Chapter lxv
lxv
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS BEFORE YOUR BOOK LAUNCHED were so packed with the end of school and beginning of camp and working on the pilot for my new show that I’d fall into bed each night exhausted, but not exhausted enough not to think about Dax … Would the time ever be right? Would he take me back? Would I miss my chance? I would fall asleep thinking about him, thinking about you, thinking about Darren … and then all of a sudden it was July 2 and your book launched with a beautiful review in The New York Times . And then it was July 5 and I got a call from Joseph asking if I wanted to come see the show the morning before the opening. But I demurred—I wanted the excitement of the opening night, the drama of the filled room, hearing the chatter, listening in on the comments.
I didn’t have the kids the night of the opening, but I picked them up from Darren’s so we could all go to- gether. Liam had on jeans and a button-down, but Sammy had dressed up in a suit.
“He’s a little excited about being in the show,” Liam said, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, not teasing him or rolling his eyes. It was amazing how much Liam had grown up these past months. I was so proud of him, so proud of the man he was becoming. I made a mental note to make sure I told him that.
Just as we were about to head out, Darren opened his front door. “Lucy?” he said. I turned. “Just wanted to wish you luck tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said, touched by the gesture. I could feel some tension leaving my kids’ bodies, too.
When we got to the gallery, Eva was already there with what Violet referred to as her “manfriend.”
“You can’t call anyone Eva is with a boy,” she whispered, making me laugh.
Bashir was there, too, and Eric and his wife and daughter, and Kate and her family, and Julia and hers. My mom and dad were en route, along with Jay and Vanessa and their triplets. I was so touched that everyone was coming to support me, to honor you.
The then-and-now photographs were hung in pairs, with the titles of both images and the stories behind them running underneath them, tying them together.
It was amazing to see how the places you’d photographed changed. How the people you’d photographed had grown in the past decade-plus.
Violet and Liam went to talk to Kate’s girls, and Sammy and I walked around the corner to the space where the photographs of me had been in the original show. And there I was again. Me, asleep on my couch with a computer at twenty-four, and then me, with my son sleeping on me on a couch at forty-four. Joseph had said I could write the caption, and I had asked Sam if he wanted to. He’d said yes, so underneath both photos it said:
In Dreams, Inspiration —Gabriel Samson, 2004
In Dreams, Healing —Bashir Hassan, 2024
Every night, my mom wishes me “sweet dreams.” My dreams aren’t always sweet, but they are always magical. They let me create worlds that I can paint later. And I know her dreams let her create worlds that she puts on TV. If you’re reading this, I have a question for you: What do your dreams let you do?
—Samuel Maxwell, age 9
“We look good,” Sammy said, clearly giddy.
“We do,” I said, ruffling his blond curls.
I heard someone clear their throat behind us, and I turned.
“Dax!” I gasped. I’d never seen him in a suit before and couldn’t believe how distinguished it made him look. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to follow the contours of his suit jacket from his broad shoulders to where his body narrowed at his waist.
“Can I have apple juice?” Sammy said, pointing toward a makeshift bar. “It’s over there.”
“Sure,” I told him, “go ahead.”
He walked away and Dax said, “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
I felt myself soften in his presence. I was so happy to see him, to be near him.
“How did you know when it was happening?” I asked. He and I hadn’t talked much about your show once I was home from Lampedusa. It had felt private, somehow.
He laughed. “I actually got two invitations,” he said.
“Two?” I asked. “From whom?”
I couldn’t imagine who would have sent them to him.
“One from your neighbor Eva,” he said, “who called the NYU ER looking for me.”
I smiled. “Sounds like Eva. Who was the second from?”
“Violet,” he said. “She sent me the loveliest email. Thanking me for coming to help her and Ji-ho, apologizing for how she acted when we met, and telling me that she really hoped I would come tonight and convince you to take me back. She said you’d been waiting for love for a long time, and she thought you could find it with me— and that she and her brothers didn’t want to be the reason it didn’t happen.”
I could feel my eyes overflowing with tears and used my sleeve to blot them away so my mascara wouldn’t run.
“Do you think she’s right?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “That you and I can find love together?”
I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around him, savoring the warmth of his body, how solid he felt in my arms. “I do,” I said. “I already have.”
The look of joy on his face is one I’ll always remember. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice overcome with emotion. “Me too.” He kissed me on the forehead, then looked up at a photograph across the room. I followed his eyes and saw that he was looking at an image of you, Gabe, from a decade before. And then at a camera lying, abandoned, on a grassy field.
“What would your Gabriel think?” Dax said, clearing his throat. “Of you and me, together.”
I contemplated it for a moment and then said, “He always looked for beauty and light and love in the world. I think he’d be happy that I found all of that with you.”
And you would, right, Gabe?
I’m pretty sure you would.