From the foyer, his mother loudly explains what took so long. “Would you believe there was an accident involving a truck full of peaches? Peaches everywhere. I had to take a detour.”
I frantically turn to Oliver again. I can hear his mother’s footsteps. There’s no time. I ask him urgently: “Oliver, tell me the truth. Would you want to be with me in a different, better time and place?”
“Yes, yes, a million times yes.” He scoots a little farther away from me. Anticipating his mother’s entry.
I can’t lose him. His mother approaches. She’s seconds away from the living room. This could be the last time I see Oliver. I want to tell him my name isn’t Shams. That I’m immortal. Eternally young.
But there’s no time.
We need more time.
And this must be a sign. That he and I are in front of a fire in this very moment. The fates are sending me a message.Make him immortal, they’re telling me.We provided the fire. Now do your part.
And so I do what I think I must. I throw one of the pages into the fire. I watch as Wilde’s words burn: “The basis of optimism is sheer terror.”
Sheer terror.That’s what I feel as the page burns. “Say it again, Oliver. Tell me you wish you were born in another time, a time when your love isn’t a crime. Please. Say it.”
His eyes are moist as he says, “I wish we could be alive in a time when our love isn’t a crime.”
I sigh. He did it. He made his wish as the page burns. I’m not even certain it will work. But if it does...
His mother enters. Oliver turns to her. A nervous smile on his face. “Hello, Mother.”
His mother squints. “Son, how long have you been staring at that fire? Your eyes look positively aflame.”
Oliver looks at me. That’s when I know it worked. He’s like me now. “I feel different, Shams.”
Optimism.That’s what I feel as I lose myself in his fiery gaze. Our eyes are the same now. Our fates forever tied. I have to tell him that I made his wish come true. Granted him the fantasy life he dreamed of. We have no limits any longer. We’re not stuck in this horrible time and place. But there’s time to explain all that. An eternity of time and an eternity of love.
Bram. London. 2025.
“Oliver?” I approach him slowly. He doesn’t turn to face me. I haven’t seen him in forty-three years. That was the average human being’s life expectancy when I was born. It feels like a blip in time to me right now. The years without him seem to disappear now that he’s here with me again. “Oliver. Please. Look at me. Talk to me.”
Finally he says: “I hate this.” His eyes are on the river. The water that by dusk will contain Lily’s ashes.
“I know. Lily’s gone. Our mother.”
That’s when he turns to me. I examine his unchanged face. Search for signs of warmth behind the smoldering rage. He doesn’t bother wearing a veil. He lets his eyes burn for all to see.
“Yourmother. I loved Lily. You know that. But Ihada mother. You took me from her.”
“Oliver, we discussed all this over a century ago.... You could have—”
“Could have what?” His eyes are scorching. I forgot what it’s like to be looked at with those feline eyes in these decades without him.
He repeats a variation on the same words he spoke to me by the Charles River. It was the first sunrise after I had transformed him. He knew something had changed inside him. I knew I had to tellhim the truth. I thought he would thank me for making his wish come true. That’s how naive I once was. How stupid.
What he said then was:Now I must tell Mother that not only am I a homosexual, but I’m also immortal?! This is the state where they burned women at the stake. You think the same people who put our friends at Harvard through a secret trial will be kind to the woman who birthed a freak like me?!
What he said then was:I promised myself I would never love someone like my father. And you’re just like him. Selfish. Mercurial. You take what you want without a care for others.
What he said then was:I hate you. I’ll hate you forever.
His words came out like a waterfall back then. Now they’re more a gush of resentment as his aching voice plays the same sad theme. “I never wanted this. Mother is gone. Brendan is gone. And now...” A lump in his throat. His voice cracks. “Now Lily’s gone. Everybody I’ve ever loved is gone.”
“I’m here.” I pull him close. He sobs into my chest. Hot tears that warm my heart. “Look.” I pull a vintage Oreos tin from my satchel bag.
“You think I’ll forgive you because of some hundred-year-old cookies?”
