“And then, eventually, it will become difficult to be active, hard to breathe. When that happens, I won’t have much time. All told, we’re looking at ten years, give or take, if I’m lucky.”
“Ten years? You’re only forty-nine.”
“I know.”
I started crying. I couldn’t help it.
“You’re making a scene,” she said. “You have to stop.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“OK,” she said. “OK.”
She picked up her purse and threw down a hundred-dollar bill. She pulled me out of my chair, and we walked to the valet. She gave him her ticket. She put me in the front seat of the car. She drove me to her house. She sat me on the sofa.
“Can you handle this?” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked her. “Of course I can’t handle it.”
“If you can handle this,” she said, “then we can do this. We can be together. I think we can . . . we can spend the rest of our lives together, Evelyn. If you can handle this. But I can’t, in good conscience, do this to you if you don’t think you’ll survive it.”
“Survive what, exactly?”
“Losing me again. I don’t want to let you love me if you don’t think you can lose me again. One last time.”
“I can’t. Of course I can’t. But I want to anyway. I’m going to anyway. Yes,” I said finally. “I can survive it. I’d rather survive it than never feel it.”
“Are you sure?” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure about anything. I love you, Celia. I’ve always loved you. And we should spend the rest of the time we have together.”
She grabbed my face. She kissed me. And I wept.
She started crying with me, and soon I couldn’t tell whether the tears I was tasting were hers or mine. All I knew was that I was once again in the arms of the woman I was always meant to love.
Eventually, Celia’s blouse was on the floor and my dress was hiked up around my thighs. I could feel her lips on my chest, her hands on my stomach. I stepped out of my dress. Her sheets were stark white and perfectly soft. She no longer smelled like cigarettes and alcohol but like citrus.
In the morning, I woke up with her hair in my face, fanned across the pillow. I rolled to my side and curved my body against the back of hers.
“Here is what we’re going to do,” Celia said. “You’re going to leave Max. I’m going to call a friend of mine in Congress. He’s a representative from Vermont. He needs some press. You’re going to be seen around with him. We’re going to spread a rumor that you’re stepping out on Max with a younger man.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Jesus, Celia. He’s a child,” I said.
“That’s exactly what peopl
e will say. They’ll be shocked that you’re dating him.”
“And when Max tries to slander me?”
“It won’t matter what he’s trying to claim about you. It will look like he’s just bitter.”
“And then?” I asked.
“And then, down the line, you marry my brother.”