—
Maggie and my father settle on the couch, and I adjust the camera slightly, making sure they’re both in view.
“Is it okay if I watch?” Jacob asks. He’s lingering in the doorway, uncertain.
I wave him inside. “Of course.” I glance at Maggie and my father. “That is, if it’s okay with you?”
They agree, and Jacob stands to the side, out of frame.
“You want to come behind the camera?
He nods, moving in that direction, and I take a seat on the chair in front of the couch. “Let’s start with how the two of you met.”
My dad hesitates, looking over at Maggie, then at me. And then he raises his hand.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say with a smile. “You can just talk. Like before.”
Maggie laughs, and my father ducks his head. “Sorry.”
“No,” I say. “You’re doing great. Did you want to start? Or do you want me to try a different question?”
“I can start,” he says. And then he walks us through their story. I’ve heard it now from almost every perspective, but new details emerge with the two of them together. Maggie leans over, interjecting every now and then, and it’s fun to see each of them react to something the other said.
My dad recalls exactly what color sweater Maggie was wearing in the waiting room of the hospital the first time he saw her, and Maggie turns to him, surprised.
“I wear it all the time and you’ve never told me that. I had no idea I was wearing it that day.”
He shrugs. “It never came up. But it’s a nice color on you.”
Her face softens. “Thanks,” she says.
The two of them, together—they’re magic on-screen. There’s a natural rhythm to their conversation, and my father’s more relaxed on camera with Maggie by his side. She pulls something out of him, an ease that he didn’t have before, and soon they’re both telling stories. About their first date, their fifth, their tenth.
They recount the story of their proposal, which I’ve heard from Jacob, but it’s different through their eyes. My father tells his piece, how he felt being wheeled into surgery, how he knew he wanted to wake up to see Maggie. How he wanted to wake up seeing her every day.
And Maggie has to wipe her eyes, a tear falling as she talks about how scared she was that day. How that was the moment she knew she wanted to spend whatever time they had left, together.
I repeat a couple questions I asked them individually, and then I’m done. There’s so much footage from tonight, but I know this is the interview I’ll really end up using.
I’m about to call it a wrap when I peek back at Jacob. He’s watching through the camera screen, his brow furrowed, his teeth pulling on his bottom lip.
“Hey,” I say.
He blinks, his spine straightening.
And I don’t know what makes me ask it—some strange intuition, a subconscious read of his body language. “Do you have any questions you want to ask?”
“Is that—would that be okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “If you want to.” I stand up, offering him my chair. “Floor’s yours.”
Maggie and my father watch our exchange, and Jacob and I switch spots. I check the camera, making sure it’s still rolling.
“I wanted to ask—” Jacob leans forward, his hands on his knees. “I wanted to know how, or when, you realized that how you felt for each other—how you knew it was love.”
My breath catches. It’s a good question. One I should probably add to my rotation, but…is there a reason he’s asking this?
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
