Epilogue
499 Words
EpilogueEvan
The week after Christmas was tiring and a little stressful, mostly because Sanaa kept getting emotional when customers made sad noises about the store closing, but also because I was back online with the law firm, starting the Going Back to Work process. I did not, thank God, have to address any of the approximately 12,000 emails that had come in during my six-month leave. The firm had redundancy in its HR chain, so people from other offices had shared the load. But I had to read up on all the policy and procedure updates, review the resumes and onboarding reports from people who’d joined since I stepped away, and generally get my head back in the game.
All while selling off the remaining stock, keeping the store as pleasant-looking as possible, scrupulously documenting every day’s further price reductions, and flogging the sales online. My dream conclusion was to close the doors on New Year’s Eve with empty shelves and go home to spend the night with Simon.
He sent encouraging texts every day, some accompanied by photos documenting his own book-reduction program. Stopped by with coffee only once, because we were swarmed and I didn’t have much time to chat during the day. On another day, he had pizza delivered to the store. I was one hundred percent in love, ready to say irretrievable things, as soon as I only had one job again.
* * * *
Simon
As soon as Evan only had one job again, I was planning to make a solid pitch for cohabitation. I ran down the pros and cons with Mom, who pointed out that there was a sole non-trivial argument against: if it didn’t work out after all, I’d have to come and live with her, which was not an intolerable outcome. Especially since if it didn’t work out, I’d be heartbroken, and I’d want my mommy.
She told me to grow a pair and go get my man.
So on December 31st, by arrangement, I borrowed Evan’s house key and set up a little New Year party at his place. Knowing he’d be worn out after a full day at the store, possibly frustrated if there was remaining stock he had to return or toss out, I didn’t assume we’d be staying up till midnight.
What I did assume was that we would eat something easy and festive, drink some quantity of sparkling whatever, and make love.
All of which came to pass.
On New Year’s Day, bright and early, Evan rolled over in bed and stared at me. “Simon, I’m in love with you. What can I do to convince you to move in with me?”
I fluttered my lashes at him, hoping that concealed the gleam of wet eyes. “Evan, I’m in love with you too. So, you know, you could just ask.”
He laughed against my mouth, and our amazingly happy new year began.
THE END
The Snaccident by Holly Day
- Writer
