“So you give her more insulin.”
“She gives it to herself. I suggest it.”
“Smart man.”
We laugh quietly.
“Look,” I say, after a beat. “I can’t believe someone like her is even real. And on top of that, she loves me back. I still wonder if I’m dreaming. So if worrying at night is all I have to do to keep her, that’s what I’ll do. I’d do anything.” I back toward the kitchen door. “Maybe when you know me better, we can talk about moving in together again. I won’t push it.”
“Wait,” Jason says, eyes clenched shut. “Goddammit.”
“Sir?”
He eyes me for long moments. “She wants to move in with you?”
I hold my breath and nod. “Yes, but you should ask her, anyway.”
“I will.” He snatches up his beer bottle and points the tip in my direction. “Two visits home from her per month. And more phone calls. Video ones.”
Jesus, is this really happening? “Done.”
Jason walks past me on his way to the living room, slapping me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family. Go crack a damn beer.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hesitates. “But you better drink my wife’s lemonade first.”
“Will do.”
Shell shocked, I stand there in the empty kitchen for a full minute, unable to believe I’m going to live with Birdie. I’m going to share a home with her. And when she bursts through the door of the kitchen, launches herself into my arms and whispers, “You did it,” happiness wraps around me in such a way that I know it’ll never let go.
*
Birdie
It’s moving day.
I’m so excited, I’m almost hyperventilating as I jog up the walkway toward our apartment building. It’s a cute new development half a mile from campus and our apartment is on the second floor. The freshly painted white door is propped open and I can see Jerimiah carrying a box on either one of his massive shoulders, turning sideways and ducking to fit through the doorway. I’ve been at class all morning and I begged him to wait so I could help, but he insisted on taking the morning off and getting started.
It’s been two weeks since we visited Jason and Naomi. We came back and started looking for apartments right away. This one felt right the moment we walked inside. There’s sunshine, space, it’s close to a bus line stop that runs directly to campus and most importantly, there’s a shower that Jerimiah can use without squatting.
God, I love my giant, sensitive, intuitive, gorgeous boyfriend. I love him with all my might and now I get to wake up beside him every morning. Get to fall asleep in his arms and make him breakfast and paint my toenails while he studies his football playbook. I’m so happy I don’t know how my feet remain on the ground.
I burst through the apartment door and set my book bag down. “Honey, I’m home!”
“Hey,” comes that delicious rumble from the bedroom. “How was class, beautiful?”
“Long. I wanted to be here helping…” I trail off when I see what’s hanging on the wall in the living room, bathed in sunshine. My heart lurches up into my throat, my eyes filling with moisture. “How did you get this?”
Jerimiah comes out of the bedroom and stands beside me, looking at the picture that hangs on the wall. It’s a blown-up photograph of the mural we painted together the second day we knew each other. The diverging branches that represent me and Natalie are right there in beautiful detail and until this moment, I didn’t know how badly I needed a reminder of her here. A reminder of what we were together and who I am, just as myself.
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I whisper, turning and wrapping my arms around him as far as they’ll go. “Right here. You are exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
He warms me in his embrace. “Welcome home, Birdie.”
THE END