Hope, Levy, Marc [good summer reads TXT] 📗

day, and I can’t find you?”

“You’ll find me; I’m sure of it. And if it’s not me, you’ll find me in the eyes of another, in someone else’s heart, in a glimpse of his youth, and you’ll love him with all the strength I’ve given you. Then it’ll be your turn to offer me up a piece of eternity. You can tell him that we were the first people crazy enough to mock death, and you’ll raise a glass to how smart we were.”

“Are you hearing yourself? It’s the world upside down, Joshy.”

“I’m Fred; he’s Momo; and my friend in the baseball cap is Sammy. How about you? What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Hope,” she said. “My name’s Hope.”

23

“So that’s your name on the rock?” Momo asked.

“Yes.”

“So, who’s Josh?”

“My world upside down.”

Momo shrugged, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why is there a rock here?”

“Because it’s where the treasure is buried. Will you help me dig it out?”

The three children needed no encouragement, and before long, a small black suitcase appeared amidst the sand.

Hope gave them money to buy ice cream, and they scurried off happily, challenging one another to get to the vendor first.

As soon as she was alone, Hope flicked open the latches and lifted the lid.

Inside the suitcase were a letter and things that felt familiar to her, treasures she’d rummaged for in the Sunday flea market, including a little wooden airplane that made her well up.

She took in a deep breath and unfolded the letter.

Hope, my love,

If you’ve found this suitcase, then it means we accomplished the impossible.

It’s such a paradox, to have such a heavy heart while writing words that I so sorely hope you’ll discover one day.

What we believe doesn’t really matter. It’s the way we love that makes us who we truly are. I thought that in adulthood, people loved like they did as children, but I was wrong. Real love is about giving what you never had, without restraint or fear, and I learned that from you.

When your final nights fall, I will be there to watch you breathe. I will listen to the sounds of your presence so that I never forget them. I will lay my head down against you to breathe in the smell of your skin, and to remember the days when you would laugh, when we would make love, when I would cling to the hot skin of your chest, when I was an alchemist of life.

Death came into our existence like a sacrilege, removing our lives from us.

Once you are gone, I will move heaven and earth to find any faint glimmer of humanity and love that I can. I will see two strangers holding hands, and I will be reminded of us. I will go to the Sunday flea market to retrace our steps, to relive our doubts and hopes.

I know that you’re more scared for me, the person left behind, than you are for yourself. You’ll ask me to carry on living, and to learn to love again. I knew that that’s what you were fighting for, that every last drop of strength you had you poured into giving me the time to learn. But how can I exist in the world without you beside me? What light will I have without your sunny smile? What book could I possibly read, if I can’t share it with you? Someone once said that life only makes sense through the senses life gives us. But how to sense without you? Smelling without your scent, hearing without your voice, seeing without your eyes, touching without your hands, tasting without your kiss? How to live without you?

I know you’ll make me promise never to give in to death, to never sacrifice all the love you gave me.

When you fall into Death’s arms, ask him to make time go by fast, so that my aged legs might carry me along the streets we once walked down, buoyed by the idea that I will be seeing you soon.

Tell him that our love is stronger than he is, because our love will outlive us.

You are the woman I had never dared imagine in my wildest dreams. It turns out that you were the alchemist of my life.

I can’t say how many years have slipped by since the day we left this island hand in hand. But know that not one morning will I have opened my eyes, not one night will I have closed them, without seeing your face.

And if you’re reading these words now, let me ask you to make me a promise, in turn. Love, with all your heart, without restraint, and without regret. We were happy, and that happiness comes at a price.

I wish you a wonderful life, my darling. As wonderful as the life you gave me.

It was a privilege to have known you.

I love you.

Joshy

Hope stayed sitting on the beach until evening fell, clutching the letter in one hand, and the wooden airplane in the other.

Then, she put them in the suitcase, picked it up, and began to walk.

It’s said that people on the point of dying see their lives flash before their eyes in reverse. Hope had just seen hers flash by the right way.

On the ferry back to Cape Cod, Hope faced into the wind as she watched Nantucket fade into the distance, remembering the last words she had exchanged with Josh on the island, before burying the suitcase she now hugged to her chest.

“What about you, Joshy? Will you live and grow old in the meantime?”

“No. I’ll wait for you.”

24

It was two o’clock in the morning by the time Hope arrived back at Simon’s apartment. She put the suitcase by the foot of the bed and called her friend.

“Did I wake you?”

“Either you didn’t check the time, or that’s the most rhetorical question I’ve heard all day,” Simon said. “But since I left you ten messages and you never called back,