Epilogue
Christina
One Year Later
I finish shooting a text off to Robyn, my new boss at Epsilon Media, before stepping into the lobby of the apartment building where Aaron and Ilive.
I keep referring to everything about Epsilon as ‘new’ even though I’ve already been there for three months, but seeing as I learn about a dozen things there every single day, the novelty of the job has yet to wearoff.
During the past year of advertising school—my final one— I decided to stop chasing after firms and to work so hard on my freelancing that by the time I graduated, I’d have firms chasing afterme. I enlisted Aaron as a business partner, and his photography helped propel things to the next level. With loyal clients that would follow us wherever we went, and a reputation for innovation, Epsilon was practically begging both Aaron and I to join their team when we finishedschool.
We now work just a few offices away from each other in their headquarters. I thought we might get sick of seeing each other so much, especially after we made the leap of moving in together, but I still feel a little thrill every time I see him walk into the room with a smirkon.
It’s also often accompanied by the urge to wipe it off his face with a sucker punch after he makes some kind of stupid joke, but I guess that’s one part of our relationship that’s never going tochange.
He’s already home when I walk through the door of our apartment. I can hear him crashing around the bedroom and my stomach rumbles when I smell what has to be pizza coming from thekitchen.
“I got delivery,” he calls. “I figured we wouldn’t really have time tocook.”
“You meanyouwouldn’t really have time to cook,” I shout back. “You just started packing now, didn’tyou?”
He just keeps tossing things around the bedroom and I know I’m right. We have to leave for the airport in an hour, and while my suitcase has been sitting ready for the past two days, Aaron probably hasn’t evenfoundhis own suitcaseyet.
We decided to mark the one year point since Aaron’s spontaneous trip to Portugal by going back to visit the country again. We didn’t really get an opportunity to travel last year, and there are still so many places I haven’t been, so we’re heading off to Lisbon this evening and renting a car for two weeks before spending a few days with myfamily.
I grab a piece of pizza just as Aaron pokes his head into the kitchen and asks if I’ve seen hissuitcase.
“Meu Deus.” I roll my eyes and put the pizza down, moving to open up the tiny closet in ourentryway.
There’s no pictures of Tiffany tacked to the walls of this one, but we do have the shot of her wearing Aaron’s beanie framed and sitting on a shelf in the living room next to some house plants. A few of my friends think it’s weird for me to be okay with that, and sometimes I agree. I should probably feel jealous of her, of all the time I know Aaron still spends thinking abouther.
I don’t, though. I love him and she’s part of who he is. I know Aaron wouldn’t be the person I know him as if it weren’t for her. He goes to grief counselling once a month and it’s done wonders in helping him sort out his feelings. It still makes me ache to think he went for so long dealing with everything on hisown.
The anniversary of Tiffany’s death was only a couple of months ago, and Aaron took me to see her grave for the first time. I thought it would hurt him more, that he’d head into some kind of downward spiral, but he just seemed calm and thoughtful. I brought lilies to put on the grave and he told me she would have liked those way better than the stuffy bouquets her mom always brings. He held my hand and told me she would have liked me alot.
I hope that’s true. I didn’t say it out loud, but as I placed the flowers on the grass, I sent a little message to her in myhead:
Don’t worry. I’m taking good care ofhim.
“What do you think? Aviators or Ray-Bans?”
Aaron’s voice jolts me back to the present. I turn to find him alternating between modelling both pairs ofsunglasses.
“Tough choice,” I say, laughing as he starts posing like a swimsuit model. “I think you’d better bring both. Now hurry up or we’ll miss ourflight.”
* * *
“You know what’s funny?”
I pause mid-lipstick-application in the bathroom of our hotel room. Aaron is out in the main room, probably stretched out on the bed as he waits for me to get ready for dinner tonight. We’re three days into our trip and just got to Porto thismorning.
“Enlighten me,” I call back tohim.
“I’m supposed to be photographing the wonders of Portugal,” he answers, “but I’m going through my photos right now and almost all of them are ofyou.”
I scoff. “Um, excuse me, Iamone of the wonders ofPortugal.”
“Very true. Mymistake.”
