You could be inducted into a group of successful friends so tightly knit and bonded it would take a nuclear bomb to rip them apart.
You could get knocked up and suffer an early miscarriage.
You could go through a brief bout of depression before being able to accept the devastation.
You could quit your dream job and call a break on your relationship with your loving boyfriend and travel to France with your favorite little sister—because it’s a place where you remember yourself being wildly free and joyously happy. Only, while you’re there, you realize that what you used to feel here is nothing compared to whatthat personmakes you feel. That person who makes you far happier and freer than France ever did. And so you go back home to his waiting arms and fall in love with him ten times stronger than you were before.
You could get your dream job back without effort, because, well, you’re friends with the boss, so…privilege.
You could decide to work harder and better than you did before to make up for quitting. So much so that you unwittingly nab a full spread in the local paper as the “Rising Star Pastry Chef” in Denver.
You could be given a giant raise by your boss to deter you from being tempted to accept any of the juicy job offers that’ve been coming your way since the article.
You could be wearing a hard hat with your boyfriend as you both watch a wrecking ball sweep through the memories of his compound.
You could scream and jump for joy when he offers you, as a gift, a spot to open your own bakery in the mall that he plans to build there.
You could finally grow up and hire a real estate agent to set about finding the perfect home for you...and him.
You could travel to Germany again with the love of your life to surprise his mother for her birthday…
“Surprise!!!”
Claudette jumps with a panicked squeal and throws her house keys in the air, indeed surprised.
When she notices her living room littered with close friends and family, she plants a palm to her chest and exhales a whoosh of breath.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she gasps out. “You all scared the living daylights out of me. I’m too old to be surprised like this. You could have given me a heart attack!”
We all laugh before launching into an offbeat rendition of the happy birthday song. It’s while we’re all singing and swaying that she squints into the throng of loved ones and realizes we’re among them.
“Owen?Pia?!” she exclaims. “Am I seeing right?”
Laughing, we both go to her, wrapping our arms around her together, still singing.
Claudette and I have developed a great relationship since we visited over six months ago. We chat at least twice a week about anything from cute house decorations to coming up with new pastry and confectionery ideas together. We’ve developed a relationship well beyond our mutual love for her son.
“Oh, my, what a surprise!” She’s close to tears as she hugs us both back. “You’re here. Both of you.”
“Happy birthday, Mom,” Onyx says, kissing her on the cheek.
We’re jerked off balance when his little sisters, Lily and Lola, crash into us with hugs of their own. To the left of us, Jeff, husband and father, is smiling at us contentedly. He’d helped us plan the whole thing. He’s a bit of a beta to Claudette’s alpha personality, but they’re such a happy, healthy family, it’s refreshing. He worships the ground she walks on, and Claudette is nuts about him. That’s all two people could ask for in a relationship.
~
Later, after hugs and laughter, sugary drinks, and flat Styrofoam plates full of junk food, after the throngs have dwindled, Onyx and I wander out into the backyard, fingers entwined.
The Wagners reside in a small, quiet, secluded town in Nürnberg. They’re modest in their living habits—a nondescript beige and brown four-bedroom house with terracotta roofing. The magic is at the back of the house, where a beautiful stretch of lake splits the neighborhood in two.
Jeff is a fisher at heart, Claudette told me, so number one on his list during their house-hunting years ago was, “Must be close to a lake.”
“You happy?” Onyx asks as we stroll, slow and leisurely, toward the lake.
“I’m always happy when I’m with you.”
In response to that, he lovingly squeezes my fingers. “You like it here?”
“It’s peaceful. Quiet,” I reply. “But I couldn’t live here. It’s too sleepy, and, well, beige. You know me. I love a splash of color. A bit of madness.”
