It was warm but breezy as I walked down my driveway. The relief from the sweltering heat signaled the beginning of fall, the season of death. Already leaves had fallen on the asphalt and crunched under my feet as I walked, and at every gust of wind they were blown around and went skittering in all directions. I watched them as I walked, and listened to the quiet, clattering music they made as they danced, then, as the wind quieted, fell together and lay in a pile.
I wrapped my jacket more tightly around me, keeping my head bowed as I got closer to the road. There was barely any traffic at that time of night, but still I peered out past the overgrown rosebushes and forsythia to check for cars. The light of the full moon illuminated the road all the way down to the fork and made the houses alongside it look pale and ghostly. My street looked like another world at night; not a soul breathed or moved except for feral cats and other silent creatures of the dark.
I took another breath and scurried across the road, my footsteps too loud in the silence. As I reached the other side, I found myself panting, not in exertion but in fear, and, as I clutched a tree for support, I scanned my surroundings wildly, expecting to see either a neighbor’s raised eyebrows or a dark stranger wearing a ski mask.
“Grace.”
I whipped around and saw Robby sitting on a tombstone, little Robby who I trick-or-treated with in elementary school, but now he looked more like the big Robby I went to senior prom with. He was lean and muscular, just like he was in high school, but now his dark hair was shorter. I couldn’t see them from so far away, but my imagination showed me the playful sparkle of his blue eyes. He smiled and I could almost see the gleam of his teeth.
I started as I realized how long I had been staring at him and smiled in embarrassment. I took a few crunchy steps toward him and he did the same, and we met in clear spot where the moonlight found its way through the trees and cast a deathly pallor on our faces. He looked older, and sadder. The harshness of life must have finally caught up with him.
I reached out and touched Robby’s face and felt the light coat of stubble on his cheek. He put his hand over mine and leaned into it, smiling faintly as he looked at me, his gaze darting over my face as he tried to read my expression. I just leaned close and closed my eyes, and then he was kissing me. His lips moved on mine and it felt just as good as I remembered, and his hands were at my waist and in my hair, pulling me close and holding me, then I was wrapped in his arms and snuggling into his shoulder and crying.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“I missed you so much,” I whispered back, the tears coming in full force now. But they weren’t the relieved and happy tears that came when everything was going to be alright. No, these were the sad and frustrated tears of loving something but not being able to have it.
“I missed you too,” he said. With a final gentle squeeze he released me and used the soft pad of his thumb to wipe the moisture from my cheeks. “But everything’s going to be okay now. We can finally be together.”
“No we can’t,” I whispered in a shaky voice. I could feel my eyes getting wet again. “I have a family to think about. My husband, and my little boy…Little Ben needs a family to grow up in…”
“You’ve said that to me before, don’t you remember? But Ben is all grown up now so you don’t need to protect him any more. He’ll do just fine without you.” Robby held my face in his hands, gently brushing away all of the new tears. His voice became hushed. “Do you remember the last time you saw me?”
“Of course I do,” I answered, “it was during the summer after graduation, right before—” No. That wasn’t right. Robby was still holding my face and studying it, and as I watched him watching me, I remembered.
“You moved into the house across the street.” It was half question, half statement. Robby nodded. “And we…” I lost myself in the memory of sneaking out in the middle of the night with only the moon lighting my path. Robby was there in the cemetery waiting for me. He smiled at me and I smiled back, and, with only that small signal, we tiptoed together to his house and through the back door. I remembered the warmth of his body all around mine and how he looked so peaceful when he slept.
And the last time I saw him…I was yelling. My husband found out, and poor little Ben, he would have to grow up with divorced parents. Robby was backing away from me as we fought, heading toward the safe haven of his home across the road. I was saying how much I hated him and how I never wanted to see him again, and there was the blaring of a car horn as it came around that bend too fast, and Robby turned his head a second too late.
My eyes were brimming with tears again as I came back to the present. Robby was smiling, his eyes a little wet, too. “You remember.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” he replied simply.
“Are you a ghost?” I asked. “How are you here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said simply. “I knew when it was your time you would come back here, so I’ve just been sitting here, waiting.”
“My…time?” I didn’t look at him. “So does that mean—”
“Come see for yourself.” He walked over to the tombstone he had been sitting on and I lagged behind. Leaves crackled angrily under my feet and the wind breathed ominously. Robby was smiling as I stood beside him and saw my tombstone for the first time. “Grace Ann Keller. Born October 27, 1987. Died October 5, 2052.”
I gasped and leaned against Robby for support. He wrapped his arm around me and kissed my forehead. “You had a good life,” he told me. “You did everything you ever wanted to do. You might not remember now, but you will eventually.”
I was barely listening to him. My mind was still processing the sudden turn of events, its wheels turning slowly but surely. Suddenly, it dawned upon me: I was done. There was no need for worry or anxiety because my life was over. There was nothing left to have stress about, nothing left to even think about. It was only me and Robby now, forever.
I turned to the tombstone beside mine. “Robert Collin Edwards. Born July 23, 1986. Died October 24, 2017.”
“You waited a long time for me,” I whispered.
“It was worth it,” he whispered back.
I reached up for another long kiss, then pulled away. With a smile, I said, “I can’t remember yet, how did our son turn out?”
“Ben is perfect,” Robby said with a smile. He kissed me again, and I thought again of how it would be me and him, forever. Because some people are just meant to be together.
