THE STARS ARE BEAUTIFUL - WATTYS AWARD NEW ADULT WINNER 2019

Callum | 33

WHEN EVERLY ANNE ENTERED classroom 221 at New York Presbyterian Hospital, a shift occurred in the paradigm of many lives. But what hid from our view was the composition of Everly's life. We could have fired every question in our arsenal and never begun to unravel her story. And truthfully, the same could be said about each of us.

The Unknowns of Life are as fragile and misleading as a snow globe. Left alone, it's nice to look at but really quite boring. Shake it up and you chance the glass slipping from your hands—but oh, what a different world it holds, even if just for ten simple seconds.

I'd like to believe that we'd all choose to shake the globe of our lives, but as I sat in Brighton's classroom trying to solve a differential during third year, I learned how fearful most people were when it came to crossing a line. Out of a hundred other students, it was only one lonely, mysterious girl and I who crossed over with the hope and desire to seek something beyond the black and white.

And at first her influence only affected minor parts of my life such as second-guessing my choices, debating hope and faith, and most importantly, learning how to listen. But when you shake up the contents of your life, searching for purpose, mysteries, and wonder, there's no telling what you'll find until it is right before your eyes. The influence of her life eventually bled through every facet of mine until we were infinitely synched with the bond of one precious, teeny heartbeat.As I walked through the doors of Presbyterian Hospital for the first time since I graduated, I had come full circle. I sat in the back of Brighton's class as he led a lecture, admiring the center of the room where Everly Anne and I first met. The feeling of the classroom was too wide open, as if I could breathe. By the end of the class, I went to his desk, and he only glared up at me.

"I came for Everly," I said.

Brighton nodded but looked down to his papers. "When?"

"Sorry?"

"When did she pass?"

"Oh," I replied. "No, sir. Everly is very well. She's... We're married, now."

He glared at me again. "I didn't get an invitation to the wedding. Forgive me."

"It was small, on the Fourth of July. Everly didn't want a big fuss."

"Who walked her down the aisle?"

I shook my head. "I walked with her. It was short. I told you."

"Was Andrew there?" he asked, his eyes darkening.

"It was at our beach home in Montauk. So yes, he was there."

"But not Everly's father," he scoffed.

"Would you have come?" I challenged. "If we'd asked, would you have come to our wedding, Dr. Brighton?"

"Doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"Well, I have one better for you, Dr. Brighton. I came to ask if you'd help with the birth of our baby."

That shut him up.

He rose from his chair, fists on his desk as he leered at me. "You got her pregnant?"

"We're going to have a son. Yes, sir."

"You idiots." He sunk back into his chair. "You damn fools."

"This is why we didn't invite you to our wedding."

"Do you understand con-gen-it-al, Trovatto?"

"I understand that we love each other, and sometimes that kind of love results in creating a child. Are you going to hear my question, or am I beat before I even ask, sir?"