Whoops.
At first, I wished that moment with Elijah were private. Just for us. I wanted to gather that proof that he loved me and keep it all to myself. But the camera captured something honest while we clung to one another in the boat and nothing has been the same since then. Of course Elijah still deals with his fair share of criticism and opposition—such is politics—but after that night on the river, our relationship stopped being a source of rampant speculation and became something to be celebrated. Not just by Elijah and me, but strangers, too. Elijah’s family and friends. We never would have let rumors and gossip tear us apart, but it’s a lot easier to be happy when everyone else is happy with us.
Speaking of rumors, it turns out I do have a half-sister out there. A confirmed father, too, not that I plan to do anything with that information besides…have it. The possibility has always been in the front of my mind and knowing for sure where I came from settled something inside me I didn’t know was cluttered up. For now, Elijah and I are keeping the knowledge just to ourselves. Maybe we will forever. But who knows? Someday soon, I might very well have to invite Naomi to one of the lady’s lunches.
If she ever stays in Charleston long enough to pin down.
Happy is such a thin word for how I feel. My days are spent doing what I love—a business I’m proud of—and my nights and weekends are full of Elijah. Over the summer, we went on kayaking trips, Elijah showing me parts of South Carolina I didn’t know existed. One weekend in July was spent in New York so Elijah could see where I’d been, “while making him wait.” We’ve put the giant kitchen to good use, cooking old favorites and trying new things. Most of the time we even make it through dinner without getting naked.
Okay fine, most of the time we don’t make it through the meal, but we give it the old college try. It’s just that…sex between us has exploded into another realm since all the walls crashed down between us. There are no secrets. No white lies or holding back truths. No confusion or pasts hanging over our heads. It’s just his heartbeat thundering against mine, our mouths whispering words of praise and love…and filth…and an infinite amount of time to revel in each other.
God, I love Elijah. I loved him in the back of that church with my whole heart. But he’s got my heart and soul now. My past, present and future. He’s got them right in those capable hands I trust so much and they’ll never be anywhere else.
As I step into the market, I can feel the weight of the soul he’s handed me, too. It’s a weight that presses on my chest in the most delicious way all day and all night long. Maybe it’s been there since the beginning, this weight, but I wouldn’t let myself accept it. I couldn’t accept it, until that night in the boat. Now I can’t live without it.
I’m only a few steps into the market when I hear…singing? It stops me in my tracks because it’s so unexpected. There’s no cacophony of voices or shuffling of feet. Everything is so still, too. No one is taking selfies or haggling over sales prices. There is a sea of faces on either side of the main aisle—some semi-familiar—and they’re all still. They’re looking at me. Smiling.
I follow the sound of singing farther down the aisle. It’s a choir. They’re harmonizing and the sound whips around the rafters, beautiful. So beautiful and clear. Putting one foot in front of the other, I start to notice things, like Christmas lights. Usually our booth is the only one lit up by lights, but they’re on every stall now, twinkling white and blue, guiding my way toward the singing, which gets a little louder with every step. What is going on here? No one is moving in the usually chaotic market and I’m starting to wonder if I’m still wrapped in Elijah’s arms in our bed, dreaming this whole scene.
It gets even more surreal when snow begins to fall from the ceiling.
Yes. Snow.
When I catch a flake in my palm, it’s not cold and has the consistency of cotton, but it’s falling around the entire market. And combined with the angelic singing and lights and smiling faces…I’ve been transported to the most incredible wonderland I could ever imagine. Faces are beginning to grow more familiar now, too. I recognize some of my artists, orange paint still on their noses from decorating store fronts. Chris is there with Sonia—and Lydia, too. They shift a little and I spot Virginia and Roy, dressed in their Sunday finest. I guess…