“Yeah, I don’t really like to think of death at all,” I reply truthfully.
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, and then Luke breaks the silence. “I think you’re supposed to save the death discussion until at least the third date.” We chuckle halfheartedly and Luke rolls onto his back again.
Trying to lighten the mood, I ask, “What were our names?”
“Our names?” Luke says, sounding confused.
“Yes, our names. Elsetime. When we were madly in love and married and all that.”
“It sounds so cheesy when you say it like that.” Luke looks away for a few seconds, and I imagine that he’s blushing, but I can’t be sure.
“No,” I say quickly. “I like it. Don’t be embarrassed.”
He looks back into my eyes and we’re locked there for a few moments. And then, before I can worry about what he’s doing, Luke leans over and kisses me. Barely there at first, then more purposeful, the kiss is soft and electric at the same time. It’s so perfect that, before it’s over, I’m heartbroken that I won’t remember it.
When we part, Luke’s eyes stay on mine. The moment is more intense than even he knows; I look away.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Was that bad?”
Quickly, I meet his gaze again. “No!” I say a little too loudly. “Not at all. It was amazing.” I’m glad to be in the dark; I can feel my face flush.
“Good,” Luke says. “Because I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” I reply with a grin. Maybe it’s the acknowledgment of the situation, but at once I feel silly. Luke might, too: he eases onto his back again, careful to leave room for me to cuddle close.
There’s an awkward silence again.
Until I throw a rock through it.
“So elsetime… I think my name was Heloise. Or Elizabeth. No, I’ve got it. I was Caroline.”
Luke waits a beat, and then joins the game. “That’s a good one,” he responds earnestly. “And I was Benjamin.”
“Or William,” I interrupt.
“Oh yeah, that’s good, too. I was William. I was a stonemason.”
“Of course you were. And I was a housewife raising our three children: Eliza, Mathilda, and…”
“Rex, after our pet dinosaur.”
“REX?” I screech. All of the happy nervousness jumps out of me at once; I burst out laughing and can’t stop. I am delirious. Luke laughs with me for a minute and then calms himself and stares in awe as I curl into a ball and nearly hyperventilate. By the time I’ve composed myself, I have tears streaming down my cheeks, and my stomach muscles ache.
“That funny, huh?”
Residual giggles sneak out of me as I unfold myself and smooth the blanket back across my legs. “Pretty funny,” I agree. “Or maybe I’m just easily amused.”
“Cheap date,” he teases. I lean over and playfully punch him with my left hand, which he grabs and holds for safekeeping.
“You’re surprising,” I say, looking to the sky.
“How so?” he asks.
“Most guys don’t make up stories like that,” I say quietly, thinking of the boys and men I will encounter in my lifetime. “Especially not guys who look like you.”
“Well, most girls who look like you are prom queens,” Luke says, matching my tone. “But you seem to avoid the spotlight. You have one good friend, and you do your own thing. I like that about you.” He kisses my knuckles and it sends a spark through me.
“Where did we live?” I ask softly, gently removing my hand so that I can lie flat and get comfortable. I scoot even closer to his side, if that’s possible. “Let’s see… I believe we lived in… Ireland.” I’ve answered my own question.
“Oh, right,” Luke agrees, clearly okay heading back to make-believe. “And we farmed potatoes.”
“We were busy,” I murmur, feeling exhausted. The emotions, the laughter, the warmth of Luke’s body, it’s all weighing me down now.
“Yes, we were. Very, very busy.”
“I had red hair,” I continue, so comfortable I feel like I’m in my own bed. Of course, Luke wouldn’t be there with me, so I’m glad I’m here.
“You have red hair now,” he says.
“I think I’ll always have red hair.”
“I hope so. It’s one of the best things about you.” Luke’s words are garbled and I’m spellbound by the even tone of his voice and the vast blackness of the universe above.
“Thanks.” I speak in a barely audible tone.
Luke’s breath is even now, and mine falls into step with his. I am thankful for this day, this boy beside me, and this blanket keeping us warm.
A distant question forms in the depths of my mind.
What time is it?
The question is fleeting, flitting, pushed aside by a more prevalent and wonderful thought: I think I’m falling in love.
No, I know I am.
I’m falling in love with Luke.
I close my eyes from the sheer mass of it all, just for a moment.
For a few moments.
For a while.
And now, I’m in Ireland.
I’m in the Ireland I’ve seen in movies, at least. Standing in a gargantuan green field with a short stone wall marking perimeters too far off to reach, I know this is our land, Luke’s and mine. The tiny stone cottage behind us with the smoke billowing from the chimney is ours, too. Beside me, Luke wears a thick ivory wool sweater and a plaid scarf, and he smokes a pipe.
Since when does Luke smoke a pipe?
More important, what are we doing in Ireland?
Most important, why is that Tyrannosaurus rex charging toward us, teeth bared and hungry?
Oh no.
Oh NO!
No no no no no!!!!!
This can’t be happening.
Somehow, from deep in my consciousness, I realize that I’m asleep. I know this sweater-wearing, smoking, Irish Luke is not the real Luke, the one that already I can’t remember. The thought of him is barely out of reach, but it’s gone nonetheless. Like something you were going to say but forgot and can’t quite grasp again.
I reach into the pockets of my dream apron and search frantically for the note that I haven’t left myself. It’s not there in my dream; it will not be there when I awaken.
There is no note.
There will be no memory.
Real Luke is gone.
18
“WHERE AM I?” I shout, terrified.
I sit up and pull the blanket to my chest. Whose blanket is this?
I take in my surroundings.
I’m in a van.
I’m in a van with a strange guy.
I strain my neck to peek out the window and realize that I’m in the middle of nowhere. In a van! Rapists drive vans! Wondering if I’ve been violated, I concentrate on my private parts for any indication of wrongdoing. The parts seem to have remained private, but I can’t be sure.
Hysteria creeps through my veins and I scream again, louder this time. “WHERE AM I?”
The stranger startles awake.
“Huh?” he croaks, staring at me like I’m crazy. He blinks his eyes a couple of times, and then shakes his head like he’s waking from a bad dream.
