Page 47 of Ticket to You

The words hang heavy between us, thick with equivocality. I hadn’t thought of it before, but the idea of this trip not being our goodbye, the possibility of working with Ophelia again,beingwith her again, it’s enough to send my mind reeling. I roll onto my back, anxious for mental release through sleep, but the charged silence between us makes me feel like I just chugged a Red Bull.

“For the record,” I say, popping the tension like a balloon, “I would be a Bernese Mountain Dog.”

“I can see that,” Ophelia hums. “Maybe a bit intimidating at first, but a marshmallow deep down.”

25

OPHELIA

A partof me was hoping to wake up in the same fashion as yesterday morning. Something about it made me feel all warm and liquidy, and for the first time, I understood why my grandpa said his favorite part of the day was waking up by my grandma.

But today, Adam wakes me with a shake against my shoulder. I find myself flung out over the mattress, the duvet twisted between my legs. When my eyes adjust to the morning light, I see Adam isn’t lying beside me—bummer. Instead, he’s perched on his side of the bed, his hand still on my arm, electrifying it.

I almost don’t recognize him. Across his face is a smile—a big, genuine smile. His eyes are squinting, not in a glare, but because his smile is pushing his cheeks up.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my morning voice sounding more like Kermit the Frog than I would like.

Instead of answering, Adam pulls a small porcelain plate from his nightstand. Around a slice of cake, “Happy Birthday” is piped in swooping, chocolate sauce lettering. I look at Adam from under my eyelashes, still convinced it might be a trick. In all the stress of the trip, I completely forgot my birthday was coming up.

“Gemma told me about it last night. Sorry, I didn’t have a chance to go to town to look for candles. I was also limited to the gift shops to look for a gift, so no judgment.” Adam hands me a bundled-up plastic bag with the resort’s logo on the side. “It’s everything you could ever want from Switzerland.”

I take the bag slowly, allowing our hands to touch for a moment. I could hold my hand here for hours, but Adam pulls away and coughs once, always a professional.

The first thing in the shopping bag is a postcard of the hotel, the Alps towering over it in the background. I turn it over, but before I can read his writing, Adam snatches it from my hand, blushing a bit.

“Sorry, this isn’t for you. I forgot it was in there.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Whatever, weirdo.”

Digging back into the bag, I pull out a box of Swiss chocolates wrapped in red foil. Next is a mini Swiss Army Knife. The last item is a pink rubber watch with strawberries along the band.

“I know you’ll be getting your grandpa’s watch back when we’re back in New York, but I thought you might like a placeholder. It’s no Cartier, but it’s Swiss made and the only options they had left in the gift shop were this or Snoopy and Woodstock so—”

“I love it,” I whisper with a soft, amused chuckle. “Here, help me put it on.”

Adam grabs my wrist gently and straps the strawberry-print band around it. He pauses to watch the seconds tick, and I watch his hand holding mine. Something in me wishes that time would stop moving so fast. There are only two days left for our trip, and then Adam will be off to who-knows-where working on his new magazine.

After a few moments, Adam straightens and drops my hand back onto the bed. I look around the room, too embarrassed by my blushing to meet his gaze. He taped a string of homemade bunting made out of brochures ak. Below that, three pages of printer paper are taped up with Y-A-Y spelled out in thick, black letters.

Adam laid out breakfast for me at the desk. My plate is full of the things I chose from the buffet yesterday and liked enough to finish. He even brought me a steaming cup of coffee with just the right amount of creamer. He’s been watching.

“You did all of this?” I ask, breathless.

Adam shrugs timidly. “Yeah, it’s your birthday.”

I think back to my past birthdays, and, surprising myself, I reminisce out loud. “Growing up, my grandparents made the biggest deal out of my birthday. They would pull me out of school and take me to Oklahoma City to go to the library, museum, or zoo. My grandma would make me whatever dinner I requested, and my grandpa would always make my cake, decorating its uneven, thick icing top with toys from Dollar General. They said they never wanted to miss any opportunity to celebrate me.”

Adam nods, but, as he usually does when I’m opening up, he stays silent.

“After they passed, I went years without celebrating my birthday. It didn’t feel right without them. But eventually, Gemma pestered HR enough and convinced them to tell her my birthday. Ever since then, she’s made a point out of keeping me busy every year. We go to a Broadway show, take impromptu trips, or visit MoMA. But it’s not a celebration. It’s about getting my mind off missing my grandparents…”Until now.

Adam must see my trembling lip, because he hurries to my side, wrapping an arm tight across my shoulders. He doesn’t need to speak to communicate his earnestness.

My eyes feel warm and wet, and I study my new watch to distract myself from my emotions. “Thank you, Adam. This means more than you know.”

“You deserve to be celebrated. Even if it looks a little different now, with shitty DIY decorations and presents wrapped in a grocery bag and a trip with a guy you can’t stand.”

“Well, I haven’t beentotallymiserable on this trip.”

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