"Oh! Scotty, what's this?" Eyes twinkling with amusement, voice a delighted near-squeal.
"A goldfish. What does it look like?"
"Only you."
"It only cost twenty five cents, 'Lisa. The bowl you're gonna put it in cost more."
"Thank you, Scotty."
You turned pink. "Y-you're welcome."
"I'm going to name him Bruce."
"Bruce?"
"As in Wayne."
Don't look down.
I wonder if she said that to herself. Don't look down. For different reasons. Oh, God, she's in that box, don't look down. Just breathe, in and out, good work. You can do it. Don't think about it. Happy thoughts. You can do this. Depersonalize.
"Where are we going?"
"A surprise."
"Scottttt-yyyyyyy."
"Whatttttt-yyyyyy?"
Giggles. "Don't mock me."
"Don't mo-ock me."
"Scotty."
"What?"
"Where are we going?"
"Ain't tellin', I told you."
"Can't you just gimme a hint?"
"Okay. One hint."
"I'm waiting."
"'Somewhere else. Not here.'"
Squeals. "REALLY!"
"Maybe."
"ReallyreallyreallyreallyreallyREALLY?"
"Really, you nutcase."
"We'rereallygoingtoseeitinarealtheaterinNewYork?"
"You sound like a psycho."
"IknowbutohGoddoyouknowhowmuchthismeanstome?"
"I love you, Psychopath." You laughed.
Don't think. Just go. Don't look down. Walk up there, sing, go back to your seat. Don't look down. You can do it. Just breathe.
"Elisa told me once that if she died before me, she'd…" Swallow that lump, take it like a man. "She would want me to sing at her funeral. So…uh…" you can do it. You can do it. Just breathe. "So, uh…I'm going to sing. I picked this song, because when we went and saw this play, this play, this…play." No use crying now. Deal. Do this, for her. "This play in New York, she thought it was the most…beautiful…thing…she'd…ever…heard." She was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"You're just saying that to get into my pants."
"What if I am?"
"It's going to take more than that, Romeo."
"I love you, Elisa."
"More than that, too. How do I know you're serious?"
You kissed her forehead. "Let's go out."
There. It's over. It's over. I can't breathe. Oh, it hurts. Get a hold of yourself. Don't look down, you blithering moron. Weren't you going to break up with her anyway? No. I was just telling Chris that. I loved her. I love her. I can't breathe. Take a deep breath. The worst is over now.
"I want out of here."
"I know."
"You have no idea."
"I'm sorry. So sorry."
"Take me home." Voice so thick with medication that it's not even hers anymore. "I'm…"
"You're what, sweetheart?"
"Tired, Scotty."
"Go to sleep."
"Take me home."
"I will. Don't cry. I will. I promise."
You held her until she was asleep, then you went to McGinty's to track down Christina Rush.
"All my life, I've longed to discover something as true as this is, so with a thousand sweet kisses, when you're cold and you're lonely…"
The familiar song is playing as my father, her brother, her cousin Shawn and I take the heavy box down the slippery steps, seems to be mocking you. 'Why couldn't you be more like Collins?' it demands. 'You failed her.'
At the folk music festival with her family.
"Scotty?"
"Mm."
"Hold me forever. I don't ever want the summer to end." Voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of the festival.
"I'll cover you."
Sleepy smile. "Love you."
"Love you more." But she was already drifting off to sleep.