Page 125 of Any Port in a Storm

The world falls away as my heart picks up its pace, and a hundred sets of virtual eyes come to rest on me. Nick weaves his fingers through mine and squeezes, tears glistening in the morning light. “Thank you,” he whispers.

I steel my nerves. I can do this. For him.

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Connor. This is “Remember,” by Christina Georgina Rossetti.” I take a deep breath, then let the words sweep me away.

“Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far that you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.”

A smattering of small sobs draws me back to the present; to my apartment, and this truly surreal moment. To Nick’s hand in mine, his wet cheek against my neck as he leans in for a hug.

“Thank you, Laurel. That was lovely.” Nick’s mom dabs at her eyes.

I nod, unsure what to say. For someone so in love with words, I’m left with precious few this time.

After the memorial ends, I make Nick some lunch, then suggest we take a walk. “Okay,” he agrees. “A walk sounds nice.”

The sun is bright overhead, the city’s proud townhouses dressed in their springtime best with colorful flowers dotting their steps. Shadows filter through the branches of the tree-lined streets, and, if the day hadn’t started out on such a somber note, I’d almost say today was glorious.

Nick’s quiet as we walk, but his face has lost some of its pallor. His eyes look a little brighter, too, out here in the light of day.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask when we get to the river.

He casts me a rueful glance. “Everything.”

“Yeah.” I rub his shoulder. “I know exactly what you mean.”

We sit in silence together, elbows touching, watching the boats on the water. It may be an hour; it may be two. I lose track of time completely as we slip away into a state of pure existence, side by side.

After a while, Nick speaks. “So, how’s your job search going?”

“Oh,” I reply, taken aback. “We don’t have to talk about that right now.”

“It’s okay. I want to.” He pushes a flop of hair off his forehead. “Honestly, I could use the distraction.”