Until my hands were locked around his neck.
He scooped me up and carried me to the bed.
My wrists pinned above my head.
His kisses trailed down my throat, to my
collarbone, lower.
His breath was hot against my skin, his
moans a low rumble in my ear.
<
My body melted against his.
I fumbled with my hearing aid, pulling it out.
My last vestige of control.
He chuckled, his breath warm against my ear,
as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Then his moans grew louder, more
unrestrained.
Even with only one ear, the sounds filled the
room.
The night was still young.
- 26.
After college, Ethan and I got married.
When we came back from our honeymoon.
Mom and Dad had bought a small house in
the suburbs for their retirement.
Worried about their old belongings getting
damaged by movers, they insisted on packing
and moving everything themselves.
Ethan and I went to help.
L
The bottom of a box Mom was carrying
ripped open, spilling the contents across the
floor.
I went to help her gather the scattered items, recognizing my old high school textbooks. My fingers brushed against a leather–bound
yearbook.
On a whim, I opened it.
Each page was filled with messages from my
Northwood classmates, wishing me luck on
the SATS, hoping I’d get into an Ivy League,
and wishing me happiness.
Below were their own dreams for the future.
Half hoping for wealth and beauty, the other
half to become famous musicians or actors.
My finger traced the last entry.
Ethan’s.
Back then, everyone had been passing the
yearbook around, scribbling messages.
The classroom was chaos.
く
I’d been too busy writing my own messages
to read every entry.
This was the first time I was seeing Ethan’s.
His handwriting was bold and messy, just like
him.
Name: Ethan Wilde
Height: 6’2”
Address: Unknown.
His message to me was a simple “Hope you
get into Harvard.”
But at the bottom, under “Aspirations,” he’d
written two words:
“Marry you.”
Bonus Chapter (Ethan’s Perspective):
- 1.
Ethan never told Sarah.
The moment she walked onto the stage and
introduced herself, he knew.
Those familiar eves
<
That soft, clear voice.
“Hi everyone, my name is Sarah. Sarah with
an ‘h‘.”
He remembered a little girl in blue overalls,
tagging along behind him.
“My name is Sarah. Sarah with an ‘h‘.”
He’d become friends with Sarah.
He’d spend all his allowance on candy for her.
“My candy is only for my wife,” he’d say.
He’d known, with a child’s certainty, that a
wife was someone you spent your whole life
with.
Sarah would say, “Then I’ll be your wife.”
Thanks to him, six–year–old Sarah got her
first cavity right before losing her baby teeth.
Seeing her standing there on the stage, in the
maroon plaid skirt and white blouse of the
Northwood uniform.
His heart had skipped a beat.
く
His wife was back.
Someone noticed his stunned expression.
He glared at them and pretended to be asleep
on his desk.
