Chapter 23
Graduation Eve—Albion College
“She’s the girl you bought the card holder for? You never said she was a lawyer!”
Daniel stood with Bianca on the edge of East Capitol Park, in the shadow of the state capitol. It seemed fitting that the Albany College of Law had their graduation here. And on the makeshift stage only feet from the capitol steps right now, Valerie Vance was receiving her diploma.
Daniel clapped for her, even though the audience had been instructed not to cheer for individual graduates but to wait until the end of the ceremony. And even from a couple of hundred feet away, she heard, and saw him, and smiled.
“Technically, I don’t think she’s a lawyer until she passes the bar exam. But, yeah. That’s her.”
“Are we staying for the whole thing?” It shouldn’t be much longer.
They were calling people up alphabetically, how many graduates could there be left?
But it would be awkward to go up to her afterwards with her family there, wouldn’t it?
How would he even introduce himself? “Hi, I’m Valerie’s computer guru and proofreader and boyfriend for about six weeks earlier this year? ”
He’d gotten to see her graduate, and she’d seen him. That was good enough. “No, let’s go. My parents are probably getting restless.” He and Bianca were already at the very back of the crowd; it was easy to slip away without causing any commotion.
A little later, on the taxi ride back to the Albion campus, Bianca turned to him and said, “Someday you’re going to meet a girl where the timing is right, and everything is right. And she’s going to be the luckiest girl on Earth.”
“What are you talking about, Bee?”
“You dated one girl for a few weeks, and after you break up, you still go to her graduation—and you didn’t even know if she’d see you there.
You dated another girl for six months, and two years after you break up, you buy her a $700 gift just so she’ll remember you.
I can’t even imagine what you’ll do for the right girl when she comes along. ”
Daniel sighed. He didn’t say the words that came immediately to mind, but he didn’t have to.
Bianca said them for him. “I know. You think you already did meet the right girl, and you’ll never have anything like what you had with Nora.
” She put her arm around him. “Danny, I hope to God you’re wrong.
Because if anyone deserves for things to be right, it’s you. ”
Nora , later that day
Nora sat on her bed, staring at the little velvet box. She had been going back and forth on when to give it to Daniel. He was probably with his family right now—his parents must be here for his graduation—but he’d be in his dorm room tonight. The last night he’d ever be on this campus.
But this gift shouldn’t be opened in shadows, in a mostly packed up room.
It really ought to be given in the daylight, under the open sky, with the sun shining brightly on it—on them .
She knew for sure where he’d be tomorrow at eleven o’clock.
And he’d be there early, because he always arrived early for anything important.
She’d learned that about him the first week they were together, and she was sure he hadn’t changed.
Tomorrow was better. She’d find him on the quad, waiting for everyone to start lining up for the ceremony, and she’d give him the necklace and—if she could hold her nerve—make her promise. And ask for one in return.
Daniel , around nine o’clock at night
He hadn’t wanted to lie to his parents—and he’d really wanted the Raspberry-Chocolate Torte—but Daniel had complained that he was too full as an excuse to finish dinner and get back to the dorm.
His mother had asked, “Since when do you say no to dessert, Daniel?”
“Since never, Mom. But I have to fit into my graduation robes tomorrow.”
Everyone had accepted that—well, except Bianca; she knew why he was really cutting the evening short, and she winked at him when nobody else was looking. And now here he was back in his room, holding the gift in his hands. It felt heavy, as though it was weighed down by all his memories.
He hadn’t spoken to Nora in two years, almost to the day. What would he say to her when she opened her door?
Maybe he should have thought more about that before spending $700 on a gift he had no idea how she’d react to.
No. It didn’t matter how she reacted. He hadn’t bought it for that. He bought it because she deserved something beautiful—because she’d given him something beautiful. And maybe it was selfish, but he needed her to know: he still loved her.
And also for her to know that even if they never saw each other again, if they never got closer than a thousand miles to each other after tonight, he’d always be rooting for her.
The night wasn’t getting any younger. If he was going to do it, now was the time.
Nora , fifteen minutes later
She might as well go to bed early. She’d packed up all her books, so there wasn’t anything to read; most of her friends were already gone for the semester, so there wasn’t anyone to talk to; and going downstairs and sitting on the filthy old sofa to watch late-night reruns by herself seemed pathetic.
She was about to get undressed when there was a knock at the door. Who would be coming to see her now?
She wondered for a moment if she should just ignore it, and call campus security if they kept knocking. But that was paranoid thinking. Silly thinking.
She went over, opened the door.
It was him .
She didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate. It was all instinct, as though the last two years hadn’t happened.
She grabbed Daniel, pulled herself to him and kissed him.
Daniel , thirty seconds later
She’d kissed him, he’d kissed her back, and now they were somehow sitting on her bed, breathless. Their faces were only inches apart, and her arms were still wrapped tightly around him. He held her with one hand, the other awkwardly dangling behind her back clutching her gift.
He needed a second to catch his breath before he could speak. “Nora. I—I needed to see you tonight. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other—I’ve got a job. In Chicago. I start week after next. But I wanted to—I have something for you.”
It was hardly eloquent, but she seemed to follow it well enough. “You have something?”
He pulled back from her far enough that he could show her the little box.
“I know we’re not together. I know we’ll be a thousand miles apart.
Maybe two thousand, I don’t know. I know it won’t work—we both already knew that.
But I want you to remember me. To remember us.
I want you to know, wherever you are, I’ll always be hoping for the best for you. ”
He handed it to her. She turned it over, examining it from every angle. Then she noticed the Mont Blanc label on the box, and she smiled—the smile he had never forgotten. “You gave me a pen? Does that make me John Cusack in this scenario?”
He laughed. “Believe it or not, I never thought of that. And I have seen Say Anything . Twice, actually.” How was this possible? Joking with her, laughing with her, just being with her as though they’d never broken up, as though the last two years hadn’t happened at all.
She opened the box, and gasped when she saw the pen. “Oh, my God, Daniel! That’s real gold. And—you had it engraved, too?”
She held it up to him, read the words aloud:
To N with love - D
He shrugged. “It was the best I could do with less than 20 characters.”
She kissed him again, and when she finally pulled back, she said, almost whispering, “It’s the best thing anybody could ever do, Daniel.”
Nora , a minute later
The shock of the gift had worn off. But the shock of his presence hadn’t.
Daniel was here.
Here, with her!
Alone with her.
“How did this happen? How are we here now?” he asked as though he couldn’t believe it.
“You came over here, Daniel,” she said. “If you don’t know, nobody does.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
She knew exactly what he meant. But joking was safer than crying over everything they’d lost—everything they’d thrown away—two years ago.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “I guess I wasn’t very funny just now, was I?”
He didn’t answer, but she knew what his silence meant. She’d always known—almost always—when he agreed with something self-deprecating she said but didn’t want to say so aloud. That was one of the many things she’d loved about him.
Still loved. Present tense.
Future tense, too.
“Nora,” he said, reaching over and gently taking the pen from her hands, then squeezing them.
“I don’t know if anything’s really changed.
I’m going to be in Chicago, and you’ll still be here next year, and then—who knows?
You could be anywhere. You can write your own ticket.
You’ll have your pick of jobs. But we’ll be far apart.
And all the stuff I was afraid of, all the things I didn’t understand back then… they’re still there.”
He was right. Every word of it.
“I hate this,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him. “Why can’t we be smarter? Or braver? Or more—whatever the hell it is we’re supposed to be?”
There were tears in his pretty— so pretty—eyes.
“I wish I knew,” he said. “God, I hate this as much as you. But we—” His voice broke. He steadied it. “We survived. I’m graduating. I’ve got a great job. You’re going to be editor of the paper next year. You’re a star. Let’s just—let’s never forget each other.”
He didn’t believe it. She hadn’t heard his voice in two years, but she still knew how it quavered when he was trying so damn hard to convince himself of something. And she knew—if she tried to answer—he’d hear the same tremble in hers.
“I’m never going to forget, Daniel.”
That, at least, she could guarantee.
Daniel , a moment later
Did he dare say it?
Two years ago, she’d said it.
This moment was the same.
Or maybe it was even more. He couldn’t say more what —just more.
If he knew anything at all in this world, he knew she felt the same way he did right now.
“Nora, if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other, really the last time,” his voice caught and he blinked away a tear, “I want to—I want one more memory. One more perfect memory with you.”
She didn’t blink, didn’t turn away.
Instead, she leaned in, until her lips were only an inch away from his. “You’re asking me to make love with you,” she said softly. “One more time. One last time. Just so I’m clear.”
He nodded ever so slightly, leaned in that last inch and kissed her. Gently at first, barely brushing against her, and then more fully. She kissed him back without hesitation.
When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes, but there was also a smile— his smile, the one she only ever gave to him.
“Okay, that was pretty clear. So I guess I should be clear, too. I want that, too, Daniel. I want one more perfect memory. I want to make love with you. Right here and right now.”
And then neither of them needed any more words.
Nora , around midnight
They’d made their memory.
Afterwards, they lay together in her bed, not speaking, not really doing anything except holding each other.
“Daniel, I don’t want you to go. Not now. Not like I did the last time.”
He caressed her cheek and kissed her gently. “I wasn’t planning to. I know— I know this has to end. But not yet.”
Not yet.
They were both silent a while longer. It was so peaceful.
This was how it had always felt afterwards with him.
And during the act—it felt the same as it always had with him, too. As though no time at all had passed.
She reached over, put her hand on his chest. “The body always remembers,” she whispered.
Like—what did athletes call it? Muscle memory.
“And the heart never forgets.”
How could it?
He kissed her again, just for a moment. “Is that from a poem or something?”
She kissed him back. “No. It just came to me. It’s us. How we’ll always be, no matter where we go after tomorrow. Even if we never see each other again.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper again, her hand still on his heart. “I’ll always remember. You’ll never forget.”
He didn’t say anything. But his eyes—and another kiss—answered for him.
Daniel , the next morning
He opened his eyes, and there she was, watching him. Smiling.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
There was no disorientation, no confusion. Daniel knew where he was. Exactly where he should be. “Good morning, Nora.”
He leaned in to kiss her, but she was too quick, putting a finger to his lips. “Not now. We took care of that last night. Now you have to get dressed and go back to your room.”
What? She was kicking him out after last night? After everything ?
Then he saw the clock on the desk behind her. Of course she was kicking him out. She knew what today was just as well as he did.
“You’ve got to finish packing up, shower and get dressed—and do it all in time to be on the quad a half hour before you’re supposed to be there.”
He laughed. “Am I that predictable?”
“It’s one of the things I fell in love with,” she said. “Now, get your clothes on. I’m not going to be responsible for you being late to your graduation, Daniel Joseph Keller.”
She used his full name, exactly how his mother did when she was thoroughly annoyed with him—and almost managed to keep a straight face. But not quite.
“You nearly got the tone right. You need to put a little more exasperation into it.”
Now she was laughing uncontrollably. This was as good a moment as any to get out of bed and start dressing.
A minute later, he was done, and she’d gotten herself under control. She stood up, took his hands in hers. “Thank you. For last night. For coming over. For the pen. For never forgetting. For always—always being you. My Daniel.”
She leaned in, kissed him. He kissed her back.
“Now go.”
He started to answer her—even though he had no idea what he could possibly say. But again she pressed a finger to his lips. “Just go. Maybe—never mind. Just… maybe.”
Maybe she’d be at the ceremony?
Maybe that would be the real, true, for-good-this-time goodbye?
He didn’t think there was any maybe about it.