“More than seven years from now? That’s crazy.” In his eyes, I thought I saw something like fear.
“Maybe. But if it works then, we’ll know it’s right.”
“Do we talk until then? Or write letters?”
That would be too hard for me, I knew. If I received regular letters, I’d never stop thinking about him, nor would he stop thinking about me. “How about a single Christmas card every year?”
“Are you going to date other people?”
“I don’t have anyone in mind, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But you’re not saying that you won’t.”
The tears began to fall. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’ve known all along that saying goodbye would be hard, and this is all I can think to do. If we’re meant to be, we can’t just love each other as teenagers. We have to love each other as adults. Don’t you get that?”
“I’m not trying to fight. It’s just such a long time…” His voice cracked.
“It is for me, too. And I hate that I’m saying this to you. But I’m not good enough for you, Bryce. Not yet, anyway. Please give me a chance to be, okay?”
He said nothing. Instead, he gently brushed the moisture from my cheeks. “Ocracoke,” he finally whispered.
“What?”
“On your twenty-fourth birthday, let’s plan to meet at the beach. Where we had our date, okay?”
I nodded, wondering if it would even be possible, and when he kissed me, I thought I could almost taste his sadness. Instead of staying with me, he helped me to my feet and put his arms around me. I could smell him, clean and fresh, like the island where we’d met.
“I can’t help thinking I’m running out of days to hold you. Can I see you tomorrow?”
“I’d like that,” I whispered, feeling his body against my own, already knowing that the next goodbye would be even worse and wondering how I would ever get through it.
What I didn’t know then was that I would never get the chance.
Merry Christmas
Manhattan
December 2019
Seated at the table with the remnants of dinner in front of them, Maggie noted Mark’s rapt attention. Though the food had arrived about half an hour later than expected, they’d finished eating somewhere around the point in the story when she’d told him that she’d ridden with Bryce to drop off Daisy. Or rather, Mark had finished; Maggie had only picked at her food. Now it was coming up on eleven and Christmas Day was only an hour away. Remarkably, Maggie wasn’t exhausted or uncomfortable, especially compared to how she’d been feeling earlier. Reliving the past had revived her in a way she hadn’t expected.
“What do you mean you never got the chance?”
“Those Braxton Hicks I’d been having that Monday weren’t Braxton Hicks. They were actual labor contractions.”
“And you didn’t know?”
“Not at first. It wasn’t until Bryce left and the next one hit that the thought even crossed my mind. Because that one was a doozy. But I was still so emotional about Bryce, and because my due date wasn’t until the following week, I somehow tucked the thought away until my aunt got home. By then, of course, I’d had even more contractions.”
“What happened?”
“As soon as I mentioned that they’d been coming more frequently and were a lot stronger, she called Gwen. By then, it was at least a quarter past three, maybe half past. When Gwen arrived, it took her less than a minute to make the decision to go to the hospital, because she didn’t think I’d make it until the morning ferry. My aunt tossed a bunch of things in my duffel bag—the only thing I really cared about was Maggie-bear—then called my parents and the doctor and we were out the door. Thank God the ferry wasn’t crowded and we were able to get on. I think that by then, the contractions were coming every ten to fifteen minutes apart. Usually, you wait until they’re five minutes apart before you go to the hospital, but the ferry and drive to the hospital was three and a half hours. A long three and a half hours, I might add. By the time the ferry docked, the contractions were coming four to five minutes apart. I’m amazed I didn’t squeeze the stuffing out of Maggie-bear.”
“But you made it.”
“I did. But what I remember most was how calm my aunt and Gwen were the whole time. No matter how many crazy noises I made when the contractions hit, they just kept chatting away like nothing unusual was going on at all. I guess they’d driven lots of pregnant mothers to the hospital.”