Page 57 of Parallel

She hesitates. “Sure,” she finally says, her voice soft and a little uncertain.

And I begin to count the minutes until I see a woman I can never have.

The light is already waning when I finally get out of the hospital. I walk fast, weaving through the throngs of students and tourists, a pulse of people entering Dean & Deluca, and another pulse trying to escape it. The sun is at half-mast by the time I reach the waterfront, and I scan the crowd with a sinking heart, wondering if I’ve missed her.

She is sitting on a bench in a blue dress, the sheer fabric floating around her knees. The expression on her face is wistful as she watches the dancers. When our eyes meet, the wistful look disappears, and she gives me a smile that is pure sunshine.

I take the seat beside her, trying to focus on my reasons for being here and not her proximity, her smooth skin, the smell of her shampoo. It’s harder than it sounds. “I placed a call today. A buddy of mine works in the admissions office. You’re in this fall, if you want to be. Most of the classes you’ll need will already be full. He said he can find a way to get you into the majority of them. He’ll email you in the morning.”

Her mouth is open, her eyes wide and uncertain. “Wha…what? You got me into the fall class? Just like that?”

I nod. “If you want to be. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you. I just thought—”

She springs forward and throws her arms around me tight, laughing and crying at the same time. “Pressuring me? You just saved me!” she cries. “Oh my God, I love you so much!”

Jesus, what I wouldn’t give to hear her say it for real.

She releases me, pressing palms to rosy cheeks. “This is unbelievable! I’m starting school!” she squeals. “I’m really starting school!”

She’s beaming, and it’s impossible not to smile back, but I still need to discuss something else with her and it’s slightly more sensitive. “I also talked to a friend who practices family law about protecting your money. He said a prenup would be best, but as long as you’ve signed the contract with Georgetown prior to the date of your wedding, the money from your father will be considered legally committed to your education and should precede any claim Jeff might have to it.”

She gives a small nod. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “So much. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

She bites her lip as her eyes flicker to mine. Maybe she hears the finality in those words, the way I’m trying to convince myself this is goodbye. And it does have to be goodbye. As much as I don’t want to walk away tonight, leaving her in Jeff’s incompetent hands, I also don’t have a choice. It’ll have to be enough for me to know she’s going back to school. Whether she marries Jeff or not, at least she’s getting something she wanted.

I rise. “I think maybe you owe me a dance before we leave.”

She looks up with cautious eyes, then slowly stands. “I really have no idea what I’m doing,” she says.

I take her left hand and place it on my shoulder, before taking her free hand in mine. “Okay, just step,” I tell her. “One, two. One, two. Now rock step.”

That dream I always have of us dancing—was it something in the past or was I dreaming about this, right now? What I mostly remember is how badly I wanted her. How badly I wanted to keep her with me forever. I feel it now, every bit as much.

“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning.

“I guess you won’t be too weirded out if I tell you I think I’ve dreamed about this?”

Her gaze shifts away from me. “I have too. You used to…I mean, I’ve dreamed you used to come meet me outside of this evening class I took to walk me home. And one night we danced in the grass.”

Her words settle, fill the blank spaces in my mind. I pull her closer. “Is that why you come here to watch?” Because if I’d known this existed, I think I would have come here too.

Her smile flickers out for a moment as she looks around us. “I think so. And now it reminds me of—” She flushes, letting her words trail off.

My hand presses to her hip. “What does it remind you of?”

She focuses on the ground rather than me. “The night you proposed.”

I stop dancing for just a moment, surprised by what she’s said, but even more surprised that I already sort of knew this. I can’t detail our past the way she can, but I know the color of it, the feeling behind it. I know I wanted to marry her, even if I can’t remember asking the question. “I feel like I knew that,” I tell her. She’s still embarrassed by the admission, so I pick up our steps again. “And now we do a little spin.”

“I can’t sp—” she begins, but she is already twirling away from me, unfurling effortlessly like a spinning top before momentum pulls her back. She lands against my chest, and when I glance down, I find our mouths are inches apart. My eyes focus there a moment longer than they should. We’ve been here before too. Exactly here. I wonder if I wanted her as badly then as I do right now.

She swallows and steps away. “It’s getting dark,” she says. There’s a breathless quality to her voice that would give me a semi if I didn’t already have one. “I should probably head to the Metro.”

I want her to stay. I want this goodbye to never end, but it isn’t my choice. We head to the path along the water, though it’s the longer way to go. The sun is in its last gasp, coloring the sky in swaths of charcoal and pink. The crickets seem to begin chirping all at once, although it’s probably just that there’s finally enough silence to hear them.

“I had another dream,” she says quietly. “The night we were in Baltimore.”