A Wish Your Heart Makes

Candles flickered on every available surface.

When had she said yes to his touch? When had he placed his left hand against her side? At precisely what moment had she placed her fingers securely in his nimble grip? She couldn’t remember, yet here she was. He pulled her across the mottled floor, her emerald slippers sliding momentarily on the freshly polished marble, while the crowd gazed on, a foggy sea of muffled details gone from her memory before a second thought entered her mind.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. The quartet traded jaunty tunes for a more sedate waltz, each slowly suggestive note a silk sliding seductively across her skin. His fingers tightened on her waist, subtly counting the time. One, two, three — over and over.

“You summoned me.” She hated his self-satisfied smirk, teeth white against his dark skin. A black mask covered half his features but could do nothing to hide his cobalt eyes.

“I . . . didn’t.” She was sure of it. Why would he say such a thing?

“But you did. Every time you think of me, I will rush to your side.” His eyes smoldered with these words, and her body flushed with heat. Longing. Embarrassment. Joy.

“That’s insane,” she replied, deflecting.

Having none of it, he pulled her against him, his body molding solidly to her. “Isn’t that what love is. . . insane?” he whispered hoarsely against her ear, hot breath rolling across her neck.

“I. . . I can’t remember.” He was flustering her and he knew it. He was enjoying this game.

“You don’t have to. I’ll do the remembering for the both of us,” he replied, nonchalantly propelling her body out to twirl under his arm. The grin came back in full. “Are you happy?”

“No.” It was as honest an answer as she had been able to give in a long time. Thunder rumbled the window panes. A storm had approached despite the clear evening.

“I’ll try to do better. I know you hate my dancing.”

She scoffed, lightly pushing against his shoulder. Familiarity pushed back. “It’s not that at all and you know it.”

“I know. I just wanted to see your smile.” He laughed and she helplessly responded in kind. “There. I love that smile. Brightens the whole room, like a sun appearing from behind a hurricane. You haven’t smiled like that in too long.”

“Not much to smile about,” she retorted. Funny. They’d been circling the room for awhile, but her feet didn’t hurt. She wasn’t tired in the least.

“Isn’t there? Birds chirping, children laughing, the world going about its day to day.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confusion scrunching up his eyes. It didn’t matter that they were both concealed behind a mask. She knew what his expression would look like as well as she knew her own mind.

“Everything is so blissfully, infuriatingly normal, like the whole thing didn’t end.” Indignation rose in her breast. How could they all be so short-sighted?

“It didn’t.”

“It did!” Her ire turned on him, but before she could unleash it, he put a finger to her lips.

“Not for us, it didn’t.” He had never been so earnestly serious, begging her to understand his words. “I promised I would come when you asked. Did I break my promise?”

“No,” she admitted breathlessly. Had the room cleared out?

“Then believe me, my love. The world did not end, not as far as we’re concerned. We go on. We rage and pine and love. We find peace in darkness, because the darkness is nothing more than stepping into another room and waiting for the light to turn on. And our light shines. It shines on, forever and ever, illuminating the path so brightly it helps others find their own.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” she grumbled. He had never spoken to her like this before. “When did you get so philosophical?”

He barked a laugh, spinning her again. “Always had the potential for wisdom. Just didn’t apply myself before now. So, how about you smile, and we laugh and pretend I know how to dance?”

The song changed again, a slower series of notes — long, drawn out — not meant to count the beats, just sound to sway to. Their bodies molded together before she consciously made the choice.

Clinging, her head resting on his shoulder, she murmured, “I miss you.”

“Rest, my love,” he said, arms tightening around her. “Leaving you has never been an option.”

Her eyes popped open in the electrified semi-darkness of her bedroom, TV buzzing with Netflix’s Are You Still Watching? screen. Bleary, she reached a hand out to the other side of the bed. Blankets rumpled, her fist rested on the cold, empty space. Too cold to have felt the touch of a living human being in weeks.

“I miss you,” she told the blank ceiling, pocked with bizarre, sharp textures. Closing her eyes against the inevitable onslaught of tears, she prayed she might fall back into the dream.