Page 37 of The Art of Dying

“A what?”

I smiled. “Our version of a complaint department.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re serious. I’d be interested in hearing about it.”

“I’m serious.”

“Kitsch.” She sighed. “You sure you wanna marry me?”

“It’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“Because you love me… not because you miss me, right?”

“What’s the difference? I don’t want to be away from my girl. Not a second more than I have to be.”

“This is nuts.”

“So?”

She laughed. My heart was beating a thousand times a minute. I felt like if I stood up I could sprint all the way to First Sergeant’s Hill and fly right over it.She really isn’t saying no.

“I love you,” she said finally.

“I love you, too. Think about it, Mack. You’d be happy here, I promise.”

“I’ll think about it.”

The line clicked, and I walked into the parlor, placing the receiver on its base. I sighed, interlacing my fingers and resting them on top of my head.

“How’d it go?”

I turned, realizing it wasn’t Kepner’s voice I’d heard.

Sloan was sitting next to him on the couch, enjoying a bowl of popcorn. He tossed one into the air and caught it in his mouth.

“When the fuck did you get here?” I asked.

“Well?” Sloan asked. “Did she say yes?”

“I’m not proposing over the phone,” I scoffed, sitting next to them in a huff.

Kepner turned. “Sloan said you were going to run it past her.”

I stared at the television. It was on mute, probably had been the entire time so they could eavesdrop. “I did.”

“And?” they asked in unison.

I shrugged, trying to hide a smile and failing. “She didn’t say no.”

Kepner and Sloan began their seated, silent happy dances. I leaned my head back, staring up at the ceiling.

Sloan slapped my thigh.

“Ow! Damn it, Sloan!”

“She’s going to say yes,” he said.

Kepner smiled. “We’ll help you move in!”

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