My twenty-first birthday, and I have bought him a gift he can’t refuse.
He is older than me and I know that bothers him. He hasn’t expressed as much in words, of course; he’s not that kind of guy. But he is my kind of guy.
“Wait a few minutes,” I chirp, “I need to get dressed.”
I put on the blue dress that he likes, the one I wore on the eve of my graduation, the one that swept him away.
Three months we have been going out, and I can tell that he’s the one. I mean, a girl just knows, doesn’t she?
“Hurry up!” he chirps back, and I have a fix on him now; he is just two blocks away, heading towards my apartment on his sweeper.
I have his gift in my hand when I open the door, but he beats me to it.
“Birthday surprise!” he says, giving me a cheeky up and down, holding his sweeper aloft like a prize kill. “It’s even faster than mine – I clocked up ninety on the McGovern road, and it didn’t even wobble.”
I don’t know what to say. A new sweeper – it must have cost him a fortune.
“Thank you will do,” he says, chirping a big smiley which fills my entire field. “And what’s this you were saying about a gift for me?”
I wait until he collapses into the sofa before I show him the ticket.
“This is it?” he says, eyes closed, scanning the words.
I was hoping for a more immediate reaction. Surely he recognizes the logo?
“Futurebreaks?” he says at last. “I don’t understand…why would we?”
I sit down beside him, snuggling up. “It’s not for us, silly, it’s for you. You’ll only be gone a few months, and when you return, I’ll be…”
I can tell by his eyes, the way they’re flickering and scanning, that he is free-searching. I give him a few seconds, let him do the calculations himself.
“A three month round trip at a hundred gamma? Louise, you’ll be nearly fifty…”
“Exactly! The same age as you. Won’t that be fantastic? And before you ask, I want to make you a promise…”
He looks concerned, confused.
“OK. Let me spell it out. I love you, and I want you to know that there won’t be anybody else. For all the time you are gone.”
And I mean it. I will miss him like mad, but I can throw myself into my career. Twenty eight years is a long time – I might even make professor.
A sadness has come over him, a sadness that I don’t understand. He told me that he has no close family to speak of, and that he is nearing the end of his earning phase. Now is the perfect time. So what is bugging him?
I try to think of something to lighten his thoughts. “By the time you get back, I’ll be a whizz on this sweeper…”
“No, Louise. I can’t do this. I mean, fifty…”
There are tears in his eyes as he gets up and leaves.
I try to chirp him a lover’s heart, but his core has blocked me out.
