“That’s part of it. But also … I want to give 2018 Oona something to look forward to.”
He tapped a finger to his chin, weighed the statement. “Then I guess 2018 Peter will also have something to look forward to.”
When the year ended, she wouldn’t be ready to go, but the clock would have no sympathy. Her next leap would always hover on the horizon, unavoidable, waiting to whisk her away.
In some cases, waiting to grant a wish from years ago.
PART IX
All Tomorrow’s Parties
1983: 19/26
30
“Happy New Year!”
Warm lips pressed against Oona’s and firm arms wrapped around her as the room erupted in celebratory shrieks. Eyes closed, she returned the kiss and tightened her arms around a man who’d always felt like home. Eyes closed, in case it wasn’t really true, in case it was a figment.
I need to be sure.
Oona opened her eyes.
She was back in Dale’s basement, back in the mirrored room, surrounded by her motley group of friends. A small television across the way showed Times Square ushering in 1983 while all around her, people popped streamers and created a cacophony with noisemakers and their own hooting.
This better not be a dream.
It wasn’t.
Seven years of disorientation and strange navigation. Seven years of wandering and wondering. Seven long years until she returned.
Oona stepped back and there he was. Dale. His smile lopsided, his big brown eyes full of all the love in the world. She glanced down at her sequined dress and leather jacket, then back up at him.
“It really happened.” A flood of joy, so acute it hurt. “I’m really back. You’re back.” She held a hand an inch away from his face, scared to touch him in case he dissipated before her.
“What’s the matter with you?” Dale cocked his head.
But it wasn’t a mirage. His hand against her cheek said he wasn’t going to disappear, at least not tonight. Barely able to keep her head above water as vacillating emotions threatened to drown her, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “It’s you. It’s finally you.”
He pulled back and squinted at her. “Are you okay? Did you have too much champagne?”
A wild laugh. “No, I’m fine. I’m great. So thrilled to see you, you have no idea.”
“I’ve been here all night. You make it sound like it’s been years or something.”
Seven. Seven years.
“Sorry to interrupt your sickening lovey-dovey moment, but I need to borrow this man for a minute.” Wayne tugged on Dale’s sleeve and jerked his head upstairs. Oona took in her friend’s Jheri-curled hair, red leather getup, and fingerless gloves, and she laughed again.
“What are you grinning at, missy?”
“Just … eighties fashion is the best.”
“Any idea what’s gotten into this one?” Wayne asked Dale.
“I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
“Clearly, the girl isn’t drinking enough.” A soft elbow to her side and a wink. “Why don’t you have another while we take care of something upstairs.”
Oona nodded, too choked up to speak. But she wouldn’t take his advice, because she wanted to remember the rest of this night relatively sober.
The partygoers swayed to the mid-tempo synths of a Yaz song and even Pam did a cautious two-step to the music. As if sensing she was being watched, she looked over at Oona, who gave her a sad smile. I promise I’ll visit you in London.
A moment later, the music was cut off, the basement lights dimmed, and Dale and Wayne came downstairs with an ice-cream cake lit up with twenty candles, nineteen plus one to grow on.
The room burst into a rendition of “Happy Birthday.” The cake was decorated with music notes, her name spelled out beneath it in blue icing. Oona couldn’t hold back any longer. The tears came so thick and fast, they extinguished two of the candles before she blew the rest out. Everyone around her cheered and the lights came back on.
“Did you make a wish?” Dale put an arm around her waist.
“Yes.” Though it’ll never come true.
Wayne whisked away the cake to cut pieces for everyone.
“I’ve got one more surprise for you.” Wiggling his eyebrows, Dale held out a tiny box wrapped in silver paper.
Inside was a gold chain holding a miniature hourglass pendant.
“That’s real sand in there, too,” he said.
“Several galaxies’ worth, I bet. It’s lovely,” breathed Oona.
“We had the best summer,” he whispered as he helped her fasten the clasp.
“This summer will be even better.” She sneaked a peek at the inside of her wrist, but of course: no tattoo.
What would happen to the necklace in the coming years? Why didn’t she have it later in life?
Later could wait.
“Come here.” She pulled him close, inhaled his cologne and hair gel, mixed with the smell of her new leather jacket.
What’ll happen to Dale’s jacket after he dies? Will he be buried in it? Another lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down. This line of thinking was no good. She had to cast aside the future’s certainties—getting pregnant in the late summer, giving birth to a son Dale wouldn’t live to see the following spring. She had to pretend she didn’t know what would happen next year. It was the only way she’d enjoy this one.
Suppressing tears and sighs and future wisdom, Oona wrapped her arms around Dale’s neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, oblivious to the whistles and hollers around her. The kiss opened a gulf of bright light inside her. She’d lost count of all the men she’d kissed in the last seven years, but none came close to Dale D’Amico. None kissed her back with such transcendent passion. (Maybe Peter Han would, but that was for Future Oona to determine.)
And still the sorrow threatened at the edges like a tidal wave on the horizon. How could she keep it from engulfing her?
Corey came over. “Hey, so should we go ahead and tune up?”
In the corner of the room, a wooden platform had been erected as a makeshift stage. On it were Corey’s drums, Oona’s Yamaha keyboard, and a couple of amps, which propped up Dale’s guitar and Wayne’s bass.
“Shit,” she said under her breath. There was no way she could play. It had been years since she touched a keyboard. Oona’s mouth went dry. “I need to call a band meeting. Could we go outside for a minute?”
Corey, Wayne, and Dale exchanged curious looks but followed her to the backyard.
The air was so cold it singed the inside of her nostrils. “I have a couple of announcements to make. First of all, I’m going to drop out of school, to spend as much time with the band as possible. And you.” She pointed to Dale but held him back when he moved toward her. “Hold on, you might not like this second part as much.” Big breath in. Out. “I hate playing the keyboard. I’ve been taking guitar lessons and I’ve gotten good. I’m going to keep playing the guitar no matter what, and I’d like to stay in the band, but I never want to touch that Yamaha again.”
Corey and Wayne exchanged a wide-eyed look; each took a step back.