Forever and Ever

.

Oh, how the world changes in an instant.

They met at first and it was innocent. A midsummer party in the woods; her hair was down, her smile vibrant, her little red dress clinging to her body. She walked to him first, with all the grace that you'd expect from an Elizabeth, her heels in her hands like everyone else, and her dazzling laughter made him smile, this little homesick French boy, and he had no choice but to slowly start to fall in love with this girl.

Her horse was so elegant compared to her as she would labor up on the mountain, a carton of eggs precariously balanced in her arms (We are civilized, you know, we have eggs), but that damned smile would somehow make her the most perfect picture he had ever seen, no matter how her clothes hung or clung to her body. Her cheeks would be rosy from ascending too fast in too-cold weather, and Mario would scold her, but she wouldn't care one bit and she'd take him into the kitchen as Stan would excuse himself as they baked cupcakes.

Cupcakes. How he missed them.

He'd head down to the stables, this boy who hated horses and who came to this land for the stars, and he'd try and saddle up a horse so he could figure out why it made her so happy. He never did discover a love for it, but it was pleasant, in some sort of way, for him to ride in the forest no matter the time of day. And if he was lucky, and terribly silent, he'd see a flash of gray with a red-headed rider atop of it, whooping in glee as they raced behind another white-and-blue blur. Perhaps these were private moments, not ones meant for him to see, but he couldn't help himself, going deeper and deeper into the forest to see her face lit up with nothing but pure exhilaration and joy.

Stan would laugh at him. "I remember when I was girl-crazy," he reminisced, his eyes glazing over with memories of lost loves. He would shake his head, thinking this girl would only be a summer, a winter, a spring fling. They would never last forever, and some petty argument would break them up.

Mario still remembered her hands guiding his as they drifted across hot candy canes, how she laughed at how his curved too much or too little compared to hers--always perfect. (Reminds me of someone I know. Oh, you!) Her eyes would crinkle at the corners, and suddenly he felt so flawed next to her while not minding one bit.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" she whispered once. "I don't need to believe if I've already found you." She smiled, and turned over and slept a dreamless sleep. Mario would stay awake for another hour, just basking in the happiness he felt of having this girl next to him, her hair in his nose, her smile on his lips.

Picnics under the northern lights--with eggs, since they were civilized, after all--on his blanket that smelled of her, for some reason, with her leaning into his chest as he pointed out the constellations.

"That's the sister," he said, half asleep, "one of the zodiac signs of Jorvik," but then Elizabeth would correct him, "No, that's Orion, that's the sisters, and over there is--"

How many nights had he spent pining after her? How many of their kisses did he still long for when he was asleep and when he was awake?

Mario never was one to believe in fairytales, but he may or may not have helped Elizabeth pick seven wildflowers during the summer solstice, and he definitely did not sleep with seven of those under his pillow and dream of her, absolutely not of their future together on Jorvik with her starting a little bakery in northern Jorvik and him working at the AAE museum and operating the telescope, and he did not dream of their daughter named Celeste and how he'd buy a fancy ring that had a sun-shaped diamond in the middle--she always liked the sun, and, hey, it was also a star--and he absolutely did not have his vows memorized.

What kind of fool would do that?

The same kind of fool who would find comfort in her hugs and her blanket, in how her eyes twinkled when she knew a joke that you would hate, the same way when she dropped an egg on the way up the mountain, the same way her laugh would twinkle as she climbed a tree after you and you shared the sweetest and briefest of kisses.

Oh, did it have to change?
When did it change? Mario couldn't tell you, although Elizabeth could. And yet all of a sudden, Elizabeth showed up at his door in tears, and Stan looked the other way as he consoled her, and she couldn't tell him why, wouldn't tell him why, said it would be a secret, even after he swore he'd learn to love horseback riding and would name three stars after her, and he felt something shift.

How she suddenly started hating pancakes and refused to talk about the moon, and how she looked at the stars like they had betrayed her personally and how she said she felt the sun was wrong, and, well, Mario was concerned, since this was absurd for her, and he was going to suggest she see a doctor, but then she'd disappear and he'd wonder why he remembered pink all of a sudden.

It didn't matter, though, did it? Because he was hers and she was his, and they had promised, forever and ever, and so he shrugged it off--and bought a ring, the one he dreamed of, and although it wasn't a diamond, it had a sun, and he figured that it'd be good enough for her--the love of his life, right?

And then she started to visit less often, and his visits to the village started showing less and less of her, and when he did find her...

She had lost weight, too much weight for such a skinny girl, and her face was so sharp and her eyebags terrifyingly dark that Mario rushed over. She pushed him away, but she found him later and he held her as she cried, whispering that she didn't know how to do things and how everything was falling apart, and no, no he couldn't help, it's her burden to bear and she couldn't tell him what it was, and Mario felt that maybe he shouldn't ask her to accept the ring at that exact very moment.

He saw her, once, wearing all black, but not her usual style, and there were tears on her face, and he knew someone had died. But who? She never told him, and he learned to stop asking after a few days.

Her hair was thinning, and when she'd visit and sleep over you'd find fistfulls of it stuffed under her pillow in the morning, but Mario never said anything, always there to help, but she never asked for help.

Maybe he should have insisted.

They stopped talking. They would still see each other, and just sit in each other's company, but no words were exchanged. What could be said? What had happened to his Elizabeth? His forever and ever? He didn't know, but he couldn't stop himself from asking, so he just didn't speak at all. Neither did she, too afraid that she'd spill all of her secrets.

And eventually, Stan figured out the recipe for cupcakes by himself, and he'd have her cupcakes but without her really being there, and present in them, and Mario stopped wanting to eat them, and eventually even the candy canes turned sour without her.

She stopped visiting. He kept looking for her, but with no results.

He wore the ring on a string around his neck--rough patches happen, right? But they could get back together soon, right? Stan kept his mouth shut. To be honest, he didn't know the answer, either, but he didn't want to crush his hope. Mario kept searching for his own star, to name after his own Elizabeth.

And then...

He knew it was over. There was a postcard on the table. He had gotten up before Stan for once, and he wandered out--and there it was, and they never did lock the observatory and Elizabeth did know how to get in silently...

Concorde's dead.

And so am I.

He ran to the stables--no, she wasn't dead, just on a trip to... well, they weren't allowed to stay, but he noticed how there was one more empty stall than normal, and he knew it was true.

You know, he never did take the ring off. Look under his scarf--tied in that French knot, just like she taught him, and you'll see it.

Forever and ever.