The Final Proposal

To the outside eye, New York often appears to be the fulcrum of all liveliness, a city brimming with constant movement and activity, each day ignited with the blaze of new possibilities. The eve of December 24th, 2010, stood to be no different a day, bringing along with it a renewed spirit of another Christmas. Alongside its people, the city itself came alive in brilliant lights and celebration, ready to welcome another holiday with its unending cheer and excitement. The streets flooded with tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of the Big Apple in its holiday essence; the ice rinks dotted with city-dwellers, some gliding across the ice gracefully, others falling over hand-in-hand, all grateful to be spending the holiday with their loved ones; artists and businessmen alike experiencing the undeniable life that the city exuded on Christmas Eve. But somewhere among the festivities, behind the open arena of the bustling holiday spirit, unknown to the million content souls of New York, was a different world unfolding itself before the eyes of a dying woman. 

As she lay in her room, she could feel the city around her stir and awaken to the rhythm of Christmas; she had long stopped feeling sorry for herself, for she knew that it was only a matter of time before it was over. And yet, she felt the familiar pangs of hurt that threatened her nonchalance, daring her to give in to self-pity, to dwell on the fact that she was utterly alone, even on Christmas. This wouldn’t have bothered her, had she not known what it felt like to be companioned. But she did - and she longed for the feeling once again.  

Abandoned at birth, left to herself, she had grown up on the streets, living a life undesired by everyone around her. Even on the days she managed to survive by, she had cursed her existence, appalled by its absolute drear and weariness. What had made the first couple years of her life on the streets infinitely more unbearable was the absence of anyone - friend, family, foe. Until he had come by. She hadn’t expected it, but there had been someone. Someone there to remind her that she was not, after all, cursed by loneliness. He had made her miserable life far less so, and she couldn’t remember now ever being happier than when she was with him. He had lifted her out of her monotony, gotten her to see life as more than punishment. As she lay there, she wondered how she eventually got dealt the losing hand. How she had managed to see sixty-two, but he hadn’t. 

In her life after his death, she had never wanted anything more than to be free. Free to leave the city that now gave her nothing but pain, free to fold herself into the million sheaves of countries and cities that held a lot more than the kind of life she had seen. New York seemed to her little more than a cage, forcing her to pace its concrete walls and cling on to her miserable circumstance. On this evening, as she listened to the sounds of people celebrating a holiday that now held far less meaning to her than any ordinary day, she longed to be somewhere else - anywhere else - with him. She could feel her breath running more ragged, her eyes feeling heavy with every second that passed. She turned her head to glance at the clock on her wall - 11:27. Turning her head back to her window, she saw a couple walking down the street, laughing and enjoying the city around them, the woman dressed in a beautiful red dress she wished she had. In the blink of an eye, she watched as the man dropped to his knees and presented the woman with a ring. He slid the ring into her finger, and all the while, the woman could do nothing but sob through her tears of joy. She smiled at this scene before her. She watched as the couple walked away, and continued to see them into the distance until they were pinpricks of movement in the flood of lights. She hadn’t stopped smiling, but she could feel her eyes starting to shut close and the noise outside drown into a dull thrum of voices and music, as her subconscious began to take over her mind in the last moments of her life. 

Greece

She finds herself in a crowded Square on the streets of Athens, surrounded by people cheering and shouting as a large ship, decorated with lights and ornaments, is brought in at the centre of the Square. She recognizes the Square from the numerous pictures and books he had shown her years ago. It’s beautiful. Christmas Eve there is nothing like anywhere else. I’ll take you there one day. She smiles, and is surprised to find out, when she looks down at herself, that she is wearing the red dress she remembers seeing moments ago. She is even more surprised to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the window of a vehicle that passes by her - she does not look sixty-two. She is a far younger version of herself, and far prettier than she remembers being. She looks back at the festivities around her and can sense the spirit of Christmas Eve overflowing within the people there. The Square is decorated with a million lights, and she sees smaller versions of the ship in front of her strewn about the streets, alongside Christmas trees heavy with ornaments. She is no longer in New York. As she breathes in the people, the setting, the decorations around her, she comes face-to-face with him. He is just as she remembers him: tall, but not looming; his emerald-green eyes reflecting the shine from the lights around them; his mouth curled into the loving smirk that she had missed most; the brown mop of hair atop his head slightly tousled, forcing her to resist the urge to run her hands through it and comb it down. He smiles at her, reaching for her hand, and without a word, gets down on his knees, the hint of a diamond under the closed fist of his other hand. She simply stands there, aware of what is happening but somehow afraid to speak and risk breaking the trance. She doesn’t want to lose this moment with him. She watches on as he holds out the ring, and hears the words that she never expected to hear come out of his mouth, “Will you marry me?” And despite herself, despite her bewilderment, she finds her voice. She hears herself saying, “Yes.” And he disappears. 

Italy

She blinks, and is no longer in the Square of Athens. The scene around her has shifted to a brighter hue, with a quieter setting waiting to greet her this time. She knows where she is - the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, in the city of her dreams, Rome. Was it on a billboard in Times Square that he had pointed out the festivities of Christmas in this Basilica? I wish you could see the Christmas celebrations out there. They’re to die for. I’ll take you there one day. She looks around in sudden despair, hoping to see him near her, hoping that he has managed to transport himself as she has. She soon finds relief as she notices him walking toward her from the other end of the Basilica. She starts to realize that the celebration of Christmas Eve holds a different meaning within the walls of the church. She spots a large, decorated Christmas tree at the end of the church, sees people lighting candles near the altar at the front, hears the grateful whispers of the people that are praying silently around her. She is dressed in the beautiful red dress as she was before, and looks around in awe of the beauty that surrounds her. Within moments, she is once again in front of him, and he is unchanged, as he was. Wordlessly, they stand before each other, smiling as though the only ones present within the four walls of the church. She has started to realize what is happening. She stares as he slowly starts to get on his knees. She is sure now, sure of what is happening around her. She cannot help but cry through her smile, and as she cries, she sees the beautiful ring being held out in front of her. She registers the four words she has now heard once before, and is now whole-heartedly laughing with joy. She knows. She closes her eyes and whispers, “Yes.” 

England

She’s surprised to find herself where she does next. Gone are the beautiful columns of the Basilica, gone is the tall Christmas Tree. Instead, she is now on a bus. Still wearing the red dress, she looks around herself, and finally registers where she is - the Winter Bar Bus in London. She recalls how he had told her of the city during Christmas, some years before his death. You wouldn’t believe it! The entire city flashes by you on a bus - you see everything! I know you would love it; I’ll take you there one day. She watches as London passes by her every second, just as he had described, and she marvels at the streets lined with beautiful decorations and Christmas trees, the people walking around, singing and cheering as they head toward the Palace that she now sees in the distance. She smiles. She watches in silent wonderment as different buildings and houses dash past her, only noticing his presence beside her after he has tapped her on the shoulder. She’s no longer surprised. She knows. He is looking at her in endearment, as he had in life, and she can feel herself choking up, unable to contain herself. She does not want this to end. She’s smiling wider than ever, and she holds out her hand for him to gently grasp. He is laughing now, and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring. “Marry me, sweetheart,” she hears him say, and she too is laughing as she embraces him, and screams over the loud commotion that is taking over the city of London at the moment, “Yes!”

France

She knew she would be here next. She doesn’t know how, but even before she finds herself sitting outside the gorgeous cafe on the cobblestoned path decorated by numerous lights and paper lanterns, she hears the unfamiliar chatter of the Parisians around her, the laughter that surrounds her tinkling with the familiar spirit of Chirstmas. She had wanted to be here most of all; she remembers hearing him talk about the city. I wish I could describe it to you. I wish I could tell you how it was. But Paris is something else, love. I’ll take you there one day. She remembers longing, more than anything, to visit the City of Light. Now that she’s here, she looks around her in wonder, and marvels at the silent celebration that the city boasts - she sees through the windows of houses the beautifully decorated trees, watches as little kids run around the town’s Square singing Christmas carols, notices the little market on the other side of the street lined with hanging lights and customers laughing and talking as they shop for their Christmas dinners. The hem of her red dress ruffles around her legs as the cool Paris breeze makes its way through the Square, making the paper lanterns gently float and rustle above her head. She is content. So lost in the beauty around her is she, that she doesn’t notice him as he finds his way toward her through the streets, as though knowing he would find her there. She looks up at him as he places his hands on top of hers and sits down on the chair opposite her. She smiles. She had never anticipated being proposed to by him once in her lifetime, much less four times. She does not question him as he holds out a ring in front of her; she does not stop him as he asks, “Marry me?”; she does not push him away as he slips the ring onto her finger. But she waits. Something is different - she does not feel the same exhilaration as she did before. She feels as though the moment is slipping from her even before she has agreed. She feels a little twinge of anxiety, because she’s sure that something is wrong. She feels her breath hitching as she starts to sweat, even in this cool weather. She cannot seem to form words anymore. He now begins to crumble - she can feel his hands turning to dust, his essence starting to slowly disintegrate in the wind, and she feels fear gripping her hands where moments before he had held her. She’s scared now, and in a panicked whisper, she manages to say, “Yes.” 

New York

She feels herself slipping in and out of consciousness. Her eyes are closed, but she is still breathing. Ragged breaths, but persistent. The clock on her wall now reads 11:57. She knows she is back in her room, no longer in the embrace of the cobblestoned streets of Paris. No longer with him. She can once again hear the low hum of celebration outside her window, once again feel the pangs of hurt she felt before. But this time, they hit her as intense waves. She feels sixty-two again, her body ready to give up on her. She panics. I’m not ready. She wanted more - so much more. She wanted to see more pages of brochures, more images of billboards, more of the stories he had told her that were trapped in her imagination come to life before her. She wanted the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes to replay a few more times in her mind’s eye. She was not done yet. She did not want to be. She did not want to leave him again. 

 She struggles against the impending darkness that inches closer, hoping that her mind would conjure up another scene for just a few more minutes. As she slowly dives deeper into the awaiting shadows, she sees someone. Not him, but a cloud of dark smoke that takes on his shape. He is floating toward her, hand outstretched. She can hardly see him, but he seems to be saying something to her. She wants to back away from him; she knows why he’s here now. She wants to be back in front of the cafe, wants the last time she sees him to be in the city she longs to be in but cannot. Despite her fervent wishes, the cloud comes closer and closer, and she can finally hear what he says, “Marry me. Be mine. Accept me.” She starts to cry - she does not want this. She wishes for just a few more moments with him in a different world, a world where she is a woman who is loved, who is wanted. A world where he is still there, and so is she. But she knows she can’t. The cloud now shifts into the grim figure of Death, with his hand still outstretched, waiting for her to join him. Death has never been more undesirable, she thinks. Her heartbeat begins to slow down, and her body starts to go limp. She tries to open her eyes for the last time, and manages to fixate them on the clock on her wall - 12:00. Despite herself, she smiles. Merry Christmas, she whispers, followed by a raspy, final, “Yes.”