Only Human (takes place about sixteen months after "A Parting of the Ways")

Standing on the boardwalk, one hand in my pants pocket and the other resting on top of the wooden railing, I watched boats arriving at and leaving from the marina. It was after midnight and the wakes left behind by the boats were covered with little sparkles and speckles of moonlight.

I was reminded of another night. When we'd stood right here, holding hands. Then we lowered our medical masks and kissed. Two unforgettable kisses. The future seemed bright and almost anything seemed possible.

Sixteen months had passed since that night. The quarantine and lockdown were pretty much over and done with. There were occasional outbreaks of the virus elsewhere, but none for several months here. It seemed like another world when medical masks had to be worn outside (not that my remote work had let me go outside that often). It had been worth it, but I probably wasn't the only one who was grateful when the need for them had faded until they were only worn at hospitals.

This Christmas season seemed determined to make up for the ones during the quarantine and lockdown. It had been special. Decorations all over town. Carolers dressed in 19^th Century clothes had wandered the sidewalks, singing in the traditional way. It felt more like the final happy scene in “It's a Wonderful Life” than real life.

It had seemed like the right time to make a certain decision.

But now that I'd made it, I felt like a deflated balloon.

The small smooth and round metallic hoop in my pocket brushed my hand. I could feel the smoothness of the gemstone set in it.

I took it out and looked at it. Silver band with a single, dark and beautiful amethyst.

On my way home from work yesterday I'd purchased it at the town's only jewelry shop.

Narrowing down the possible choices hadn't been difficult. Silver, not gold. Because Sam had said, “I don't like gold rings.” The choice of gemstone had also been easy. No diamond. Because she'd also said, “I don't like diamonds. I prefer emeralds and amethysts.”

One silver ring with an amethyst had caught my eye. That would look pretty on her ring-finger, I thought.

The jeweler had found a beautiful box with a red felt exterior, green interior. “Red and green,” she'd said. “Perfect colors for the season. Your girlfriend will love getting it on Christmas.”

I'd nodded hopefully.

She'd looked at me. “You don't look that certain. You sure this is the right decision to make? I could save the ring for you, so that no one else buys it. Maybe come back after Christmas when you're more certain?”

“I'm as certain as I can be,” I'd said. “It's been almost a year and a half.” The happiest year and a half I'd yet experienced. “I'm not sure if postponing this would help any.”

“But you love her, right?” she'd asked.

I'd nodded, definite this time.

“Then you'll probably find the right moment to show it to her and propose,” the jeweler had said. “It's never easy if you haven't done it before.” She'd paused. “Your first time?”

I'd nodded again.

“First relationship?” she'd asked.

I'd shaken my head. “But it's the first one that's lasted this long.”

“Then it's just nervousness,” she'd said. “Take a deep breath, kneel, look her in the eye, and ask her.”

If only it had been that easy.

I'd paid for the ring. The jeweler had put it inside the little red felt box, then put that inside a small paper bag, and handed the bag to me.

“Good luck,” she'd said.

“Thanks,” I'd said, and turned to go.

On the way home I'd stopped on the side of the road, had second thoughts, and almost drove back to the jeweler's shop.

This is no time to panic, Elias. It's the time to listen to your heart. What does your heart say?

“Alea iacta est.” (“The die is cast” – what Julius Caesar said before he and his army crossed the River Rubicon and marched to Rome).

Oh come now. Be serious. You're not the commander of an army returning from the Gallic Wars. You're you. What's one thing you shouldn't let happen?

Allow my fears to cripple me.

Good. But don't be fearless to the point of foolishness.

It's going to be risky.

Life is risky. Giving birth is risky for the mother-to-be.

I wouldn't know. I'm a man. I can't get pregnant.

Okay. Maybe that wasn't the best example to use. Let's use another one: Crossing a street is risky. But you don't let that stop you. You take precautions, you look both ways, and once it's safe to go, you go. And you don't stop in the middle because you suddenly decided it was a bad idea. That's when an oncoming car or truck could collide with you. Cross the street all the way first, then stop and think.

You think proposing marriage is as easy as crossing the street?

I didn't say it was easy. What I meant was: This is something that either you go all the way with it and take what comes afterward, or don't even think of starting. The worst that will happen is that she'll say “No”. But the best –

Assuming there's a positive outcome.

But the best that will happen is that she'll say “Yes”. Wouldn't it be wonderful to hear her say that?

I'd nodded.

Then what are you waiting for? Finish your Christmas shopping, wrap the presents at home, and then on Christmas Eve, your mother and Sam's parents will be coming over to be with you and Sam. When the moment is right, you kneel in front of Sam, show her the ring, and propose to her.

With all three of them watching? What are you trying to do, make me more nervous than I already am? Good grief!

Fine. Ask her to join you in the kitchen, make sure no one else is there, and then kneel and propose.

I'd nodded.

Good. Now get back on the road. She's probably home from work and wondering why you aren't there already. Just remember: You're only human. And so is she.

I'd nodded again, steered the car back onto the road.

Once shopping was finished, I'd driven home. I had the car's radio on and the town's Christmas station was playing one Christmas carol after another. Some had been performed more traditionally, some more up-to-date. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the traditional versions.

At home, I'd carried the bags of presents downstairs to the basement where a table had been set up for wrapping presents. I didn't see any unwrapped ones, except the ones I'd bought today. Good. That way I wouldn't spoil any of Sam's surprises. The box with the ring in it was in the front pocket of my pants. Hopefully she wouldn't see the bulge there and wonder what it was.

I'd just finished wrapping the last present, when Sam came down the stairs. She was dressed in a green-and-red plaid knee-length dress, red shin-high stockings, and green low-heeled dress shoes. Her long dark hair was wound up on top of her head. She had a slender gold necklace around her neck. She'd looked like she was ready to go out dancing.

I'd smiled. “You look amazing.”

She'd smiled back. “Thanks. I hope you're not planning to buy any more presents. I don't think there will be any room left after you put those under the tree.”

“It's been a good year, paycheck-wise,” I'd said. “I wanted to share what I'd earned.”

“I hope you left something in your bank account,” she'd said as she came over to me.

“More than enough,” I'd said.

We'd put our arms around each other and kissed.

“I've been wanting to do that all day today,” Sam had said.

“Same here,” I'd said.

“There's a Christmas party at the community center,” she'd said.

“Tonight?” I'd asked.

She'd nodded. “I was worried you weren't going to be home in time.”

Next time, make yourself a note and keep it near you, I reminded myself. This is one of those things that Sam shouldn't have to do.

“Thank you for reminding me,” I'd said. “I just need to change.” I was dressed for work, since I didn't have to do remote work anymore. But work clothes aren't necessarily dress-up clothes for going out with your girlfriend.

She'd nodded and kissed me on the nose. “Don't dilly-dally. They have a really good band this year and I don't want to miss dancing to them.”

“I won't,” I'd said.

The community center was at the north end of the street that Francois' cafe was on. (It was possible that he might even be there. Two years ago, it would've been both him and his sister Danielle. But – well, you know what happened to her. I won't go into it again here.) The parking lot was crowded, making it hard to find an empty parking spot, but we eventually found one. After we entered the community center, we could hear the crowd talking and laughing as the band tuned up. I'd paid for our tickets and we went inside the auditorium. I couldn't remember it being that crowded and loud before the quarantine and lockdown. Even the mayor was there with her husband. But there was no sign of Francois. Perhaps he'd decided to stay at home this year.

I'd taken off my coat and helped Sam take off hers. There were piles of coats on top of several tables pushed together against the opposite wall from the stage. I added our coats to one of the piles.

“Is it usually like this?” Sam had asked in my right ear, speaking loudly.

“I think everyone's just happy to celebrate the return to normality,” I'd replied.

It was only then that I realized that I'd subconsciously placed the box with the ring in the inner pocket of my blazer. What in the world could I have been thinking? I'd planned to wait to propose until Christmas Eve, and even then in the kitchen, not in the living room with my mother and Sam's parents watching and listening. Maybe it'd just been an honest mistake?

The mayor took the stage, one hand on the microphone stand. “Attention, happy revelers! Attention!”

The buzz of conversations subsided enough so that she could be heard.

“May this be the first of many Christmas parties to come!” she'd said.

We'd cheered in response.

“I want to thank everyone for doing their best to abide by the quarantine and lockdown rules,” she'd said. “I know they weren't enjoyable to deal with, but they were quite necessary. And now you have the reward for all that you did to keep the virus outbreak as small as possible. Let the party begin!” She'd waved at the band.

They began with “Auld Lang Syne”, with everyone singing along. And then they'd followed it with some traditional carols, and then some more up-to-date Christmas songs. Everyone cheered and danced along with the music.

It must have been well after midnight when the party finally began to wind down. Outside the community center there was a terrace on the opposite side of the building from the parking lot. It was a little chilly, but Sam had wanted to watch the snow falling from the moonlit sky.

“It's beautiful out here tonight,” she'd said. “Are you glad we came?”

I'd nodded. “There wasn't a Christmas party last year. Not here, anyway. It was a much smaller affair, with mandatory medical masks and social distancing.”

“Is that why you didn't want to go last year?” she'd asked. “I think I asked you, but you didn't quite say 'yes' or 'no'.”

“I don't think I was ready to, yet,” I'd said. “I'm glad we waited. Last year it didn't snow on the night of the party. The snowflakes look beautiful on your hair.”

“At least it's snow and not rain,” Sam had said. “Otherwise, my hair would be soaked again.”

“Your hair is beautiful whether it's dry or wet,” I'd said, but reached up anyway to clear the snowflakes from her hair.

She brought my hand down to hip level and we stood there, looking at each other. She had that look. The one that I remembered from our initial conversation at Francois' cafe. The one that was able to see past the surface and search the depths within me.

“Something's bothering you,” she'd said. “Or maybe 'bothering' is the wrong word for it. You're thinking about something. Something important.”

I'd nodded. This wasn't really when I'd expected to talk about it. It was still a few days until Christmas Eve, but maybe that was waiting too long?

“Care to share it?” Sam had asked.

“It's been over a year since we first met,” I'd said.

“True,” she'd said. “A year that's had its fair share of ups and down. Happily, more ups than downs.”

“And I was wondering if you'd thought about making it last … well … longer,” I'd said.

“You mean, permanent?” she'd asked.

“As permanent as a finite lifetime can be, yes,” I'd said.

Sam gave me a long look and then tapped the bulge in my blazer. “Is that what I think it is, or are you just happy to be with me?”

I reached into my blazer's inner pocket and took out the red-felt-covered ring box. I remember seeing her cover her mouth with one hand and hearing her catch her breath. Her eyes went from the silver ring with its dark purple amethyst stone to my face.

“I've never done this before, so please forgive me if I make a mess of it,” I'd said. I knelt before her, and held her free hand with my free hand. “Sam, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

There was a pause and my heart pounded. Not in a good way. Instead, it had hurt. Like someone was squeezing it hard.

Her mouth opened, and I could only hope that she was going to nod and say “yes”. In fact, it seemed like she really was going to, then backed off, then got close to it, and then backed off again. I'd thought I'd seen tears in her eyes.

How could this possibly have made her unhappy? Maybe I should've waited until Christmas Eve after all?

She'd closed her eyes, as if there were some terrible vision that only she could see. “Elias – I – I – I can't. I'm so sorry. But I can't. Please understand.”

It had felt like everything was crashing inside me. Like a wooden building gutted by fire until it was nothing more than a pile of burnt logs and planks. I'd opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say, or even how to say it.

Sam had let go of my free hand and hurried back inside the community center. I heard the entrance/exit doors behind me open and close. But I'd stayed kneeling there in the cold, wet snow until I thought that there was no sane reason to anymore. I'd stood up, taken a deep breath, and let it out.

The party was over. The interior lights were being turned off.

I put the ring box back in my blazer's inner pocket, went back inside the community center, and went to the tables were the coats had been piled. Sam's coat was already gone. I picked up mine and put it on.

Would she be waiting in the car, hoping I wouldn't ask why she'd said “no”, or had she gotten a ride home? Would she be at home when I got there? Or would she stay somewhere else for the night?

My car was one of the few left in the parking lot. It seemed to be empty inside. I sat down inside it and wondered: Where to go, if not home?

I remembered the boardwalk along the waterfront. Not that I had any desire to do away with myself. But I definitely wanted to be somewhere where I'd had at least one happy memory.

I drove there and parked nearby. I climbed up the wooden steps. The boardwalk was empty.

And that was where I was standing, after all this happened. Wondering if I'd made a huge mistake.

Soon after, I heard a car enter the waterfront parking lot. It stopped. A car door opened.

I heard footsteps hurry towards me. The footsteps climbed the wooden steps and stopped a short distance away.

“Elias?”

It was Sam's voice.

I turned around to look at her.

She looked like she'd been crying for awhile. All that inner strength, and yet –

“Would you believe me if I said I was only human?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I hope you haven't thrown it away,” she said.

I shook my head. “I still have it. I guess I'll return it to the jewelry shop tomorrow.”

“Don't,” Sam said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“I do love you, Elias,” she said.

I waited silently.

“That hasn't changed,” she went on.

“But?” I prompted.

She took a deep breath. “Maybe I wasn't ready yet.”

“Are you ready now?” I asked.

She nodded. “I think I so.”

I looked at her. Would she turn me down again? Was it worth the risk? I decided that it was.

I knelt in front of her. “Sam, will you marry me?”

She smiled. “Yes.” And held out her right hand.

I slipped the ring onto her ring-finger, stood up, and we kissed.