Then I open my eyes and snuff out the candle with a quick little puff of air. All eyes are on me. I bite my lip and wait, heart beating hard. For a second nothing happens. And then everything changes.
It starts gradually, at first a faint glimmer around the edges of my vision, little pops of shimmering gold shooting bright across my field of sight. My breath catches in my throat as the realization dawns on me. I think this is it. It’s finally happening! My heartbeat quickens.
“Emmie?” I hear Mom’s voice from far away.
“Mom?” My voice sounds even more distant.
The colors are getting more intense. The gold shimmers are glowing like sparklers crackling along the edges of my eyesight, growing brighter and brighter. It’s like shooting stars, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. I blink, and when I open my eyes, I do not see Dot or Mom or Gus or Dani. I do not see the heavy wooden beams of the Longboat dining room or the sailboats bobbing on the silver waters of Liberty Bay.
What I see is something else entirely.
I don’t know how long the vision lasts. It feels like only a few seconds, barely enough time to register the scene in front of me, but it feels so real. I don’t just see the image. I taste and touch and smell the moment too. I am living it.
Then from far away I hear someone saying my name, and it feels as though I am being forced backward down a tunnel, back down into my real life once more. I plop back into the presentwith a jolt. When I glance around the booth, Dot, Mom, and Dani are all watching me, silent and wide-eyed.
I catch Mom’s eye and stare at her wordlessly, then nod. She instantly starts to tear up. “Oh, honey,” she whispers, reaching out and grabbing my hand. “See? You didn’t miss it.”
“Wait,” Dot interrupts. “Was that it? Did something happen? Did you see something?”
I nod again, still stunned. Not sure how to even explain what I saw. There must be some mistake. “It’s impossible.” My voice sounds dazed. I take a sip of water, trying to clear my head.
“Why? What did you see?” Dani asks eagerly. Gus is peering up at me curiously, looking a little worried. His mouth is ringed with raspberry jam and whipped cream. He has somehow eaten almost all of his slice of cake already.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” Gus asks nervously, eyeing me. He slips his small, sticky hand into mine.
I look down at my slice of prinsesstårta with the candle stuck in it, the wick blackened, flame snuffed out. “I saw a vision.” I find my voice at last, small and disappointed. “But there’s no way it could be true. I think something went wrong.”
“Why, honey? What did you see?” Mom asks. They all lean forward eagerly.
I shake my head at the absurdity of the situation. I feel so disappointed. I waited all my life for this? For something that is so outside the realm of possibility it’s clear I dreamed it up? It must have been my own wishful thinking. What else could it possibly be? I blink back a prickle of tears behind my eyes, then take a deep breath and tell them what I glimpsed.
“I saw Henry Summers proposing to me.”
There is a long beat of silence. Then Dani pipes up, “Wait, like Henry Summers the TV star? Your celebrity crush?”
“Is he that darling British man who hosts that travel show you like?” Mom asks, puzzled. “The one who goes around the world and finds little family food spots and interviews the owners and explores the history? What’s it called?”
“Savor,” I say miserably. Now I’m feeling embarrassed. I want to sink straight through the floor into the bay. Figures that I’d wait all these years and then my mind would make up an absolutely absurd fantasy in place of my real purpose in life. Ugh. I lean down and rest my forehead on the table. I give up. I’m just going to go through life purposeless. Maybe that’s my destiny.
“Hold on, Emmie,” Mom interrupts. “Can you tell us what you saw?”
I raise my head slightly. Gus scoots near me. He looks worried, his big brown eyes magnified through the thick lenses of his glasses. He squeezes my hand.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he whispers in concern. “Do you not like your cake? Can I have your piece?”
I pull him to me and press a kiss to his head, to the soft little pulse point on his temple. I hold him close for a moment, inhaling him. He smells like raspberry jam and crayons. Already he is wiggling away. I release him, wondering why it is that motherly love feels just a little like heartbreak.
“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, sweet boy.” I force a smile. “And it looks like you’ve already had cake. Do you want to read your book now? Can you find a really crazy space fact for us?” He nods and leans away from me to grab hisWeird but Truebook of facts about the universe from his backpack.
“We need booze,” Dot announces. She waves Freya over and orders us all shot glasses of aquavit. When it comes, she throws hers back without hesitation. I sip mine and grimace. The iconic Norwegian liquor tastes like vodka heavily spiced withbotanicals, chief among them caraway. I slide my glass over to Dot, who downs that one too. She can drink anyone under the table and never seems to feel it.
Dani takes a sip of her shot and whistles. “That will put hair on your chest,” she announces to no one in particular. “No thank you.” She slides her shot over to Dot too. “So, Emmie, tell us what you saw.”
Then Dot, Mom, and Dani all turn their eyes on me, waiting for an explanation.
I tell them about the sparklers, about the pops of brilliant gold color, about opening my eyes and being somewhere else entirely, like I was stepping into another time and place. It felt so real, like I was an invisible observer, standing there watching a few seconds of my life unfold somewhere else entirely.
“I was standing in my own boutique chocolate shop,” I explain. “It was exactly as I’ve imagined it for years.” I shoot a nervous glance at Mom, who smiles encouragingly. “Like the one I used to talk about having someday.”
