Alex clutched too tightly at the book in her lap, as if she needed to protect it, as if it might be taken from her. This particular copy had been a gift from Emily, months ago, when Ethan had first passed (it had been a long time before she'd read it, but had ultimately understood why Emily had given it to her as she found some solace in the Tralfamadorian mantra.)
She kept shooting glances at Emily, trying not to be too obvious, but looking to her all the same as they sat listening to the other women in the book club deride a novel that meant so much to the both of them.
"I just couldn't get into it..." one woman remarked, followed by several nods of agreement.
The next woman chimed in, "And the main character is so unlikable... 'I'm a scrawny nerd', 'I'm a shitty optometrist', 'No one believes I time travel'," she mimicked, followed by a burst of laughter from the group.
Alex hummed a little note as she stared down at the book in her lap. "A character doesn't have to be likeable to be relatable," she said softly, almost like she didn't know she was going to say it. When she looked up, finding everyone's eyes on her, her cheeks pinked and she immediately back-tracked, "Oh, umm...nevermind."
A beat.
The other women turned to Emily. "What did you think, Em? Afterall, it was your selection..."
Emily didn't look at the woman who asked the question, gaze never leaving Alex's. "Actually," she said slowly, "I'd be interested in hearing Alex's thoughts."
Alex offered her a faint, but grateful smile. "I think, in an odd way, I can relate to Billy Pilgrim..." She could feel several dubious stares on her and one very compassionate gaze. "He feels unanchored and inconsequential. Like nothing he does matters to the people he cares about. He's looking for something that gives his life – himself – meaning. He finds that on Tralfamadore, with Montana. When someone says 'So it goes' it reassures him that his life is more than just that." She was silent for a long moment, then uttered, "I think, on some level, we're all searching for that kind of reassurance."
Emily's smile was soft, her eyes lingering on Alex. "Many people need desperately to receive this message: 'I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone,'" she quoted.
One of the women, with furrowed brows, began flipping through the book.
"It's not in there," Alex said, gaze locked on Emily's. "It's from Timequake."
Alex leaned against her car, breathlessly explaining, "But then he seems to be saying that the only thing of any true value is found within, so...in that sense, happiness is..." It seemed like if she were to stop talking, the moment would be over and Emily would be gone and she'd be forced back to the real world where she was alone and nothing made sense.
"You are my happiness," Emily said, interrupting her explanation, voice barely a breath, barely anything at all.
Alex glanced over her shoulder, back towards the house where laughter spilled out the open windows. "Em, shh..."
Emily's smile was soft, sad. "You're a beautiful flowering tree and I'm a tired bird searching for my nest."
On a shaky sigh, Alex said, "Oh, Em..." Every time Emily spoke, it felt like someone gripped tighter and tighter to Alex's heart until she couldn't breathe and it was all she could do to hold tight to that moment before it was gone forever.
"It's getting harder and harder to share you," she whispered. It wasn't necessarily the wisest thing she'd ever said, but it seemed like whenever Alex was around, the only thing that mattered was making the moment last as long as possible. But, seeing the look that flitted across Alex's face, she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "Nevermind."
Alex closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. "Ethan only just..." She trailed off, shook her head. "And we're still taking care of my mother – I thought it would only be for a few months, but..."
"I can still smell you on me," Emily murmured, reaching for Alex's hand.
Alex moved her hand out of reach with a cautious glance over her shoulder, given that they were out in the open where anyone could walk by and see. "There's just a lot of things to consider, that's all..."
Emily nodded sadly. "It's just really hard," she said.
One of the women from the book club approached then. "What's so hard?" she asked, totally oblivious to what she'd just interrupted.
There was a moment of awkward silence, then Alex lied, "I was thinking that maybe next month we could read a classic – like Moby Dick..."
The woman's nose crinkled in distaste. "Oh, no thank you. Good call, Emily."
"Some ships sail from their ports and are ever afterwards missing," Emily quoted. Then, with one last glance at Alex, she turned and walked away.
Alex just couldn't bear to go home, to all that pain, all that emptiness... She needed time, space to breathe, to think.
She pulled her car off the road, into the parking lot of the botanical gardens. It was the one and only place that she and Emily had been on a real date. Emily knew the caretaker and he'd let them in after hours. Alex could still remember the feel of Emily's breath tickling her skin as she trailed kisses along her throat. The scent of Emily's skin and the flowers. The way her entire world felt right in that moment.
Clutching the book Emily had given her that morning to her chest, she found the tree under which they'd sat and told each other they loved the other and settled on the ground to read.
On the front cover, Emily had written, "I was showing my students how to make blackout poems and I realized all these love poems are about you..."
"De votre corps, le temps passe à l'intérieur de nous
La nuit, l'espace, la terre passent
Un son vague
Dans votre âme, la joie est née
Avec le baiser d'amour, ta sein, ta luxure..."
