And, after quite a long delay, the next chapter is up. And I felt it was time to hear a little bit from Tracy, so this chapter is told from her POV. There's a lot of spirituality talk here, but this isn't meant to be a chapter about religion; simply some pondering about the afterlife. I hope you enjoy it!
Theodore: masculine proper name, from Latin Theodorus, from Greek Theodoros, meaning "gift of God", from "theos" (God) + "doron" (gift).
Even though Tracy had a Catholic upbringing, she wasn't all that religious. Her parents were a blend of liberal yet traditional, so they went with the motions of the religion—christenings, first communions—but they were pretty fairweather when it came to practicing its teachings to the letter and attending church.
Despite this, Tracy herself identified as such during her formative school years, particularly in high school. She firmly believe in waiting until marriage for sex, and even held out for two years of dating Max (when they had both moved to New York for college) before she slept with him. And even then, a nervous Tracy went to confession afterwards to admit to her "sin".
And that's when things changed for her. She was in a new city, in a sexual relationship, and, amongst her peers, was being exposed to ideas and opinions other than her own. She very quickly turned to agnosticism instead; she wasn't anti-religion, but was starting to question everything she knew. And she was happy, and no longer wracked with guilt.
But then, a few years later, Max died. And not only did Tracy's physical world get turned upside-down, but so did her spiritual world. She was hurt and confused as she sat next to her parents and brothers in church during her dead boyfriend's funeral service. With Max now gone, she particularly battled with the notion on whether heaven existed.
One part of her didn't think so. But if it didn't, then, where exactly was he? Was he merely worm food? That thought, that there was nothing out there once you died, pained her, scared her. She'd much rather believe that there was some place up there where Max was still with her, smiling down on her; this notion brought her great comfort despite the soul-crushing loss.
So that brought Tracy back to religion. Not in a wacko, born-again way; she still didn't agree with some of the Catholic teachings, and she spent most of her Sunday mornings sleeping in or out to brunch with the girls rather than sitting in a pew, but she found solace in her new spirituality. Maybe this was simply a way of comforting herself with the notion that Max was still around, she wasn't sure. But she was happy to attend church with family during the high holidays, and was no longer wracked with any of that Catholic guilt. She still lived her life on her own terms, and was feeling comfort in her belief in the afterlife. In fact, she spoke to Max often, which was a way for her to cope.
When she was having a bad day, she'd look upwards and vent to him. When she was having a good day, she'd share any and all good news with him. Of course, she did this when she was alone at home; she knew her friends all worried about her after Max's passing, so they would've just thought that this habit was a cry for help. So she kept it to herself; which was fine, since those moments were her private time with Max, anyway.
And she knew, deep down in her heart, that he was looking down on her, and listening.
Tracy sat at the kitchen table, nearly done wrapping Ted's Valentine's Day gift. It was the evening of February 14, and she had managed to convince him to let her take the reigns on their plans for the night. He was visibly disappointed, admitting that he had a whole bunch of great ideas to make their first Valentine's Day together special, but Tracy really wanted to go big for him. After all, she really loved Valentine's Day.
Even after Max's passing, though she no longer had a boyfriend to shower with affection, she adored sending cards and baked goods to her family, friends, co-workers... Tracy had so much love to give and no outlet, so she paid extra attention to all the other people in her life whom she loved.
And then came Lewis. Tracy was happy to have a boyfriend again to enjoy the holiday with, and maybe she had set her hopes up a little too high. Lewis was a nice guy, and he seemed to love her a lot; and he made the effort their first and only Valentine's Day together. Nice flowers, nice dinner, nice sex afterwards. She thought that perhaps she was expecting too much, but quickly realized it wasn't his effort that was the problem. It was simply because he wasn't someone she wanted to spend subsequent Valentine's Days with. It was a sobering realization.
But Ted... he was different. She knew this from the moment they met, that he was someone she could actually, potentially see a future with. When she shared this with Kelly and the girls, her friends told her she was crazy; after all, they pointed out, she literally met the guy 24 hours after turning down Lewis' proposal.
"He's your rebound guy," Kelly told her. "He's cute, has many of the same interests as you, and that's why the appeal is there."
"He'll be a fun summer fling," Julia assured (and encouraged) her. "But he's not the one."
Little did they know how wrong they were, Tracy thought defensively. Because in her heart, she knew: Lewis was her rebound guy, albeit seven years after Max's death. It was curiosity, loneliness and sexual frustration that prompted her to call the number on his business card. Even though it didn't work out, she was at least proud of herself for going out there and purchasing that lottery ticket; it just wasn't a winning one.
And then, boom, there was Ted, the one she was finally ready for. He was the jackpot, fireworks, toy in the Cracker Jack box, and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow all at once.
Sure, she and Ted were eerily similar, something her friends thought was a relationship death sentence. They both had nerdy personalities, they both collected coins, adored the lost art of calligraphy, and enjoyed the Renaissance Faire, among other things. But these were trivial, not an indication of anything other than the fact that they both, frankly, had good taste.
In reality, she and Ted were quite dissimilar. They were both romantic people, but Ted was quite the dreamer when compared to Tracy, the realist. She hated confrontation, but Ted would never hesitate to say it like it is. He was funny, but he had a more serious personality, whereas she was more the joker of the two. He was the yin to her yang; the alpha to her omega. They were two sides of the same coin, and completed each other perfectly.
Hence Tracy's need to do something big for Ted. Sure, she told him and showed him every day how much she loved and appreciated him. But on this, the most romantic day of the year, she wanted to blow his mind; to tell him that he's been a great boyfriend these past nine months and to thank him for everything he's done for her, for turning her life around. Ted's a modest enough guy to say that he didn't do anything special; all he did was "fall, and fall hard", as he would say, and instead thanks her for coming into his life at the right time, keeping him from turning him into a cynic when it came to love and destiny.
Either way, they both had a lot to be thankful for.
Tracy was pulled away from her thoughts when her phone dinged. It was 6pm and, according to her calendar, Ted was an hour into the scavenger hunt she had sent him on, likely picking up his next clue at The Low Point, the club where their yellow umbrella first transferred hands.
She had picked a whole bunch of locations in the city that were special to them, starting with Columbia University, since that's where Ted was finishing off his day of teaching classes. She hid a clue, as per her text to him at 5pm sharp, Under Row M, Seat 3 / In the room where this absent-minded professor first piqued my curiosity.
Other locations with hidden clues included MacLarens, their favourite brunch place, the movie theatre where they first said "I love you", and so on. Ted loved riddles and games, so she knew he'd appreciate the effort. (And, admittedly, it was a lot of effort, from coming up with each clue, to taping them to various spots across the city the previous evening, hoping against hope they'd all still be there when Ted came along. Tracy was going to need a tall drink and a long nap once this Valentine's Day was over.) And according to her calculations, if Ted followed her little riddles correctly, he'd be on top of the Empire State Building by 7pm, where she'd be waiting for him, gift in-hand.
Her gift to him was a no-brainer, and came to her when she least expected it. A few months earlier, she had come home to her apartment after work, only to find Ted waiting for her on the couch, legs stretched out, completely naked. The first thing he said? "Paint me like one of your robots, Tracy," in a mock seductive tone (they had been watching Titanic the previous evening), which made them both convulse with laughter, and then quickly led to a satisfying romp in her living room.
After that, she toyed with the idea of painting Ted as a robot, because he was a nerd and she loved him for that. Not naked—although she did briefly lose her train of thought while imagining Ted's penis as a cool and hard metal rod, probably feeling like the greatest dildo ever—but just to turn his likeness into a robot. And then she had the perfect image in mind.
She peered down at the desktop image on her iPhone, the exact same one that Ted had on his: it was a photo of them, taken sometime during the summer, at Central Park. They had been taking an early-evening stroll before dinner, and Ted had made some off-color joke that she can't quite remember now, but it was something that had offended her. It didn't make her angry, but upset, in that Ted should've known better than to make such a low-brow and offensive joke.
She proceeded to give him the cold shoulder, and Ted continued to apologize profusely. This went on for a bit, until Tracy had clearly forgiven him, but she refused to admit it. Ted, smiling, kept on apologizing, trying to break her resolve. Tracy crossed her arms and did her best not to smile or laugh, sitting on a bench eventually, and turning her back to him. He sat down and sidled up next to her.
Ted whipped out his phone, and took a selfie of the two of them, so she could have "photographic evidence of how sorry I am". The picture that came out ended up being both of their favourite: their cheeks were pressed together, and Ted was looking sideways at Tracy with wide, puppy dog eyes, his lips forming a pout. For her part, Tracy was averting her gaze, but her lips were giving her away: they were in a thin line, but the corners of her mouth were clearly starting to form a smile. (Sure enough, the second Ted took the photo, she burst out laughing.) And all was forgiven.
The photo represented them just perfectly, as the silly and ridiculously happy couple that they were. And it inspired her to paint it up for Ted. Her main concern was to not make the painting look too "cartoony", like her sports-themed paintings did. It took a lot of time and effort to get the painting just right, hiding away in her office on nights she and Ted slept apart, or while he was out with Barney. And the final result stunned even her.
She had done it. She had drawn two robots, male and female, giving them characteristics that made them look more human than machine. Despite their sleet-gray, metal faces, there was a softness to Robot Ted and Robot Tracy. She mimicked their respective hair perfectly, his spikes and her curls, and both their lips were pink and defined. But it was the eyes that made Tracy beam with pride; they were simply uncanny, particularly Robot Ted's. She had drawn them with the same playfulness that they had in the photo, and in person; so much so, it was as if she was actually looking into her boyfriend's eyes.
She got excited. She couldn't wait to show it to Ted—she knew he'd be one of the few people who would appreciate such a gift. And she just loved him for it.
At 7pm, Tracy was waiting for Ted on the 86th floor observatory of the Empire State Building, nervous but excited.
Her final clue pertained to their favourite movie, Sleepless in Seattle, so it only made sense to have her beloved architect meet her on February 14th at the top of the Empire State Building, where a fictional architect played by Tom Hanks met the love of his life: Life imitates art / Meet me where Sam and Annie got their start.
It was a short and simple riddle, but knowing Ted, it would be a cinch.
But when 7pm turned to 7:15 and then 7:30, Tracy looked at her watch and wondered where Ted could be. According to her calculations, he should've been there 30 minutes ago. It was a cold and windy evening; Tracy shivered as she tightened her scarf around her neck and pulled her hat down over her ears.
She craned her neck, trying to spot him among the throngs of tourists; the cold certainly wasn't keeping visitors away. She eventually saw Ted's familiar head of hair making its way through the crowd, craning his neck looking for her. Tracy saw him smile when spotted her.
"I'm so, so sorry, babe," he said when he finally made it to her. "I got distracted by the exhibit on the 80th floor. All those photos and sketches and notes from during Empy's construction..."
Tracy shook her head, amused. She couldn't help but love her nerdy architect.
"It's fine," she said. "I guess it's my own fault for not accounting for that."
"Yes, you should've known better," he teased, leaning in for a kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby."
"Happy Valentine's Day," she said, kissing him back, his lips cold. "Honey, it's freezing out! Why aren't you wearing a hat?"
"My hair excels in the wind," he explained defensively. "I can't cover this head of hair with a hat!"
"Maybe so, but frost-bitten ears aren't exactly sexy."
Ted grinned and leaned in closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. "I'm sure you'll warm them up later tonight, so I'm not too worried," he whispered.
"You'll be getting a lot more than warm tonight," she said slyly. "Because one of your gifts for later is something you've been begging me for months."
Ted's eyes looked confused for a brief second, but quickly widened at the realization. "No..." he breathed out, in disbelief and excitement.
"Yup!" she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, noting a group of young kids nearby. "Me, in the chainmail corset, for one whole minute."
Ted frowned. "One minute? That's it?"
Tracy gave him a look. "Don't be greedy, honey," she told him. "It'll take forever to get in and out of it, which you'll have to help me with—"
"Gladly," Ted said with a grin.
"And that thing can nick me in places where I, frankly, do not want to get nicked. So a minute is all you're getting."
"Fair enough," he said with a laugh. "God, this is pretty much the best Valentine's Day ever! I mean, a scavenger hunt that ends on top of the most romantic spot in New York City? I don't know how I'm going to top this next year, Trace."
Tracy laughed shyly, pleased Ted was so happy, as she had hoped he would be. "You have 365 days to plan it out. Now, come on: we have dinner reservations at 8," she told him, reaching out her hand for him to take.
"Totally," he said, putting his gloved hand in hers. "But first... can we re-enact the final scene of Sleepless, since we're up here? It'll only take two minutes, I promise!"
She knew this was something he'd been wanting to do for a long time; sometimes she wondered who the girl in this relationship was. "Fine," she said, unable to keep herself from smiling, granting him this favour. "But we don't have a Jonah."
"Eh, we can always borrow one of those German schoolchildren over there if need be," he told her with a smile. "Come on, Annie."
"Anything you say, Sam!"
So they went to dinner, enjoyed a nice meal and exchanged gifts, surrounded by other couples doing the same. As expected, Ted loved the robot painting, constantly pulling it out during dinner just to gaze at it.
"Put it away, baby," she told him. "You'll get tomato sauce all over it!"
"Sorry," he said, tucking it away, and reaching out for her hand across the table. "You're just so amazing."
"You're pretty amazing yourself, Ted," she told him in earnest, squeezing his hand. "I hope you know that."
Afterwards, they made their way back to her place, and as promised, Tracy—with Ted's help—got in (and then out) of the chainmail corset, allowing Ted's lust-filled eyes to gaze down on her approvingly. "Best 60 seconds ever," he murmured when his minute was up and Tracy began wincing at a metal ring that was pinching the skin near her pelvic area. "Thanks for this."
"Anytime, honey," she assured him. "But please get me out of this thing now."
He gently helped her out of the costume, the both of them carefully placing it back onto the mannequin. "Until next Valentine's Day," Ted said jokingly, looking at the mannequin longingly and stroking the corset.
Tracy laughed and grabbed his arm, turning him to face her, knowing he'd get over the corset very quickly as she stood naked before him. She kissed him hard, Ted humming approvingly at the intensity of her embrace, giving as good as he got. Tracy's hands began unbuttoning his shirt, while Ted was quick to unbuckle his belt and remove his pants, exposing a pair of sheer black boxer-briefs. "For you," he said simply.
"Nice," Tracy said appreciatively with a grin, pulling Ted with her as she walked backwards towards the bed, falling down and pulling him on top of her.
A short while later, they lay in bed, a mass of twisted limbs and sheets, as Tracy looked over at Ted. His eyes were shut, in his usual post-sex contemplative state, his body facing her, one arm folded under his head, the other draped across her middle, his hand on her hip. A grin was playing on his lips, another piece of evidence that he was presently experiencing post-coital bliss.
Tracy loved him in moments like this. Sex doesn't necessarily have to be involved; she just adored it when he was quiet and vulnerable-looking, allowing her to gaze at his face and body lovingly, the various reasons why she loved him coursing through her mind. His love was such a gift, and she was grateful every day to be on the receiving end of his feelings.
"Pooh bear," she whispered, turning her body to face him, his hand moving along with her, settling on her lower back.
"Hmm?" he acknowledged her, his eyes fluttering open to look at her. "What is it, beautiful?"
She smiled at that, scooting closer to him. "Did you know that Theodore means "gift from God"?" she asked him.
"I did, actually," Ted said with a laugh. "My mom used to call me her gift from God when I was little. Why the etymology lesson, Trace? Admiring this awesome body that God has graced me with?" he joked, pulling away the sheet that was covering his lower half.
She giggled. "Not quite, honey," she told him, grabbing the sheet and covering him back up again, just to bring him down a peg. (She occasionally had to keep his ego in check.) "I was just thinking, how the universe truly gifted me by bringing you into my life."
His eyes softened. Tracy could see the look in his eyes, the way he always got when she spoke so openly to him as she was doing now. She could see them glistening, happy and solemn all at once, the hand on her lower back now pushing her closer to him, her body against his. She draped one of her legs over his thigh for added closeness.
"So you think it was God's doing?" he asked softly, his hand now running through her hair.
"I don't know," she admitted shyly, reveling at the feel of his fingers in her strands. "God, the universe, destiny... Just that there must've been a hand up there that brought you to me."
Ted kissed her forehead and chuckled, Tracy feeling the reverberations of his laugh all the way down to her toes. "You sound just like me, babe," he told her.
She laughed along with him. "What can I say? Maybe your hyper-romantic self is rubbing off on me."
"Rubbing off," he repeated with a grin, moving to kiss her throat, rolling his hips forward and pressing his member against her core.
"Teeeed!" she said with a laugh, pushing him away and trying to not to let her sudden arousal distract her. "Stop acting like a 12-year-old; I'm trying to be serious here."
"Sorry. I'll be good," he vowed. "Do you want to hear my theory?"
"I don't know," Tracy said, suspicious, raising an eyebrow. "Do I?"
She thought he was teasing her at first, but as he wrapped both his arms around her now, taking a nervous sigh before he spoke up, she knew he was being serious.
Ted paused for a long time, and Tracy put a reassuring hand on his chest. "You can tell me," she said.
He looked down at her, his eyes sincere as he said: "I think it's Max."
Tracy was taken aback—she certainly wasn't expecting that. Ted must've felt her body flinch, as he gave her middle a reassuring squeeze. She wasn't sure how to react to that. "Wh-why do you think that?" she asked him.
He hesitated; she could see the ongoing conflict, likely worrying that what he'd say would upset her or bring forth a rush of emotions. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just... I feel that maybe, the moment he passed away, it may have set off a chain reaction, starting our journey towards each other."
Tracy knew that Ted believed in destiny, that everything in life—good and bad—happened for a reason. But she was still a bit shocked to hear that Ted had clearly given this a whole lot of though.
"I mean, maybe it's not a coincidence that he passed away the night Marshall and Lily got engaged," he continued, seeming to be choosing his words carefully, hesitantly. "Which was the same night I realized that I was ready to meet "the one". So I think that was the night the universe decided that we had to meet."
He said this so earnestly, it was easy to believe his theory. "And I feel, since that day, Max has been making sure our paths crossed all these years—St. Patrick's Day, the umbrella, Cindy—for us to make it to this point," he finished, looking away. "I know it probably sounds stupid..."
"It doesn't, Ted," she told him softly, reaching for his cheek and gently turning his face towards hers. She leaned forward to press her lips to his, tears welling up in her eyes. She pulled the sheet away and crawled on top of him. "It doesn't sound stupid at all," she assured him, as he held onto her hips as she lowered herself on top of him.
Afterwards, Ted was sound asleep beside her, while Tracy lay awake, his words from earlier still on her mind.
Could this—she and Ted— be Max's doing? How she wished she could ask him, much like when she used to look up and talk to him on a daily basis. This time, though, she actually wanted an answer, some sort of confirmation.
Tracy realized that she hadn't spoken to Max since that night she said goodbye to him, nine months earlier. Perhaps, she wondered, Max's spirit had been waiting for that moment, for her to finally let go of him, deeming her ready to finally meet Ted the next night?
Max had told her once, many moons ago, after she had a rough day at one of her classes and an even rougher evening at her part-time job, and she was feeling particularly grumpy and inconsolable: "I would do anything in this world and beyond, Tracy, to make sure you're nothing short of the happiest woman in this world."
Tracy glanced over at Ted now, who was curled up against her, his warm breath on her shoulder. She smiled, and lifted the covers to his chest. She felt safe; she felt loved; and she knew that she was completely and utterly happy, happier than she'd been in the longest time. Maybe Ted was right: perhaps all this was Max's doing. Her heart warmed at the idea that Max was true to his word after all.
She wasn't sure if Max was still around or if he was listening. Maybe his work eight years in the making was finally over, and he'd gotten his wings like Clarence; perhaps, mission accomplished, his spirit was now comfortably resting in peace somewhere. Nonetheless, Tracy's eyes ventured upwards, in case he was hanging around. "Thank you, Max," she whispered.
Outside, the cold winter air was blowing with great intensity, the bare tree outside Tracy's bedroom window tapping at the glass frenetically. And, in an instant, the night was still.