasn’t kidding, Isak. But if you need food so you don’t waste away, we can always be like your mom and make salad and homemade mac and cheese.”
“Ever the romantic,” I tease.
Ten years after graduation
“Babe?” Lachlan says.
“Yeah?”
“Come on. It’s time.”
I smile. I slide on my flip-flops and follow my husband out the door.
We live a block from the beach in Santa Barbara.
I got lucky with a play, and then Lachlan’s latest book took off, and now we can afford a house we love.
It’s not the biggest or the most of anything, but it’s gorgeous and in the perfect location, and we have amazing neighbors. So it’s just right for us.
I don’t know why I like the beach so much better in the evening. It’s cooler, I guess, and there are fewer people. I like the silver colors of the water.
My husband is a romantic, so we always go to the beach at sunset. At least, as often as we can.
“When we were in high school, this is what I dreamed about,” I say. “Walking with my partner on the beach at night.”
“And is it everything you hoped for?”
Seagulls cry overhead. The waves break on the shore, sending cold water dancing over our toes.
The sand is firm and compact down where it’s wet, and farther up it gives us a workout.
In some places the beach is almost pristine, and in others, it’s littered with sticks and bits of driftwood.
It smells salty. The dark brown seaweed bulbs are rubbery under our feet.
I see a tiny crab burrowing in the wet sand. When I was little, I used to try to catch them.
“Yeah,” I say, looking into his gorgeous, kind eyes. “It’s exactly what I hoped for.”
Thanks for reading!