Chapter 41 - The Light We Lost

There are certain events in a person’s life that feel like turning points, even as they’re happening. September 11th was a turning point in my life. Your moving away was another. And Christmas with Darren was a third. We’d been together not quite a year and a half at that point, but I knew then that we would get married. Not necessarily right away, but I knew it would happen—unless something unexpected happened instead. Unless you happened, actually. I always imagined you were the only person, the only thing that could stop me from marrying Darren. I wondered if that meant I shouldn’t marry him, but I also knew then that I couldn’t have you, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him. And I loved him—I love him—really and truly. Just not the same way I loved—love—you.

I still dream about you—I’ve told you this—I have ever since you left. You and I are in Central Park having a picnic, or in a hotel room, or apple picking. Sometimes the dream is about something we actually did together, and sometimes it isn’t. But it always ends with you pulling me toward you, our bodies pressed together, our lips meeting—and then I wake up, my heart racing, feeling so guilty for thinking about someone else when I’m in bed with Darren, even all these years later. I’ve tried so hard to stop them, but they still come.

Do you dream about me? Are you dreaming about me right now?

•   •   •

ONE MORNING, right around my twenty-sixth birthday, I saw a picture you took in the New York Times. Pakistanis protesting civilian casualties from a drone strike. Pakistanis, not Iraqis. You had moved. You’d moved to a brand-new country and you hadn’t told me.

I dreamed about you that night, but that dream was different. We were walking through Times Square, and a rush of tourists came. My hand was torn out of yours; we got separated and I was looking for you all over. I was panicked in the dream, and I must’ve called out to you, because the next thing I knew, Darren was shaking my shoulders and saying, “You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, Lucy.”

I woke up sweaty, the panicked feeling still there.

“What was it?” Darren asked. “You were saying ‘gave.’ What did you give?”

I shook my head. “I . . . I don’t know,” I stammered. But, of course, I knew I wasn’t saying “gave” at all.

Darren got me a glass of water, then climbed back into bed and held me close to him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here. I’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

I wrapped my arms around him but knew that no one could keep that kind of bad dream away. I stayed up a long time after that and finally fell back to sleep as the sun was coming up.

That day at work I e-mailed you. Haven’t heard from you in a while, but saw that you’re in Pakistan. Loved the photograph. Are you there for a while?

The response came quickly. Hey Luce! So nice to hear from you. Hope you’re doing well. Have been in Pakistan for a few months, but they asked if I’d transfer here officially. I’m thinking about saying yes. I’ll probably be in the States again this summer. Hope we can get together then. I keep an eye out for It Takes a Galaxy whenever I travel. Your team has been doing great work. Still love that Galacto.

Do you remember sending that? I was so glad you did. Knowing that you hadn’t moved without telling me made me feel calmer, as if the world were spinning at the right speed again. But really, I’m not sure why it mattered so much to me. I guess I wanted to still be important to you, to be the person you wanted to share news with, even if you weren’t that person for me. Some psychologist would have fun with that one.

What you didn’t tell me then was that you’d met a journalist—Raina—who was reporting from Islamabad, and that was why you were thinking about moving. I’m not sure how I would have felt if I’d known that just then. Honestly, I think I’m glad you didn’t tell me.