Page 117 of Over the Edge

“Rehearsal.” Avery switches the camera to show the room. Dancers are stretching and checking their phones. “We have five minutes so I’m going to grab headphones and you can tell me everything as quickly as possible without anyone eavesdropping.” Avery swivels away from Wes and grabs headphones.

She takes a seat on the pale wood flooring as I tell her the CliffsNotes of the last month and a half. Garrett slips away and leaves the bedroom as we catch up. I confirm with Avery that yes, I got the T-shirt with the Sleepy Time Tea bear on it from her to add to my collection and that I will be wearing it today. There’s a sharp clap and a call for break to be over. We say our goodbyes.

There’s a slight chill in the house, it’s been dipping down to the thirties at night with fall in full swing. As I promised Avery, I pull on the shirt she sent in addition to sweatpants before heading downstairs.

I have to catch myself on the wall of the entryway when I see what’s been waiting for me and a laugh rockets out of me.

“I decided not to ask, and I still don’t want to,” Quinn says, glaring at the cake that readsWe made it out alive.

“They didn’t have anything else,” Garrett explains.

I walk to him and he settles his hands on my hips. I go in for a kiss but at the last second brush my lip to his ear. “Liar. Does this mean you’re also not going to sing me ‘Happy Birthday’?”

“I would never. What would you do with your hands?” he murmurs, and my heart sings at the simple fact he remembered.

I cup his jaw and my lips melt into his. Not just my lips, my bones, my soul. It all melts knowing that he’s there to catch me.

“I got you something,” he says against my mouth. Garrett pulls back and grabs a rectangular package. “I had to bribe a bookseller for this.”

I tear apart the wrapping and the back of my eyes sting with how perfect it is. It’s stupid to get this emotional over something I won’t ever crack open.

“I didn’t know you read Hemmingway,” Oliver says.

“I don’t, not really.” I shake my head.

“Thank God,” Quinn adds. “I can put up with a lot but you becoming a classics snob is where I draw the line.”

“Okay, good, now I know how to get rid of you,” I tease.

There’s a handwritten note on the inside.

Every shrine has to start somewhere. Let this one start with me.

Realistically, I know he could have bought me something extravagant. He didn’t. Instead, he used his gift to me to say something far more important. Even the small moments we’ve shared matter.

“We went in on it together.” Oliver hands over a package with crisp corners.

Quinn’s somber eyes latch against mine. “It took a lot of time and emotional labor to return to purgatory.”

I tear open the wrapping then open the plain box inside to find more blueberry products than a person could ever need. I pull out tissue paper revealing more treasures as I go: lotion, a T-shirt, a book on the history of blueberry farms.

“You asked for paraphernalia, and we went back and got all of it.”

“Is this a bong?” I manage to get out through gasps of laughter.

“Due to its lack of ventilation,” Quinn says, “I think it’s a vase, but I was sorely disappointed after I went through the same thought process at the store.”

“We could have a completely different day. But I guess we can get a different type of flower,” I say and place the vase on a side table.

“What do you want to do? There’s this pedal tour on a railroad through the Catskills that looks interesting,” Quinn suggests, then looks between the rest of us for our thoughts on the matter.

“There are many things that could be fun, but that sounds like endurance exercise and I’ve never dreamed about that as a birthday activity,” I say. “It’s your last day in town. Let's just wander.”

After a breakfast of pancakes drenched in locally sourced maple syrup we go into town. No matter how much I’d like time to come to a standstill, it keeps moving. Oliver and Quinn will be leaving soon, but so will I. My rental is over the morning after the festival. My time here wasn’t supposed to be any more than a research trip. I tried to keep some distance, but I’ve still managed to fall for it.

It’s the best type of day for doing nothing, the sun is bright, but the air is crisp. Leaves have been raked into piles. After stopping at Love is Brewing, Oliver takes a bite of Quinn’s apple cider donut while she’s turned away. She catches him which prompts a chase around the gazebo. He lets her catch up and they tumble into a pile of leaves, her landing squarely on his chest. Leavespoke out from their hair and Quinn breaks off another bite of the donut before stuffing it in his mouth.

“Here, have more if you want it so much,” she says.

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