Epilogue

More than three years have passed since that fateful night in Sri Lanka. I would like to boast about my many travels, the countries we have visited, and paint pictures of us working on the beach with toes dipped into the white sand.

Instead, soon after we returned to San Francisco, the world was shaken by a new kind of virus.

My fear of it was dimmed by a new wave of happiness, when more often than not I woke up with Arthur in his house. When people went crazy we stayed away in our own bliss with the hunger we needed to quench, the rawness of the feeling so powerful.

So, when I was finally ready to talk about all that had happened, the only way we could meet with Miranda was by video.

When my lease was running to an end, Arthur asked me to move in with him. I agreed because I had essentially lived with him since that first day we had come back from Sri Lanka.

As we were forced to stay at home during the first year of the pandemic, we minimized taking in the news and maximized lovemaking.

I had a lot of work because, when the pandemic hit, the downloads of our app grew tremendously. Arthur spent this time cooped up in the house setting up his business website, social media, and he consulted online. It was a good time for him to slow down his working process.

As I didn't have a family to worry about, and Arthur's family was trapped up in their mansion in England, staying away from people, all we could do was watch how stress and anxiety ate away the world.

We spent the next year traveling America. Arthur showed me how big, diverse, and interesting our country really was. We flew to big cities on the East coast, and we went on short road trips because working on the road proved to be more of a nuisance than anything.

One evening, after we returned from a trip and were splayed on his sofa in front of the TV, Arthur turned to me.

"Let's get married," he said. "What do you think? We spent a year caged in the house side by side and didn't want to murder each other, and we like the same things."

I smiled. "That's the most practical proposal I ever heard."

"Have you heard a lot of them?" Arthur asked, his brow raising.

"Plenty."

He chuckled and stood up, just to lower himself onto his knee in front of me. I was wearing pajamas and was sleepy after a shower, but his next words woke me up.

"Emily, I want to share my life with you. You are my life. These two years have been the best of my life because of you. When I thought I lost you that night in Sri Lanka, something in my chest cracked, and it hurt so much that I wanted to claw my heart out. But when you appeared in front of me, I was the happiest man on Earth. I love our life, your laugh, and every second with you. I love you. And among this craziness and uncertainty, I realized one thing, I want to be with you forever. If you'll allow me."

Arthur fished something out of his pocket and showed me a light blue box. He opened it as my heart raced. A beautiful stone lay on a delicate golden band. He took the ring out of the box.

"Marry me, Emily."

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Yes? Just like that?" Arthur asked, his eyes shining.

"Just like that," I said as he put the ring on my finger. "You're my home, and I want that future you promised in the letter."

Arthur kissed me, and I kissed him back, slowly.

"I love you," I whispered.

His lips trailed down my neck as his fingers unbuttoned my pajama top, as they slowly slid over my skin. In a few moments I was wearing only the gold ring and I was melting under his touch. It was almost pleasurably painful, this promise of our future.

We got married shortly afterward, by the ocean. I wore a white dress that hugged my body. Miranda curled my hair and I wore almost no makeup. Arthur promised me to try his best to never fail me, and I promised to be by his side, always. Miranda and Brian were the only guests, and the camera trained on us broadcasted the ceremony to the UK. Arthur's friends, with whom he started talking a lot when the pandemic hit, watched us. They would have loved to come, but borders were closed. As we later found out, Arthur's parents were also watching the ceremony. He sent them the link, but he said they would probably ignore it. They didn't.

When a few days later we came back from our honeymoon weekend in the desert, a massive bouquet was delivered, with a letter welcoming me to the family and inviting us to stay when international travel was allowed again.

"They probably found out that my brother can't have children, and they want us to make an heir for their legacy. They never pay attention for the sake of attention, they always seek something in return. Just wait to see their faces when we tell them we don't plan to have children," Arthur said.

We talked about having kids a lot. Arthur said that it was usually women who decided if they wanted kids, but in our family, it was reversed. I never had any inclination, and with an already overpopulated, dangerous, and polluted world, I thought it was not wise to bring a little person into it. And I cherished my freedom, our flexibility, our way of life too much. So the decision came naturally.

But Arthur was wrong about his parents. When we finally were allowed to travel to the UK, Arthur saw how his parents changed in the time he was away. They had grown softer, and even though he still didn't trust them, they were slowly winning his heart.

As for me, I watched his family with the wide eyes of a scientist—the rules, the formal interactions—and could not help but compare it with my family of just Dad and me. They were a family of old money, with the well-maintained mansion that was even filmed in movies and series now. Old money got invested in new stocks and made the family even richer. I could not count how many times I muttered posh to Arthur during our stay.

But the ice was melting, and Arthur spent hours talking to his mother, both of them retreating to their rooms red-eyed.

We came back to America with a promise to visit them soon again, and with just a small feeling of being loved. It was new for Arthur, and under his stoic facade, he clung to that love.

Miranda and Brian became famous for their parties, and when their house was too small for their plans, they bought a bigger one, and it turned into a full-force business, with schedules, themes, and exclusivity. Arthur loved both of them, so soon it was not me who scheduled our visits, but Miranda and Arthur, while Brian and I rolled our eyes at the next crazy idea they discussed. Their podcast bloomed.

Working away with our toes dipped into the white sand didn't work for us. We stayed at Arthur's house to work and took vacations away. We left our laptops in the house and flew away as often as our schedule allowed.

Now, when we had just gotten back from our first trip to Europe, Miranda drove to our house. She was nervous and when she entered the house she let out a long string of profanities. She held a letter. It was from Alice. Miranda put it on the table as if it were hot to the touch.

There was a letter inside the letter because Alice hadn't known how to reach me. She sent one to Miranda asking her to forward the one inside to me.

Sometimes my thoughts wandered back to her. How was she now? Where did she live? Was she happy?

So, when Arthur took the letter and gently pressed it into my hands, motioning me to the bedroom to read it, I did so. My hands shook as I opened the envelope and her familiar curly letters danced in front of me.

Dear Emily,

I owe you an apology for so many things. For dragging you to Sri Lanka, for almost manically stalking you there, for that night, and for hurting you so long ago when I didn't meet you outside my parents' house.

I'm so sorry.

But as I said before, I coped as best I could. And it turned out my coping mechanism wasn"t the best thing.

I just hope I didn't ruin your career with that acquisition. But as Ben has told me, the app is doing great, so I hope that at least one thing I did didn't hurt you. I'm so proud of you.

We live in Bali now. Before the pandemic hit, we left Sri Lanka and moved here. Since that time we have only visited America twice. During the first trip, I went by the little old house Jake and I rented. But it was a house for three, do you agree? It stood empty then, and I could almost see my Beetle and Jake's rusty Toyota in the driveway. I could almost hear the music flowing from the house, and the laughter. We were so happy there. I stood and cried as I watched the dimmed empty house.

My therapist told me it was a good idea for me to visit the place. She was right. It helped.

She helped me to sort out my feelings and guilt. I see how by wanting you back I wanted Jake back. How staying close to you brought him back, the feeling that he was just around the corner. It's true, but I also think it was love. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if you took me back. Would we be happy? Because when I look back now, I see the mess I was, how unstable and damaged I was. I'm still working on getting myself whole again.

But there are events that can't be changed, events that we have to live with the consequences of. I could not change that Jake died, and I could not change my grief afterward—the grief that pushed you away. But even now, after all these years I can't imagine going downstairs that day Miranda and Brian brought you to my parents" house. I could not change that moment.

And I am so sorry for that too.

I don't know anything about your life and it better stays that way. That's why I googled Miranda and Brian (they are finally in the entertainment business, it suits them!) because I knew that after all this time you'd be close to them. Because they saved you.

I hope you found your happiness.

After all those years of pain, I finally found mine.

That night in Sri Lanka I was so ashamed of myself that when I came back to our bungalow I started packing. How could I even stand by Ben's side while minutes before I had begged you to have me? A shudder ran down my spine as I remembered it. I was broken, Emily, and afterward, disgusted with myself.

When Ben entered the room, he didn't let go of me. He never did. I remember how I pressed myself to the wall because I could barely stand. I explained that he needed to let me go because I betrayed him, because I loved another person. I told him that I kissed you and how I had just stood naked in front of you pleading for you to touch me.

I saw how each of my words landed like a whip, but he stood there looking into my eyes.

I tried to prove to him that I didn't deserve him. I felt like filthy lying trash.

Do you know what he did? He scooped me into his arms. I was shaking so violently by that time that the bed trembled when he sat on it with me in his arms. We sat silent for a long time until the shaking finally subsided. He asked me if I would have him. I remember how I laughed incredulously, and that I asked if he had heard what I told him. He did.

Ben said that he loved me from the first moment he laid eyes on me. And that if it was not a reciprocal love, he was fine with it. He asked if he could stay until I felt better, that he needed me to heal. And when I was ready, he would disappear.

I had no power to fight. Ben stayed by my side when even I would not stay by my side. I worked through the guilt with my new therapist. Those were dark months, we moved to another place and started from scratch. I lived separately, but close to Ben. I wanted to offer something to him in return. On many nights I walked to his house and offered him my body, he refused every time, and we just lay in the darkness as I curled by his side. Soon it was every night that I came to him, and later the nights turned into days. I moved in with Ben, but he still wouldn't touch me. We lived as friends, we talked for days and nights.

You said I was a lesbian, I am, but with one major exception. I fell in love with a human, not with a gender. My love for him grew slowly, yes, but it is so strong now, that sometimes it's difficult to breathe. He didn't kiss me until he saw how I felt, until I loved him with everything I had.

There are different kinds of love. One that blooms immediately, one that binds you to family, one that is easy, one that is hard, and one that grows.

My love for Ben grew in the darkness of my mind, through the pain. His constant presence, care, and protection helped me find the lost part of myself. Without it, I could not love.

One night I woke up to an empty bed, and at that moment the feeling of such a profound dread overtook me that I barely stayed conscious. Ben was gone. I remembered how he promised that when I was better he would disappear. I sat on the bed and looked at the empty space to my right, hollow, frozen. That moment undermined everything I had worked for years because I was only strong if Ben was by my side. And he was gone.

I sat paralyzed for what seemed like hours, in truth it was no more than fifteen minutes. When the door opened and Ben walked in, I dashed to him, almost knocking us both over. I clung to his shirt as I was drowning. As I sobbed I asked him not to go, that I could not live without him, to please, please stay.

Apparently, he could not sleep and just went to the ocean to take a breath. I was so ashamed, but he looked happy. I said that I remembered his promise of disappearing when I felt better. He hugged me tighter and whispered that he wasn't going anywhere until I asked him to.

That night showed me the power of my love for him. In those minutes when I sat alone my heart was breaking, but when he rocked me in his arms, it mended itself.

The next day he proposed a second time. It was the happiest day of my life.

I wished Jake could attend the small ceremony we had, and in a way, I think he was there, I felt him. He would have loved Ben.

I think about Jake a lot, and often try to imagine the life he'd have had now. When traveling is easy again Ben and I plan to duplicate the trip I took with Jake to Eastern Europe.

You may wonder why I'm writing all this, for you. You said that our story ended years ago when I didn't go downstairs to meet you. It would have been easy just to open that window and call you. I used to torment myself with what-ifs. One major what if was what if I had called you, what if I emerged for a second from that dark swamp and called for your help. I think we'd still be together. Can you imagine us both being thirty-something, living together, loving each other? I can.

But maybe it was never meant to be. One part of me always loved you, while the rest of me is healing, and living, and loving my life now. I'm proud to be the wife of the person I can't live without.

I hope you love and you are loved.

This is a letter of goodbye, Emily. Finally, I'm at the point where I can truly say that our story is over. You got there much earlier than I did. But it's time to let go of the past.

I'm letting go of the part of me that loved you with this letter.

Goodbye.

Alice

I pressed the letter to my chest, the smiling faces of Jake and Alice in my mind, that Thanksgiving almost eleven years ago.

"Goodbye," I whispered back.