Page 113 of Maybe in Another Life

She starts walking again. Charlemagne and I walk with her. “You know something embarrassing?”

“What?”

“I thought about Jesse on my wedding day. How lame is that? As I was walking down the aisle, I specifically thought,Jesse Flint is already married. So he isn’t the one you were meant to be with.It made me feel better about my decision. I think I figured, you know, Mark really was the best one out there for me that was available.”

I can’t help it. I start laughing. “It’s like you really wanted to get Count Chocula, but someone took the last box, and all they had was Cheerios, so you told yourself, ‘OK, Cheerios is what I was meant to have.’ ”

“Mark is totally Cheerios,” Gabby says. But she doesn’t say it as if she’s in on the joke. She says it as if it’s a Zen riddle that has blown her mind. “Not Honey Nut, either. Straight-up, heart-healthy Cheerios.”

“OK,” I tell her. “So one day, when you’re ready, probably a bit far off into the future, you call Count Chocula.”

“Just like that?” she asks.

“Yep,” I say. “Just like that.”

“Just like that,” she says back to me.

We walk for a little while, and then she points to a series of lights shining in long rows.

“That’s the Urban Light installation I was telling you about,” she says.

We walk closer to it and stop just in front of it, across the street. I have a wide view.

It’s made up of old-fashioned streetlights, the kind that look as if they belong on a studio lot. The lights are beautiful, all clustered together in rows and columns. I’m not sure I understand the meaning behind it, exactly. I don’t know if I get the artist’s intention. But it is certainly striking. And I’m learning not to read too much into good things. I’m learning just to appreciate the good while you have it in your sights. Not to worry so much about what it all means and what will happen next.

“What do you think?” Gabby asks me. “It’s pretty, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I like it. There’s something very hopeful about it.”

And then, as quickly as we came, we turn around and walk back toward the car.

“You’re going to find someone great one day,” I say to Gabby. “I just have this feeling. Like we’re headed in a good direction.”

“Yeah?” she says. “I mean, all signs sort of point otherwise.”

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I think everything is happening exactly as it’s supposed to.”

It’s early in the morning, and Gabby and I have been lying on the floor all night. The sun is starting to break through the clouds, into the windows, and straight onto my eyes. It gets bright so early now.

“Are you awake?” I whisper. If she’s sleeping, I want her to sleep. If she’s awake, I need her to help me get up and pee.

“Yeah,” she says. “I don’t think I slept all night.”

“You could have woken me up,” I tell her. “I would have stayed up with you.”

“I know,” she says. “I know you would have.”

I turn my head toward her and then push my torso up using my arms, so I’m sitting down. My body feels tight, tighter than it ever felt in the hospital.

“I have to pee,” I tell her.

“OK,” she says, getting up slowly. It’s clumsy, but she’s up. I can see now that her eyes are red, her cheeks are splotchy, her skin looks sallow and yellow. She’s not doing well. I suppose that’s to be expected.

“If you can get me up and bring me my walker, I can do it,” I tell her. “I want to do it on my own.”

“OK,” she says. She gets the walker from where we left it by the front door yesterday. She unfolds it and locks it into place. She puts it in front of me. And then she puts her arms under mine and lifts me. It’s sounds so simple, standing up. But it’s incredibly hard. Gabby bears almost my entire weight. It can’t be easy for her. She’s so much tinier than I am. But she manages to do it. She leans me on my walker and then lets go. Now I’m standing on my own, thanks to her.

“OK,” I say. “I’ll just be anywhere from three to sixty minutes. Depending on whether I manage to fall into the toilet.”

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