Epilogue
Oliver
“Just because you like to call yourself a New Yorker now doesn’t mean I can’t show you touristy shit sometimes,” she says, pulling me by the hand through a crowd of people.
It’s the middle of July in Manhattan, which means it is hot and smelly and disgusting. But of course, none of that bothers Elle, because she has a plan in her head, and I’m just the guy who knows that I’m going to go along with it, whether I want to or not.
The street is absolutely packed with people—some with tripods, some with selfie sticks, but all with their phones out, which is both depressing and really fucking annoying.
Elle made us leave our phones at home for this reason.
We wouldn’t be the gawkers recording this moment. We would be the observers watching it.
Again, I just work here.
She finally finds an acceptable spot on 57th and 8th, which wasn’t her ideal spot, but we couldn’t make it further East in time.
I personally don’t think the exact location makes that much of a difference, but when it comes to Elle’s plans, my opinions don’t really matter.
Which I’m fine with. I love when she takes the lead.
She calls them her main character moments.
She likes to tell me that we’re the main characters of our own stories. I tell her that I don’t care about any story that isn’t hers. But in truth, she has changed my story. For the better. In every way possible.
After quitting residency, I started working as a paramedic for the FDNY while applying to Physician Assistant programs in the Northeast. I haven’t told my father about becoming a P.A.
because I don’t want him to have anything to do with it.
We haven’t even spoken since I left my residency at Mount Sinai, but my mom has come to the city to meet Elle.
She claims that my father needs time to get past things.
I argue that he needs time to recover from the blow to his ego, that he will not have a legacy of Dr. Coles to follow him.
I’m sure we’ll find a new version of normal, I’m just not sure when, or what that will look like.
Elle would love to make that a project of her own, but I refuse to let her.
She doesn’t have to solve the world’s problems. And she’s starting to learn that.
One thing Elle has taught me is that it is okay to accept help.
She wants me to try speaking to someone about my panic and OCD again, and I think one day soon I will.
In the meantime, I have found a medication that is helping with my obsessive thoughts.
I’ve resisted it for so long, but Elle has a way of changing my perspective on things.
And I want to feel better. I want to be in control of my own mind. Not just for her, but for me.
Elle stops in the middle of a crowd of people and turns to face the street.
She’s wearing a tank top with one of her silly sayings on it.
Today’s is: “If I can’t bring my dog, I’m not coming.
” Which is very true in most instances, including this one.
I look down at Thor who is pitter-pattering his feet next to Elle.
He has no idea what is going on, but he is excited about it nonetheless.
“Ready?” Elle asks, looking up at me. Her long curls are in a ponytail that reaches down to her back, and it sways when she turns her head.
“Ready for what?”
She looks down at her watch and grins. That can’t be good. I follow her gaze to the streetlight in front of us. When it turns red, Elle throws herself on my back, wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.
“Hurry up! Run to the middle of the crosswalk!” she yells, hitting my shoulder. Thor jumps up on my leg, excited by what Elle is doing.
“What? Why?” I say, putting my hands under her thighs so she doesn’t slide off of my back.
“Just do it! Go!”
I run to the middle of the bustling two-way street with a woman on my back and dog at my side. I stop in the middle where a crowd of people with phones and selfie sticks surround me.
“Now what?” I ask, looking around.
“Look West, dummy!” she says, pointing down the street. I turn and see the sun setting through the towering buildings, casting a bright hue of orange and yellow down 57th Street. I squeeze Elle’s legs a little tighter and shake my head.
“Welcome to your first Manhattanhenge,” she says, kissing my cheek, then resting her chin on my shoulder.
“Why didn’t you just tell me what we were doing?” I ask, turning my head.
“Because it was more fun to surprise you,” she says, kissing my neck. Thor is still trying to climb up on me because apparently I look like a human jungle gym right now. “And here’s the most fun part,” she adds.
“What?”
“CARS! RUN!” Elle screams, her voice full of laughter.
I see the streetlight turn green above me and I race back to the sidewalk, Thor in tow, Elle cackling in my ear, and the rest of the crowd running alongside me.
When I get back to the corner, I look down the street and see crowds of people doing the same thing at each crosswalk for as far as I can see.
I set Elle down and put my hands on my knees, out of breath.
“You’re a weirdo, you know that?” I say, turning to Elle, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face.
“But I’m your weirdo,” she says, smiling right back. I stand up and kiss her because yes, she is.
Her eyes go back to the street. “Red light. Let’s go!”
She takes off into the crosswalk again, and I’m pulled into the street with her and the miniature dog that started it all.