“What’s a jersey?”
“My hockey shirt. It had our logo—my lucky number... and my name.”
“Oh, that. I do remember it. The material was too strange. If anyone stumbled on it, there would be questions for months, if not years. I couldn’t risk it. It would draw too much attention.”
He understood the logic but still gave her a look of mock horror. “How can you be a Regals wife if my jersey is stuck in shit? You’re supposed to want to borrow it because Iamthe shit.”
“I won’t apologize for not fully understanding what you are saying,” she said crisply. “I stand by what I did to protect you and I’d do it all over again.”
“I just wish I could’ve seen you wear my jersey one time. Nothing else.” He squeezed her hand as they resumed walking. “Just the jersey.”
“This seems like a very primitive sensibility, like wanting me to wear the fur of an animal you’ve hunted.”
“Maybe it is, in a roundabout way.”
A light fog drifted between the trunks of the trees. It wasn’t dense enough to obscure the moonlight, but its presence lent the forest an eerie, ethereal quality. The rustling of nocturnal creatures fleeing added to the atmosphere of secrecy and danger.
Their conversation dwindled to a hush, and they clung to each other’s hand with increasing intensity. As they ventured further, the trees began to thin, eventually yielding to the expanse of the meadow.
Tuck’s heart quickened as he noticed Lizzy’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of the pond. Her hand trembled in his.
“You okay?”
“No. You?”
“Not at all.” He stopped and faced her. “We don’t have to do this.”
She shook her head. “We do. You cannot remain here. It is not prudent. Should your illness resurface and there be no means to procure the assistance you require, the burden of guilt would destroy me. Moreover, there is your sister to consider. As you’ve mentioned, you are essentially her sole family. And then there is your hockey, a pursuit I must confess I still do not comprehend, but I am aware of its significance to you.”
His throat was so tight it felt like he was choking. “I’m not going to ask you to come.”
“Please...” Her voice hitched. “Don’t.”
“I know this is your home. You have your friends. Your life. Your dreams. I’m not going to ask you to leave everything and everyone you’ve ever known.”
“This feels like a test.” Her eyes shone with tears. “It’s as if I’ve received this gift that I’ve always wanted, and here I am ready to open it. I still want it—I do—I want it with all my heart. Except I want another gift too. Us. And so now I’m just greedy.”
“No.” He pulled her to him, hugging her tight. “Don’t talk like that about yourself.”
“I want to live so many versions of my life. But I can only have one. And I need to choose me. This is my world. And you have given me a true gift. My freedom.”
“You’ve given it to yourself,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I’m just the guy who has to disappear.”
“You are...” Her voice trembled as she trailed off, wiping her eyes. “You are the first person who has ever seen me, all of my parts, the good and bad, and didn’t turn away or ask me to be someone else. You have taught me what it truly means to open one’s heart to another. It’s a lesson I never fully grasped until now. Even though you are bound for a place so distant, where I will cease to exist, I know there will always be a part of you within me. And I dearly hope that I will remain with you as well.”
“Lizzy.”
“Go now.” She folded her arms as if holding herself together. “Please. Let us not prolong farewells. It’s time.”
“Fuck time.” He stepped forward and lifted her chin, searching her face. “I’m never going to forget you.” He kissed her softly, trying to commit her taste to memory.
“Please.” She put her hands on his chest and gave a small push. “Please.”
He knew she was asking him to go. But also, there was so much else. So many things that they hadn’t said. So many things that they hadn’t done.
“My time with you has been unforgettable,” he said.
“And now it’s over.” She forced a laugh. “But we did have fun.”
