• chapter twenty-seven • 

The base of the laptop was hot against my thighs. I had been using it for the past three hours, taking a ten-minute break every now and then. My eyes were burning from lack of sleep. It was so tempting to let my eyelids flutter shut. The bed, with Liam wrapped up in the comforter, was so inviting. 

For a minute I closed my eyes and imagined myself getting into the toasty-warm bed with him. His arm would sleepily reach out and pull me closer to his body, and I would let my fingertips feel the smooth skin of his chest.

But no. I had work to do. I looked at him, dozing in the golden glow of the lamp. His face was peaceful. I got up to kiss his head, then returned to the laptop, my face immediately getting bathed in the blue light of the screen.

A crazy number of websites and clicks later, I found this one page where there were details of a woman named Rachel. There wasn't a photo anywhere. Apparently, she was a mediator and an exorcist. She had been dealing with paranormal entities ever since the death of her husband, which was twenty years ago, according to the site. I read further. She lived in New York too. I noted down her phone number. I couldn't call her right now because the noise would wake Liam up. Even if I went outside, the sound of the door opening would disturb him, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to tell him anything yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up and then see them getting crushed. I wouldn't be able to see his face when he realized that again we had failed to find a plan to save ourselves.

This was the reason I hadn't told anyone about my nightly research sessions, not Zack, not Ash. It had almost slipped out of my mouth when I had revealed my pregnancy to them. I had almost said, I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes, so I'm still trying to find a way to break the curse. Almost. But I didn't.

Since I couldn't call Rachel at that moment, I sent her an e-mail, sending my number and requesting her to call me, and explaining my problem. Then I shut my laptop and rubbed my eyes. It was 2 a.m. I took out my sketchbook and started drawing. This sketch was due tomorrow.

Liam was really worried about how hard I was working these days, trying to finish the course as soon as possible. I was rushing because I felt like I was running out of time. I could just about understand why Liam didn't want the baby: it was like our time had suddenly been cut short. There was now a deadline for achieving our dreams. If we wanted to do something extraordinary in this life, then it had to be within these nine — now eight — months, because after that the baby would be the priority.

Sometimes I wondered if I was right in making this decision. I had almost forced this decision on Liam. I had left him with only two choices: he could either give up on his dreams or give up on me. And I knew he didn't want the latter, because he loved me, and this just made me all the more guilty. But then I thought about the other choice I had, and that was abortion. That made me shudder.

I had started spending six hours studying, and every time Liam saw me with a book he would remind me, "You don't have to rush. You're doing this course for pleasure. You don't have to have a baby. You can still give it up," and I would respond with a villainous look. Just today we had squabbled about this. 

I kept sketching, calming myself down. Art was therapy for me. I channeled all my emotions into the lines I drew, focusing on the sound of pencil scratching against the paper. If only everything were as easy as sketching.

  ∞  

"Where are we going?"

"Hazel, no matter how many times you ask me this, I won't tell you."

I noisily exhaled air from my mouth. "Fine." My black skirt filled up with air and almost flew up. I pressed it down with my hands. I hated dresses so much. Why had Liam asked me to wear one? I could think of just one reason: he had planned a surprise for me. Yeah, that was possible. He himself was clothed in a white shirt with black trousers. Maybe we were going to a really fancy restaurant?

"You don't mind walking, do you?" He asked for the hundredth time, despite me having replied that no, I was fine.

"I mind. Why don't you pick me up and carry me to wherever you're taking me?"

"Okay then." He turned to me and stretched out his arms. It tickled where his fingers touched me. I wriggled out of his hold, laughing.

"Where are you taking me?"

This time he completely ignored me, letting my question go into one ear and out the other. I took his arm, looked up at him, and batted my lashes. "Please?" I purred. The truth was, I didn't really care where we were going; I was just trying to annoy him. He still didn't answer. I swatted his arm. "Don't do this."

"Holy cow. We're going to River Café."

"Isn't this that place near Brooklyn Bridge? We can see the East River from there."

"Yeah, that's the place."

"Really?" I planted a kiss on his cheek. "Liam?"

"Hm?"

"You look handsome in that shirt."

"And you look beautiful in that dress." He placed his hand on the small of my back. "When a male penguin falls in love with a female penguin, he searches the entire beach for the perfect pebble to present to her, and when he finally finds it, he waddles over to her and places the pebble right in front of her. Kind of like a proposal."

"That's so sweet."

"And lobsters mate for life."

"Nope, they don't. That's a myth. In fact, in a neighborhood, females take turns to mate with the one dominant male. Albatrosses mate for life, though."

"Really? I spent half my life believing that lobsters mate for life. Wow," he said.

"Even swans mate for life. They do this adorable thing where they crane their heads together, their graceful necks creating a heart shape. They're used as a symbol of romance, too. But sometimes, when a couple find themselves unable to breed with each other any longer, they split up. But divorced couples still live closely and cordially with each other, even with their new partners."

"That's mature."

"I love swans. They're so beautiful."

We reached the place. The bridge was lit up. From far away it looked like someone had strung fairylights across the bridge, fastening the ends to the arches while the middle part drooped and formed a graceful curve. I saw a boat cutting through the water, glowing golden from the lights inside it. Behind the river, Manhattan stretched out, the lights in the buildings twinkling against the darkening sky. A soft breeze pushed my hair back. It smelled like water. "Twenty people died while constructing this bridge," Liam said.

"Thanks, that's exactly the kind of stuff you tell your girlfriend when you're out on a date."

"You're quite welcome." He bent his arm. I looped mine through it and followed him as he led me into the posh restaurant and then out of it through the back gate. We emerged into a deserted dining area which had a plastic roof over it. There were tables draped with white tablecloths. In one corner, in full view of the river was a table that could seat two people, lit up by the tiny candle in a glass container which was placed in the middle of it.

I stared quietly. This was so picturesque: dining at night in candlelight as the water lapped softly in the river. Liam signaled to a waiter, and then chivalrously pulled out a chair for me.

"May I ask why we're here today?"

"You'll know soon enough." He winked at me. I couldn't help feeling that the surprise he had for me was big, and I couldn't contain my excitement. I hardly focused on the sparkling wine and the lavish meal.

Liam cleared his throat. "Hazel...um. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met. You are the only one who truly understands me. I'm the luckiest guy in the world because I have you. And anyone who has you...uh." He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to remember something. He actually looked nervous, fingers drumming against the table. 

"Is my handsome writer actually at a loss for words?"

"No, wait. Anyone who has you..." He put his head down at the table. "Whatever." He stood up abruptly, came over to me and pulled me up into his arms. "Hazel, I absolutely love you, and you are the one person I would give up my life for. You complete me. I can't live without you. I'm so glad that on your first day at school, there was no seat available and you ate lunch with me. I am so glad that I shared my mix-tapes with you, and my favorite books with you, my favorite memories with you. I'm so glad I shared a piece of myself with you, and I'm so glad you did the same. I'm so glad that you carried that piece safely in the palm of your hand, and didn't crush it. You could've easily broken me, because you were the one person I truly opened up to, but you didn't. I'm so glad that I fell in love with you, because you are a wonderful person, and you are perfect for me. You might not be perfect, but our relationship is." He stopped and caught a tear falling off my cheek. I hadn't even noticed my tears, I was so absorbed in what he was saying. There was a burning passion in his eyes. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Hazel. I want to make beautiful memories with you, and I want to laugh over those memories when we're old. And I don't care if we're too young for this —"

He knelt down on one knee and took out a beautiful silver ring from his pocket. "Marry me, please?"

On cue, five violin players popped out of nowhere and soft, beautiful music filled the empty place. My breath caught in my throat. "You...you remembered that I love silver more than I love gold...?" was all I could stammer.

"Yeah, as you can see."

"I never thought you could be so romantic, Liam." A complete breakdown was three seconds away.

"Could you maybe hurry up? My knee is hurting." He grinned.

"Of course I'll say yes, you idiot!" He took my right hand. "Left!" I told him, laughing and crying at the same time. He pushed the ring up my third finger. As soon as he stood up I kissed him, more passionately and deeply than I ever had before, letting his tongue explore my mouth. I wanted him to take off my dress and run his hands all over me, and I wanted to kiss him everywhere, but there were the five violin players. So I rested my head on his shoulder and cried instead, and told him that I loved him. He started swaying to the music. I swayed with him.

"If it's a boy," Liam said, "we'll call him Dylan."

I smiled. "No," I said through my tears. "Isaac."

"Dylan."

"Isaac." 

We argued playfully for a long time, and I could've stayed there forever with him, but I had scheduled the meeting at night, and I had to go back soon enough to enable at least a three-hour gap between our entry into the apartment and the arrival of the mediator, so that Liam could be in a deep, comfortable slumber.

He twirled me around on a finger. When I was facing away from him, he wound his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. We gazed at the cityscape together. "Citylights always remind me of this one song I heard on the radio," he murmured. "I remember two lines. 'Starry nights, citylights coming down over me. Skyscrapers, stargazers in my head'."

"That's the song 'Are We The Waiting' by Green Day," I answered. "How amazing it would be to skinny-dip in the river at night-time, when the water is colorful from the reflected lights," I said, looking at the river over his shoulder.

"We'll go someday, before your stomach swells up like a balloon."

"I can't swim."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah." It wasn't that cold, but I faked a shiver and rubbed my arms. "I used to take swimming classes as a kid but I never learnt anything."

"Are you cold?"

"A bit."

His arms wrapped tighter around me. "Warmer now?" 

"Hm." After some more time I said, "Can we go home? It's really cold here."

On our way out, we thanked the violinists. We stumbled like drunk lovers, hand in hand, chatting and laughing in the streets of the city that never sleeps, our laughter echoing in the night air. I wanted the night to never end.

Back in our bedroom, we fell onto the bed and made love. And that is the last good thing I can remember that happened to me. The last good thing that happened to us. I looked into his beautiful grey eyes as they slowly closed and he fell asleep with his arms and legs tangled in mine.

At around 1 am, I detangled myself from him, put on a night-robe, and went outside, battling the urge to turn on the lights along the way. I was scared stiff, because it was dark, and also because it was cold, and coldness had bad connotations for me.

I stood near the main door. Soon enough, there was a knock. As quietly as I could, I opened the door.

  ∞