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Before I can head back in, Ben walks outside.
“Are you leaving?” I ask. Though I’m sad that Liam has left, I don’t want this to be the last time I see Ben healthy. I’m
not ready to tell this version of him goodbye either.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I was, yeah.” He glances behind him, then back at me. “Feel
like taking a walk?” He raises his hands. “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”
“Glad we cleared that up.” My heart thumps wildly. I always wanted to take a trip with Ben to New York, but then he got sick
and we couldn’t. And now I realize that Liam is so entangled in this city, in all my favorite spots, in why I loved Brooklyn,
that coming here would have been a stark reminder of a life not lived.
Ben falls easily into step beside me, and we walk and talk. I tell him everything I’ve ever wanted to tell him, pointing out
my most sacred spots. We stop for a fat ice cream sundae, then walk along the water and down random streets. I know people
at the gallery will be looking for me, but I don’t care. Tonight it all ends anyway, and I want to hang on to this version
of Ben as long as I possibly can.
Ben stops outside a playground and motions me inside. We slip onto the cold swings and push gently back and forth. The squeak of the chains fills the silence.
“So how long have you two been together?”
It’s the first time he’s brought up Liam. “Ten years.”
He whistles. “Wow. Serious.”
I nod. “It is.”
“I was afraid of that,” he says. “He seems like a great guy.” In true Ben fashion, he’s respectful.
I nod. “He is.” I twist toward him on the swings. “Tell me about your life going forward,” I say. “How you want to live it.
Do you want to stay nomadic, or do you want to settle down?”
He’s silent for a while, pushing off the rubber ground for a few beats before he speaks. “Well, cancer taught me a lot about
myself, but mostly that I want to have a family someday. I love traveling, don’t get me wrong, but now I want roots. A partner.
Kids. A home.”
He looks at me as he says the word home , and a montage of our life together plays back on a loop. I want to tell him everything: how many adventures we’ve had, how
much of a home we’ve created in and for each other in just a few short years. “You should have that,” I finally say. “You
deserve it after everything you’ve been through.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
I stare at the sky, smudged free of stars from all of the bright streetlights. “I want a home too,” I say. “A family.” As
I say the words, I realize it’s true. Ben and I haven’t talked about kids since before he got sick, but the thought has rippled
through my mind more than once.
We rock silently until it’s late, and I tell him I need to get back to the gallery and help clean up. I know I’m going to get a mouthful from Rita about my disappearing act, but I know she no longer needs me. Maybe she never did. Maybe it’s always been the other way around.
When we get to the gallery doors, the crowd has thinned, though I can still hear music thumping inside. Ben stops me by lightly
touching my arm. That simple touch sends heat pulsing through my entire body.
“Well.” His fingers travel down my arm before he takes my hand. Electricity charges between us. “It was really nice meeting
you, Harper.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. After a few moments, I find my voice. “It was really nice
meeting you too, Ben.”
He moves in until he is just inches away. My body charges to life again, but he bypasses my mouth and kisses me softly on
the cheek. “If we’re meant to find each other again, we will,” he whispers in my ear. My body erupts into goose bumps as he
steps back and flings his arms wide. “I’ve got all the time in the world.” He lifts a hand in a wave, turns, and walks away,
just as Liam did hours before.
I’ve got all the time in the world.
Those words press into the most vulnerable places. I almost run after him, almost tell him he doesn’t have all the time in
the world, that in fact we have such little time left. I don’t know why I’m here instead of there, or what it means. Is it
about Liam, or is it about Ben? Is this my ultimate lesson? That I am always destined to find Ben in every life?
As I approach the gallery doors and prepare to walk back inside, I pause. Maybe none of this is about who I choose or why.
Maybe it’s about me . Maybe it’s about learning to be okay on my own, just as Ben has been saying all along.
Not picking a man. Not basing my decisions or my life on a partner.
My head spinning with what I’m possibly here to learn, I take a step inside. The gallery is a mess, with empty dishes, crumpled, paint-splattered tarps, and trashed tables. People file out, and I force a smile and say good night. After I help clean up, Rita walks me to the door. She is exhausted but happy, and there is a light in her eyes, a reclamation of sorts.
“Well, you did it, my dear,” she says, squeezing my arm. “You really did it.”
“ We did it,” I say. “But now you will.” I give her a hug and take a step back to stare at the gallery. “Take care of her.” I
wink.
“Don’t be a stranger, Harper.”
On my way home, I replay the entire night. Liam leaving and Ben showing up. That has to mean something. I check the time and
quicken my pace. I have to have the ritual completed before midnight, and my stomach churns just thinking of it.
When I get to the loft, it’s dark. I let myself inside quietly, so as not to disturb Liam, using my phone light to navigate.
Quickly I realize that he’s not on the couch or in bed. “Liam?” I call. I check my phone to find a text he left a while ago.
Sorry, beautiful. I got caught up with the bookstore owner, and we’re headed out for a quick drink. I’ll be home shortly.
I type back a reply, pour myself a glass of water, and stare at the photo on the refrigerator. It’s the one he took of the
two of us on the Manhattan Bridge, happy and lovestruck. I pluck the photo free, change into pajamas, scrub my face, and climb
into bed. I caress the photograph, remembering when things were easy. Finally, I toss it aside and close my eyes as my thoughts
swirl and my heart breaks.
Right on time, my phone buzzes. I answer it. Wren’s face pops onto FaceTime, just as it did a month ago.
“You ready?”
I nod, but I’m not sure. I want to go home, but part of me wants to stay. I want to tell her that Ben found me here, that
I fell for Liam all over again, that I don’t want to leave if it means Ben can stay healthy. Though I want to ask if that’s
an option, the deeper part of me simply wants both worlds... but I know I can’t.
She instructs me to get a candle and then write down a new sentence: I wish for the new to return to old but still have all that I behold. I’m worried that this sentence is much too vague, that I might wake up in another dimension, but as a zebra or Republican.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “In order for the spell to work, you had to learn something, and I have no way of knowing if you did.”
What have I learned? That I don’t have to work so hard to prove myself? That I am allowed to change my mind? That career isn’t
everything? That I would do anything for my husband? That maybe you can love two people at the same time? That I’ve kept walls
up, and when they come down anything is possible? My eyes are already growing heavy as she guides me through the ritual. I
slow my breathing, tune into my body, and then I say the loaded sentence three times. “I wish for the new to return to old
but still have all that I behold. I wish for the new to return to old but still have all that I behold. I wish for the new
to return to old but still have all that I behold.”
To my relief, the tingles come just as they did the first time, and I let that sensation spill over me as I complete the final
sentence. “And so it is, and it is so.”
“Good luck, Harper.” Wren ends the call, and I blow out the candle, pull the covers up to my chin, and wait for sleep to come
and take me home.