“It was on Long Island,” she interrupts tearfully. I smile. Always the journalist, fact checking what I say. I don’t mind because I adore how intelligent and sharp she is.
“When you and Nicole went to Long Island,” I say humbly, “I drove out to the country and told my parents that I’d met the love of my life, and wanted to ask her to become my wife. They let me take my great-grandmother’s ring as a result. So I’d like to ask you now: Casey Henderson, the future mother of my child,” I say, voice breaking with emotion, “Darling, will you be my wife?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I will!” the curvy girl cries, throwing her arms around my neck. “I’d love to,” she murmurs against my bronzed throat.
“It’s only just beginning,” I tell her.
We kiss. I feel a warm tear slide onto my neck, and it’s not coming from Casey. She notices immediately and smiles gently.
“Are you crying, you big softie?”
I nod. “We’re going to be a family.”
“Yes,” she says, putting her little hand into mine. “We are.”
My beautiful fiancée leads me to the spacious living room and we toast to our future with champagne for me, and a strawberry lime seltzer for Casey. The city shines below.
Casey turns to me and smiles.
“I sure am glad I tore you to shreds in my column,” she says softly.
“I sure am glad I set the record straight,” I reply with a grin.
We both laugh then. A wedding to plan and a baby on the way. Who knew? I didn’t realize this life was waiting for me. We never do, I suppose, because sometimes, just sometimes … life hands you the gifts that you actually want.
* * *
The End
* * *
19
Claire
Oh no.
I stood on the edge of the pool in a red swimsuit, wishing the concrete would open up and swallow me. The suit, now more of a faded pink than red, was way too tight. My mom only bought me a plain one-piece because she was convinced that I needed to get my nose out of my books and my butt in the water.
“Live a little!” Phoebe begged. “Get out there and meet some nice boys!”
I’d refused to look up, cheeks flushing. Because the truth is there were no boys interested in me. I was more of a wallflower, the invisible girl who faded into the background.
But Phoebe didn’t know that. Even though we didn’t have much, my mom wanted me to get out there and make lots of friends, so she’d bought me a red swimsuit like the ones from Baywatch. But the problem was that even if the suit looked like the ones on TV, I don’t look like the actresses wearing them. I’m plush and round everywhere, more of a curvy girl than a hard body. So as you can imagine, the outfit looked completely different in real life.
But usually it’s okay. I like being luscious, and I’ve never thought that skinny string beans with gristly muscles looked good. But hey, to each their own. Except today. Today I was lined up, toes touching the edge of the water, looking at the Olympic-sized pool below, feeling horribly out of place. The water was beautiful, rippling and blue, but also slightly threatening. Could I handle it? Would I survive? We were doing the school swim test, and everyone else seemed comfortable and at ease. I, on the other hand, just prayed not to drown.
“Squeee!” shrieked the whistle. Jolted, I looked around wildly, staring at the other girls. What did that mean? But the instructor watching us just smirked.
“Ready?” she belted. “Two laps ladies, over and back. It’ll be over before you know it!”
My heart sank because the thing is, I’m not very good at swimming, and two laps is a lot. It’s not that I couldn’t do the two laps, it’s more that I’d swim them in a messy doggy paddle, flailing this way and that, kicking like a crazed animal. But no one said you had to be an Olympic swimmer with perfect strokes, so doggy paddle it was.
Then came more blasts.
“Squeeeee!” went the whistle. “Squeee! Squeee!”
At that, the other girls dived into the pool, slick as seals, while I watched, toes still curled over the edge of the cement. Oh god, oh god! They were already going strong and I was still stuck here like a lump on the hot concrete. This would never do.
Taking a deep breath and squeezing my eyes shut, I jumped in. No dive, god no. I can’t dive worth salt, and jumping in was fine, thank you very much. As I pushed off the edge, gamely I began trying to stroke. Right arm forwards, then left. Then right. Oh wait, and there was kicking too, I had to kick! Left foot kick and then right. And then left. I gasped, panting and flailing, hoping I didn’t look too stupid.