Because the Night

christmas night, & the end

Diego drove. Up they want, retracing the same roads that Annabelle and Lily made on that fateful day not so long ago. The farther they went from her house, the colder Lily felt. Like she was moving away from the people who protected her. Her people. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked as if he knew. Diego rested his hand on her knee, as if to say, I'm your people, too. 

She shrugged. "Nervous." 

"Don't be," he said. "They're going to be relieved you're there. You know that, right? You were the missing piece. I was lonely up there. I'm realizing part of the reason my dad was so cold, is so cold, is that he's afraid I need more than he can give him. And he's right. I need you, Lil."

Her heart was growing dangerously close to bursting, and Christmas was no day for a hospital visit. The nurses and doctors were probably all annoyed to be working on a holiday. Anyway, she wanted to be lucid to enjoy this, this miracle. She couldn't believe that this man was not only declaring his love for her—he was saying that she made his life better. That's how she felt, too. Life was good without him, but it would be better with him. 

"Still nervous?" he asked.

"No. But tell me about everyone, so I know what to expect."

"That, I can do."

By the time Lily and Diego walked into the lavish private dining hall, reserved for the Moody family functions, she knew everyone.  Moses and his brother, Kevin, who lived in California. Old man Thomas, who could barely stand but still insisted on drinking everyone under the table. Of course John and Dexter. And women—lots of them. Agatha with the purple hair, a distant cousin who stayed close to her hotel-owning relatives. Sharon, Dexter's wife. Tiana, John's. Lily was hardly alone in women who have survived Moody men. She was among her people, too. A different kind. 

The moment they walked through the door, the people in the room literally cheered.

"You did it!" Tiana exclaimed at the same time her husband said, "Told you!" Even Moses was beaming, maybe the biggest surprise in a day of surprises. 

Not only did Lily feel welcome—she felt like she fit in all along. The Moodys were weird, yes. But waiting on the other side of that ritual were people who'd been through craziness together, and who could it again—which was what the hotel business entailed. Lily didn't know if she condoned the system, and if she'd want it for her own kids. Undeniably, though, the ritual made her and Diego more serious about each other than they might have been otherwise. 

"We'll get you a seat, Lily," Moses said, getting up. Suddenly, a waiter materialized and started laying down a plate and fork next to Diego's chair. A few inches shifted, and there was suddenly room for her at the table. Lily can't remember who asked what happened first, but she and Diego were expected to launch into a play-by-play of the last few hours.

"Was he romantic?"

"Did he get you a gift?"

"I told you he was a softie on the inside, didn't I! I know I did. Let me find the text." 

"Did you slap him? No judging if you did." 

Lily and Diego answered all those questions, but not the others. If this meant they were getting married. Where they would live. What the future looked like. 

Those were questions whose answers they had to figure out on their own. Whose answers were their own. Lily and Diego had already owed the beginning of their relationship—and a lot of drama—to the Moodys. They wanted to chart their own future. 

Underneath the table, Diego traced patterns on Lily's knee. He only used a fork at the table, and hoped that no one would notice that his knife hand was writing messages that would fade instantly. She couldn't discern what he was writing, but she knew what it meant. Each flick of the finger, a reminder that she was right where she was supposed to be: By his side. 

"The food is as good as you said," she whispered.

"Get used to it," he said. "This is one thing my family does well. No strings attached."

After dinner, most of the family waddled over to the Christmas tree in the lounge where Diego and Lily first did tango. Far and away the largest tree at Highland, it took four people to foist up. White lights and ornaments passed down through the generations. It was a spectacle. And it wasn't where Lily and Diego were going. 

He led her down the hallway's creaky corridors. "Do these ever get less haunted?" she asked.

"No. That's part of the charm," he said. 

"Where are you leading me?" 

"Can't a man have surprises?" 

"The one earlier today almost made me cry, so maybe reconsider this one," she said, laughing. Then he made an abrupt turn and pulled open a door that led to a porch overlooking the lake, which was completely dark. You could only tell that there was water there because of how dark it was—murky and moving at the same time. 

Then, Diego pressed a button, and a tree in front of them—which she hadn't seen—lit up. In a flash, a tree in the forest suddenly became a Christmas tree. 

"Every day can be Christmas," he said. "All you have to do is turn on this light." He pointed to a light switch on the side of the building, brown and crusty-looking. "Try it." 

She turned the light off. The forest went dark. On, and there was one fairy tale tree. "How did you do this?" she asked. 

"I have my ways," he said. "And I owe a couple of big favors. But it was worth it." It really was. The tree was like a piece of a more magical world accidentally left in this dark, difficult one. Which is a lot like what love feels like, actually—like you couldn't quite believe what you'd found. 

"It reminds me of that song," Lily said. Humming. She couldn't remember the name. Some oldie her mom liked. 

"That's 'Because the Night,'" Diego said. "Patti Smith. Bruce Springsteen wrote it." Diego started singing the chorus himself: "Because the night belongs to lovers, because the night belongs to us."

"You old man. Of course you know the song," she said, laughing and curling up into his side. "But yeah. It does. The night belongs to us now. You made it light up."

"I want you to know that no matter where we are, or how overbearing my family gets, there will always be a spot that's just ours," he said, taking her in his arms. "Come here, turn on the light, and know I'd do anything for you. From now, until however long you'll have me."

She wanted to say, I'll have you forever, but she didn't need to make decisions like that now. That's the great thing. They had time, hopefully. All the time they needed. 

"I can't imagine not having you," she said, tipping her head up and kissing him. "You know, I didn't get you a present."

"Is this the moment I'm supposed to say, 'You're the only present I need?' Because you are," Diego murmured, into her neck. The night was getting colder, but she wanted to stay outside, near her tree. 

"If every day is Christmas, then I guess tomorrow still counts," she said. 

"Exactly." He kissed her again. Instead of going inside, Diego and Lily sat on the rocking chairs and looked at their tree. 

In the days to come, they would come here often. After the first dance classes they taught together. After their first official breakfast with Moses, like they one they never got to have. Their first sunrise over the lake, and the sudden cool of their first sunset. Years later, they returned on their first night of living together, as a couple, at Highland. After their first fight because of how messy Diego kept the bathroom. Lily's first gray hair. Their first daughter and their second. 

Then, after all the "firsts" were through, Diego and Lily kept returning to the spot. Holding books, or glasses of wine. Sitting in silence, and rocking in the chairs that had grown accustomed to their bodies. Happy as they were the day before, and happy as they'd be the day after.