The Luckiest (24 page)

Nik looks up at him then, his eyes bright. “You’re not afraid to leave here? It feels… I don’t know. Magical. Like everything that happens here is the exception to every rule.”

Aaron watches him for another long moment, then traces the slope of Nik’s nose and bottom lip with his forefinger. And then he says, “Sweetheart, that not the house. I’m pretty sure that’s us.”

Epilogue

A
selection of text messages:

From Nik:

Hey. I’m parked in front of your house. Still willing to meet me on the sidewalk?

From Alex:

Okay, we’re back in town and the parents have been appeased. Come over and look at pictures and tell me everything I missed!

From Alex:

And bring Nik if he’s there.

From Alex:

Also, I’m really liking the idea that I can get both of you in one text message. Very efficient.

From Jasmine:

Baby, when exactly are you leaving? NO movement on the job front and my dad is out of work again so my parents are being real dicks about me paying rent, so guess what! I’m going down to Corpus to stay with Joe for a little bit. Just don’t want to go until you’re gone, too.

* * *

A post from the “Year One” blog on the “About Our Students” page from the website of an MFA program based in New York City, Tuesday, July 7, 2015:

Part of my funding from the program is to work in the office this summer. It’s nothing earth-shattering; a little filing, answering some phones, that kind of thing. It’s a little gift, because I have the chance to get comfortable here before classes start and get my face in front of a few people, and I will confess that sometimes I have a little time to work on some writing of my own if things aren’t too busy.

I’ve only been on the job for about a week; I did take a little time to go home and see old friends at a wedding. I got to see my family, got to eat a bunch of food that tasted like home. It was hot, oppressively so, and there’s something about the sticky heat there that is so different from what we put up with in Manhattan in the summer; it’s not even the difference in the relative humidity levels, but something about what’s in the water in the air—a different kind of salt, or something. It just feels different. Or at least it always has. This last trip I didn’t notice it as much.

This school year that’s coming up is really exciting for me. I’ve been buying books, been poking around on the Internet to find old copies of syllabi to try to get a jump on what things might be like in September. And I’m starting to get my personal life ready for it, too. There are a lot of blogs about life as a graduate student, and they scare me; there’s a lot of talk about pleasing your advisor, and about the hours you have to work, and about how hard it can be on relationships.

And I’m sure it will be hard, but one thing I’ve been thinking about is how many hard things I’ve already done. I watched my dad walk out of my life (that essay was already published, just follow the link). I came out to everybody I knew in an unpredictably hostile climate (ditto the above). I moved across the country all alone at the age of seventeen, and I watched my first love walk out of—and then back into—my life (those essays are still baking, in part because I’m still living them). I’m really, really good at hard. I’m so good at hard that I feel like I have to do hard things and then write about it so everybody else can know how to be good at hard too. It’s arrogant, and probably pathological and egotistical as all hell.

All of these are reasons why I will do well here; I will fit right in. So I’m sure it will be hard, having a life and being a student and continuing to work. But hard is where I live, it’s what I do. I can’t wait.

* * *

More text messages:

From Nik:

On the ground. Missing you already!

From Aaron:

Already at the office. Go home, sleep for both of us, and then start packing.

From Aaron:

And call me tonight, please.

From Nik:

Packing sucks. I really have to bring *all* of my clothes, don’t I?

From Aaron:

Unless you want me shopping for you.

From Aaron:

Scratch that. As long as we’re on your budget, don’t pack a thing.

From Nik:

Walked right into that one. Nice try, though.

From Nik:

New York really is very far from Houston, and I am tired of the inside of this van. Turnpike after turnpike after turnpike. Just made it into Pennsylvania and I can’t believe how much more there is to go. Give me something good to look forward to.

To Nik:

Tara and Jamie left an hour ago to head to a friend’s house-share. For a week. I am all alone here. Whatever shall I do?

From Nik:

Hold that thought for a few more hours. Your layabout, grad student boyfriend is on his way.

* * *

A post from the blog “A Lone Star in Manhattan,” Saturday, August 1, 2015:

For the Texas friends: He’s here, so please stop texting him.

For the New York friends: He’s here, so please stop texting me.

For the New York friends: We’ll be ready to see people by Monday, I think. Thank you for your patience. He is much more charming than I am and definitely worth the wait.

For the Texas friends: Just… thank you for your patience. So much. That’s it.

* * *

From The Galveston County Daily News, Sunday, March 25, 2017:

Mrs. Laura Campbell is delighted to announce the engage­ment of her daughter, Megan Rose, to Mr. Joshua Broussard of Dickinson, Texas. Megan is a graduate of Texas City High School and The University of Houston at Clear Lake and is a teacher at Stephen F. Austin Elementary School. Mr. Broussard, the son of Karen Broussard of Texas City, is a graduate of Dickinson High School and an employee of Marathon Oil. Josh and Megan will marry in late July and, following a honeymoon to New York City, will reside in Texas City.

* * *

A voicemail message left on Aaron’s phone, May 11, 2017:

Aaron! Oh my God, why aren’t you answering your phone? I got it! My first byline above the fold, Aaron! I did it!

You have to come out tonight to help me celebrate. You and Nik.
Promise
me you’ll come out! Put down your thesis stuff, forget about the recitals and the grading and the portfolio and all of it, forget everything, just… just give me one night, Aaron. Because I earned this, and you owe me. And I’ll pay for everything, I
swear
.

Aaron! Oh my God, call me back. Immediately.

* * *

A post from the “Writers Gotta Write” blog section of www.aaronwilkinson.com, Thursday, November 1, 2018:

It’s cold here this morning, icy and gray and still, and the world feels a little bit hungover from the revelry of the night before. Last night our front door was barely closed, the energy of the frigid air in-out-in of the house with every little sticky-fingered Buzz Lightyear. (This comeback of Mr. Lightyear’s, by the way, this early resurgence of something I remember from my own storied trick-or-treating days, is the kind of thing that will make a young man feel old.) The price of being partnered to an arts academy’s very favorite music teacher, the cost of popularity among the prepubescent set, is that Halloween will always be a big deal.

(I say that as though I’m sorry. My mother made beautiful little stuffed cloth pumpkins and sent them to us along with two batches of pumpkin bread. The house looks and smells fantastic. We both come from a warmer, stickier climate and will always be grateful for fall. I
love
Halloween.)

The frost is on the punkin, just as the poet said; the frost has
been
on the pumpkin, and the jack-o’-lanterns have been in danger of freezing for weeks. Thank God for the candles, because in this weather every little bit of warmth helps. But the poet was right—it’s good energy. It must be, because last night I heard from my agent that the book has sold. I double-checked this morning, now that the witching hour has passed, and the email is still in my box, so it must be true. Somebody wants to publish that collection of essays.

The book. Has sold.

It’s cold here every morning now. I have to remind myself that it’s cold in New York now, too—maybe not quite like this, not with this bitterness so early in the year, but soon even there it will be cold enough to leave my eyes watering. But this is the time for fallowness, for the days to grow short, and it was always hard to see that in the city. It’s easier to see here, grounded as we are in the rhythm of the school year and surrounded by more trees, more things that grow than just people. It’s time for me to lock myself in my house with the person I love and let the music he loves to make fill our home. It’s time for my own stories to grow just big enough to fill one book, and then they can start to fill another. We’re aiming for publication in the spring, right when everything else will be shooting up anew.

Fall is the season to celebrate the harvest and prepare to live off of its bounty. We’ve worked hard through what feels like a long, sweaty slog of summers; we’ve toughed out some hard times in a blazing, merciless sun to make it here. We’ve earned the right to close our doors and sit quietly by the fire that we built and enjoy ourselves, just for a season.

And we will, as soon as I call everybody I know.

With love and gratitude, Aaron Wilkinson

The End

Acknowledgments

I need to begin by thanking the Interlude Press team for their support, hard work, and understanding. This book has taken a terribly long time to see the light of day, and it would not have made it here without their help. Annie, in particular, was a relentless champion of this book and for that I am grateful. Thanks are also due to C.B., the artist whose work you see on the cover and throughout the book, and to the IP team for making that happen. I couldn’t be more honored and pleased.

To Donna, Lucie, Christine, Leta, Tessa, Kerry, and anybody else who read drafts: From its very beginning to the latest version, this story has been made better by your advice and your feedback. Special thanks to those dear friends who were in that London apartment for its inception; I’m hosting the next eternal brunch, and even once the dishes are cleared I will continue to be grateful for your patience, your eternal good humor, and your love.

To the fans this story took root within and among: It has been a ride, hasn’t it? I’ve been so grateful and happy to take that ride with you. Thank you for your support and your friend­ship, and as always I wish you courage.

To my kids, who barely knew this particular project was happen­ing, but who learned to roll with a bump in the “mommy is work­ing” time with better grace than I did.

And finally, thanks for everything are due to my partner of twenty-two years, who makes me feel like the luckiest every day. Thanks, baby. This project is finally done. Now: What’s next?

About the Author

M
ila McWarren grew
up in Texas, but has happily made her home on the East Coast for the last decade. In her day job she works as a social scientist and she has spent the last ten years developing her fiction writing online. She lives with her husband and their two kids. When she isn’t working, writing or hanging out with her family, she likes knitting and watching television, because they go together like peanut butter and chocolate, two of her other great loves.

Questions for Discussion

1. What is holding Aaron and Nik back from each other at the beginning of the book? How does that change by the end of
the story?

2. What is it about Nik that you think appeals to Aaron so much? What about Nik’s interest in Aaron—why is the torch
still burning?

3. How does the social environment that they’re in over the course of the story affect the relationship between Aaron and Nik? Do their friends throw them together or hold
them apart?

4. Aaron’s friends are an important part of his life; even after they’ve geographically scattered, they save a space and make time for each other. What role have long-term friendships played during your life? 

5. How does what we see of Aaron’s writing change over the course of the story? Why do you think Aaron becomes
a memoirist?

6. The location for this book is a little unusual for a romance novel. Did you like it? What does the location bring to
the story?

7. How do the differences in the kinds of resources that Aaron and Nik have available to them as kids come between them? Do you think that those kinds of things will continue to be
real obstacles?

8. Relationships that begin when people are so young can some­times falter in the long run as people grow. Where do you see Aaron and Nik ten years after the epilogue? Is their relation­ship still going strong? What about all of
the friend­ships?

9. How do each of the characters face
adulthood differently?

10. Even though they aren’t active characters, parents play a role in
The Luckiest
. How do parents influence characters’ actions in
the book?