“What do you mean?”
“In this house. It looks like it hasn’t changed in fifty years.”
“When I took the leave,” she said. “I came back here.” She looked up at the ceiling, like she could see through it to the farthest corners of the house. “This place means a lot to me, but I’m wondering if maybe it’s time to do something with it.”
“Just like me,” I said. “For me, it was my father’s cabins.”
She put her elbows on the table. She leaned forward and looked at me close. “I’ll give you one thing,” she said. “You were right about the people at work. Nobody would even look me in the eye anymore.”
That was all I needed, just the way she had moved toward me. It was a little thing, just a few inches. But it was enough. I was building another bridge over another chasm, this one maybe the biggest of all. Another bridge, another connection. Another step for me on my way back into the human race.
Outside, a northern wind picked up. It was cold out there. It was cold and dark.
“You’ve been through it,” she said. “You know how it feels.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I had to do it alone.”
She kept looking at me. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I said. “You feel like making a toast?”
“Depends on what kind of champagne you brought. Is it any good?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I’ll get the glasses,” she said. “Don’t go away.”
I didn’t. And that’s how it began.
Happy New Year.
