Nevertheless

At 4am in an auditorium with row on row of three-level bunk beds, everyone sat up for the lecture. I climbed up a ladder, and sat next to a sleeping girl with brown hair. The notes coming out of my pen made little sense on the page, but I felt like I understood the professor’s lesson. Maybe.

When class was dismissed, the girl woke up to the bustle of rushing students and met my gaze with hazel eyes. “I love the sunrise. Don’t you?”

“Rise and shine,” I said, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s go. I found a place.”

She threw on a sweater, and we went through hallways to the janitor’s closet. Pulling away a tile on the wall, I helped her into the tunnel labyrinth, then followed her. “Left or right?” she called out from ahead.

“Straight,” I replied. “A new path.”

After much crawling, we emerged through a vent into an old portable classroom. “I haven't been in one of these since elementary school,” my companion marveled, and fiddled with a gumball machine on the teacher’s desk.

I once sat in the seat dead center at the front, but said nothing of it. “This isn't the end,” I said, and left through the door. “Come on.”

We went through the forest, the tall trees growing where the old schoolyard once was. Sunrise approached, but I kept a steady pace, looking back to make sure she was still following. She smiled, and pointed at the end of the trail. “We’re close?”

“About halfway,” I said.

“So far!” she complained, but laughed and rushed ahead, stepping onto the wide road.

I was leading her to the new location, yet she was the leader of my heart. Her steps were light, light as the sunbeams on the first morning we reunited. I hollered directions to the love of my dreams, enjoying her profile each time she turned back. 

She was the nineteen-year-old I met on the deck of a ship, but also the lady of twenty-six who saved me. Her lips were a kaleidoscope, showing me so much more than I could ever see all at once. So many years later, she was the same inconstant enigma. Standing at last on the concrete platform at the edge of the creek, her hand shielded her hair from the wind at dawn.

“The view is beautiful,” she said, moments before daybreak. “Do you love the sunrise?”

“I do.” I stepped closer. “Do you remember your name?”

“You’d never let me forget,” she teased, and threw her arms around me. “Two minutes.”

The sun rose. For two minutes, we listened to the birds and the cicadas, and felt the warmth of the sun burning on our lips.

I woke up in a room illumined only by a soft glow east of the Saint Lawrence River. I made my bed, and called my wife. “I dreamed about us again,” I said. “We watched the sunrise at Beaver Creek.”

“Good morning to you,” she said. “Guess where I’m standing right now.”

I paused, and closed my eyes, picturing golden arches shining through the last of night. “The McDonald’s checkout on King and University.”

“Wrong. Parked in the lot, waiting for them to open. Twenty-four hours, my ass!”

I laughed, and looked out my window at the waters of Alexandra Basin. “When are you heading to the airport?”

“In an hour, once I have an Egg McMuffin.” Her voice was tired, and expectant. “First thing when I’m back in Waterloo, you know what I want you to do? Kiss me straight on the lips. I need to feel young again.”

“Don’t we all,” I said, and sighed for the first time in years. “Listen, could you do me a favor?”

She hummed. “I’m listening.”

“Go to Beaver Creek, and watch the sunrise with me.” I started getting dressed. “Do you know when the sunrise is in Waterloo?”

“Twenty-two minutes after Montreal,” she said, and groaned. “When you called, I suspected I’d have to skip breakfast.”

“Sorry.” I tucked in my shirt. “Does Carice mind?”

“She’s napping. Never mind, she opened her eyes. Say hi, ma chère.” A moment later, a new voice came on the line. “Morning, Dad.”

“Morning, dear. Watch the sunrise with Maman, okay? Skip your coffee today.”

“Fucking kill me,” she said flatly. “I’ll do it if you wake up Eilish.”

“I think she’s already awake,” I said, and beckoned to the seven-year-old standing in the doorway. She rushed over, and took the Samsung. “Tu me manques, Carice.”

“Miss you too, kiddo.” My eldest daughter’s tone softened to a purple velvet. “Go get dressed. We’re watching the sunrise as a family.”

“Okay,” she said, and returned the phone with a kiss on my cheek. I watched her go, and went back on the line. “She didn’t even say hi to Maman,” I chided as I closed the door and put on a dress shirt and pants.

“Is Eilish gone?” my wife said on the line. “Damn it, Carice.”

On the other side of the line came a torrent of laughter and hysterical pleading. As I was about to ask what was happening, a familiar voice cut me off.

“I tickled Caroline for you. Death to all Carolines, everywhere! I had money on FTX, bah . . .”

“Tara?” I was confused. “What are you doing there?”

“She drank too much, and crashed on the couch,” Sarah disclosed.

“Tell her she’s too old for that,” I said, and fastened my belt. “Are you taking her home?”

“I’m coming to Montreal!” the architect announced. “Make sure the guest room is spotless.”

“I should return it to the sorry state you left it in,” I said, but was glad. “How’s Solomon?”