As Told By Paramours

chapter thirty-five

josie

I AM PRETTY SURE MY HEART HAS TAKEN PERMANENT RESIDENCE IN MY THROAT.

I'm thinking this especially now that the whole of Jameson and everyone is looking at me expectantly.

I'm not sure if Elijah got my note— until I see him walk in, and I inhale sharply because he looks even more beautiful and I can't believe everything that has happened over the past near-three weeks. His beanie is lopsided, and his shirt is a little rumpled. And I missed him immeasurably. I love him.

"Oh, okay, he's here," I say into my mic, earning a couple laughs. He doesn't laugh, but his lip quirks. I'd like to kiss him. "Um. Okay. So you're probably all wondering, what the hell is this girl doing sitting up there, and honestly I'm wondering too. Anyway, so I met this guy a couple months ago, through my beautiful Nan and this guy's grandfather, John." My Nan scowls. John waves dramatically. "As gleeful as ever, Nan, thank you. John, ever the performer. Anyway, um. I never told him this, but since the first time I saw him, I had this huge crush on him." The crowd oohs.

He gapes (and I think again: I love him).

"But the unfortunate thing is that... I have a ton of baggage." I laugh at myself, happy the crowd laughs too so I don't feel awkward. Elijah is closer to the stage, now. "So I let that come between us not long ago. Which was... well. I'm here on a stage apologizing so you can imagine how awful it was.

"I've solved most of it, thankfully. And to be honest, I want to stop apologizing for existing. For being, in essence, human." I swallow hard, and I make eye contact with Elijah to let him know I mean everything. "I'm not sorry for taking the time I needed to do what I needed to do, but I am so damn sorry for letting my issues come between us." I gulp, and the mic receives it embarrassingly. "I'm sure you've noticed I'm quite impulsive... well. I'm sure everyone's noticed. We're practically polar opposites, it's kinda cra— geez, sorry." I laugh awkwardly, and I can't tell if his lip is twitching again or if I'm hallucinating, which hey, I wouldn't put the last one past me. "Ahem. I'm sorry for making you ever think for a second that I don't have that complete trust in you. I do. It's not that I was scared you'd do it, but I was scared that there was a possibility someone I cared about would do that to me again." I pause. "Elijah. I am crazy about you. Like insane. I'm obsessed. I really like you." I hold out my hand to him. "So I want to close the chapter of my past. We may have met because of our grandparents, but I think we're our own people. And I don't think our pasts should change that. So will you come up here with me so we can tell them the story of how we met for the last time?... If you forgive me. Which it's totally okay if you don't. Like I'll definitely probably cry if you don't, but don't feel bad or anything."

I keep talking even though the second I offered my hand, he began walking towards me. I am obsessed with us and with how far we've come, I think now. I'm obsessed with our growth.

The second we have a second alone after the storytime, I hug him.

"When you said to meet in person," he starts, "I didn't think you meant in front of a live studio audience as well."

"I like to subvert expectations," I reply into his shoulder. He squeezes me once more before pushing me back so he can see my face.

And my heart stops when he says: "I love that about you."

"I love everything about you." I sigh. "Thank you for forgiving me."

"Thank you for thanking me," he says.

"Oh fine, because you just have to have the last wo--"

He silences me with a kiss.

● ● ●

Some things are easy to forgive.

Like stepping on someone's shoe as you pass them, or getting pooped on by a bird or stung by a bee (the bee's dead though, so who really won?).

Other things aren't.

But forgiving was, and will continue to be a daily process.

Even as we tell them the story, I can't see any way I can look at the future and not feel my heart break when I think about my father, or what I've gone through.

Maybe ten years from now, I'd think about this exact moment. Maybe I'd cry a little. Maybe I'd laugh at how insane it was that I was still affected.

But at least I'd be trying. Making the choice daily to forgive him would not be easy. It is not easy. But I'm trying.

Now, Elijah is sitting beside me, huddled over the counter by the fridge we've both gotten used to. He's been scribbling on a piece of paper for about five minutes, and wont let me see it.

"Do take your time," I tell him, then check my imaginary watch. "We have all this century."

"Okay, Miss Impatient." He shows it to me.

The first sentence reads: So I met this girl— and curiously, I like her enough to not give a flying hell about the reason her and I began to speak at all. Which I do not entirely remember, admittedly.

His hand is around my waist (where it belongs (I'd like for my waist to be labelled Elijah's when I'm buried, thank you)), and my hand is on his shoulder, and I let out a small laugh as I continue.

Then I read the note again, until the last sentence.

Snatching the pen from his hand, I add at the top: This is The Rosemary and John story (the real story), as told by Josie and Elijah.

Elijah takes it back. He strikes out our names, scribbling under it with a mischievous look.

Then it reads: The Rosemary and John story (the real story), as told by Paramours.

I open my mouth at the big word. Um. "Erm. What does that mean?"

He smiles at me. "Lovers."

I bite my lip. "You know, one day, I'll tell our kids about this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Do they have names?"

"Elijah Jr, Josie Jr, and Number Three." He laughs and I lean into him with a brow raised. "Or... we can have 12 and name them all in the order of the months."

He kisses me. "Only if we want to subject them to bullying."

"We'll just beat the bullies up."

"I'm going to report you."

"If I go down, you're going down with me."

He pulls me so our bodies are together, and crosses his fingers behind my back. I can count the stars in his eyes. "I can live with that," he says.

I grin.

Me too.

[end.]