Marley hasn’t moved. No flutter of lids, no twitch of fingers, nothing. Instead, I take my cue from the steady beeping of the monitor, urging me to continue.
“Until she met a boy. They found each other when they thought their stories were at an end. But they started writing a new one, and for the first time in a long time, the girl allowed her story to be a happy one. Her story with him. And he promised her… he would never let her go.”
Another tingle of electricity skitters along my forehead, right down the length of my scar. Her fingers give the barest twitch in mine—or is that wishful thinking?
I think of the man in the moon, the wishes the girl made for her love. So I close my eyes and let the story carry me to her, to the girl I know is waiting for me, lost somewhere in a story that is ours and ours alone.
Suddenly, behind my closed lids, I see the ducks quacking loudly at my feet, waddling down the path to perch under the cherry tree with its falling petals. I look around. It’s our world, Marley’s and mine, but it holds a different hue now, as if covered by a dark-blue gauze. The air is ominous, heavy. My heart thumps in my chest. This doesn’t feel right. This isn’t our story, not the one we were building together.
Where is Marley? I need to find her. Now.
I run up the path that will take me to the cemetery. That’s where I’ll find her, at Laura’s grave, where we first met.
I see a field of pink Stargazers in the distance, the sight pushing me forward. I haul ass, some part of me knowing that I can’t really run this fast, not with my leg, but here, in this world, I am whole. My legs churn, faster now, as they carry me toward that sea of endless pink, extending far past the boundaries of Laura’s plot.
“Marley!” I race headlong into the wild wave of Stargazers.
I push aside the flowers, searching. She’s not here. But… she has to be. It’s the only place she would go.
I keep charging through the pink lilies, calling frantically for Marley, until suddenly I burst out the other side of the flower field. Where am I? It’s darker here, grayer, a thick, roiling mist clinging to the ground. It’s the cemetery, but… different.
That’s when I spot it, that bare gravestone, lonely and desolate, pronouncing that one aching word: GOODBYE.
God, I remember this grave. It broke my heart when I saw it, so much so that I placed a single flower upon its stone. I blink, unsure if my eyes are playing tricks on me.
That flower is still there, exactly where I left it.
I move closer to pick it up. Sorrow settles on me like a dark cloud. Almost instantly I’m filled with it, the raw emptiness of loss as I stare at the flower.
Then I hear it. A sniffle. A tiny broken cry. Marley.
She’s hunched over. Her back is resting against the single word inscribed on the stone.
GOODBYE.
Realization floods me. This isn’t just any sad gravestone. It’s Marley’s gravestone. Every time we walked by it, smiling and laughing, it was right here, waiting for her. Taunting her. And I had no idea.
No! I drop to my knees in front of her, determined to make her hear me.
“Not like this, Marley,” I tell her. “This is not your fate. This is not the end of your story.”
My arms reach for her, but she pulls away.
“Just leave me alone.”
“No. I won’t. You invited me into the most secret places inside of you, and, Marley, this is not it. This place, this you, is a lie. I know the real you. It doesn’t look like this.”
As I speak, the world around us seems to listen, to take up the story I’m telling. The sky fights off the dark, growing lighter above us. Green explodes from the ground beneath our feet, rich verdant grass that sweeps past us to cover the whole cemetery. Flowers sprout and bloom. Our world again.
“This is our story, Marley. This is where you belong. In our place, the one we built together,” I say, so sure I’m getting through to her.
I pull her close, and for a moment she leans her sweet head against me, her jasmine scent tickling my nose. Yes.
Then she says softly, brokenly, “I wasn’t meant for that world.”
What? I cup my hand under her chin, pull her face up to mine, and say the words that I know to be truer than any others: “You were meant for me. Come back with me. Let me show you where our story can go.…”
Images appear around us like snapshots:
A college graduation, Marley throwing her cap and grinning wildly.
Me and Marley running down the aisle, the train of her wedding gown trailing behind us.
Marley at a book signing, a line of excited kids waiting to meet her.