I fall to the floor. I want to become one with this house. This stained carpet. This chipped paint. I don’t want eternal youth anymore. What I want is to stop time. Here. Now. An eternal present on this very day.
Lily joins me on the floor. Sits with me. “I don’t know what comes next, but I know this. We must love the life we’re given. It’s our most important job. And when our time is up, we must hand the world over to a new generation. We must give them our passions, our lessons, our art, our loves, our losses. We must give them oursoulsand hope they can find the same happiness we once did. Hope they’re as lucky as we once were.”
Oliver sits down too. “Lucky?” His face is ashen.
Archie sits cross-legged. “Of course we were lucky. Look at what we’ve had.”
Maud sits too. “More than most.”
Changeling paws at Oliver’s calves. He picks his beloved cat up into his arms. Looks deep in Lily’s eyes. “Take good care of Changeling.”
Lily nods. We hold hands. I close my eyes. Imagine we’re around a campfire. But there will be no fire today. No burning page.
Our family won’t exist after today. But we lived. We truly lived.
Oliver. London. 2025.
Tobi stares into the fire, mulling what to do next. To be immortal or not to be immortal? That is his question. “Lily is always right,” he whispers to himself. Then he turns to us. “Have you ever thought about how to reverse the curse?”
Bram nods. “I figured that burning the page might reverse it, but then... if that were the case, my immortality would’ve been reversed when I burned the page that turned Oliver.”
“Water,” Tobi says. “Water is the opposite of fire, isn’t it?”
“In a way,” Bram says.
“It puts a fire out,” Tobi says. “It heals. Lily baptized me in water.”
“Me too,” Bram says.
I find myself traveling back in time. Mother is by my side. By the Charles. The river she loved so much. We’re in Provincetown again. Staring out at the Atlantic. The endless possibilities it offered us in that moment. “Land’s end,” I say to Mother as much as to Bram and Tobi. “A new beginning.”
Tobi walks to the suite’s teakettle. Fills it. We wait for it to boil. When it does, he pours us each a cup of piping-hot water.
“What do we do?” Bram asks.
“Put the last page in the water,” Tobi suggests. “It’s worth a shot.”
I tear the page in two. Hand one half to Bram. Keep the other in my grip. Wilde’s words are like a challenge.
In my hand,You poisoned me with a book once. I should not forgive that.
In Bram’s hand,The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.
I crumple the paper. Bram rips his piece into shreds. We place the paper in our teacups. Bram raises his cup high. “High tea at Claridge’s again. Remember?”
I shake my head. “Of course I remember. I remember everything.”
“The good and the bad.”
“Mostly the good,” I say.
“Cheers to that.” Bram raises his cup.
We clink our glasses.
“Drink it,” Tobi suggests.
“Wait!” Bram yells.
