by C. L. Ryder
“Lily Golden,” I answered.
“Lily, hi,” a woman’s voice said from the other line. “My name’s Robin Morris from Homeowners Mag. How are you this evening?”
Robin Morris. I immediately bolted up in my chair. Robin Morris was the CEO of the company.
“Uh, great, how are you doing Mrs. Morris?”
“Please, just Robin. I’m doing great. The reason why I’m calling is in regards to an open position we have for a staff photographer.”
My heart was thundering now.
“Okay…”
“I’m calling you directly because I’ve gotten a personal recommendation from a good friend of mind that you are the one for that job. Now, typically I don’t do this. We’re very selective about who we hire, but when I saw your portfolio, I was convinced. So, I’d like to ask if you are interested in a position.”
My head spun. Linda. This was what she had meant. I felt an explosive mix of emotions—a stubborn anger at what she had done to Winny, what she had said to us that day—and I considered saying no out of spite. But then I remembered what Winny had said to me earlier—“She’s trying her best.” Linda wasn’t a bad person. I had accepted and believed her tearful apology. She was just set in her ways, stubborn, the kind of person who had trouble admitting she was wrong. She was trying her best.
“I am,” I said. “I would love to accept the position.”
Winny, who was working on her project, looked over at me when she heard this.
“Great. Come by and see me tomorrow at two o’clock. We’ll get everything sorted.”
“Thank you, Robin. Goodbye.” I slowly set the phone down on the table, trying to keep a hold of myself.
“What was that about?” Winny asked.
“That,” I said, turning slowly to her, “was Robin Morris. The CEO of Homeowners Mag.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?!”
“I just got offered a job!”
“Holy shit!”
We both leapt out of our chairs and ran to each other, and Winny threw her arms around me. “Oh my God!” she beamed, laughing gleefully. “You did it!”
“You’ll never believe who got me the job though, Winny.”
“Who?”
“Your mom. She’s friends with Robin Morris and put in a personal recommendation.”
“Oh, my God…” she whispered, her eyes wide.
It was then that I knew that everything would be okay. From that gesture, I knew that Linda would open up to us being together—no, she already had. It might take her a while to be completely comfortable, but I would accept her olive branch. And what an olive branch it was.
“Okay, well,” Winny said, “I’ve got something else to propose to you, and this seems to be about as good a time as any to do it.” She squeezed my hands. “Lily, being with you has been the most fulfilling thing in my life, more than architecture, more than design, more than music.”
That’s when she dropped down to one knee in front of me. I gasped.
“You’re the love of my life, and that’s why I want to ask you to marry me.”
I didn’t think heart could take this much good news. If I felt lightheaded before, I was practically on the verge of passing out. “Of course,” I said. “Yes, of course I will.” I didn’t need to think twice about it. I pulled her in and kissed her, the fireworks exploding in my head just like it was the first time.
Epilogue
We were married in August, just a little over a year after we first met. The wedding was small and private, held secretly so that we didn’t have any unwanted guests. The team of photographers flitted around snapping shots of the two of us, and I felt a weird urge to double check that they had all their bases covered. I restrained, laughing to myself as I remembered Carol, the mother of the bride at the wedding where Winny and I had first met.
Frankie and Alex were our best men, and at the dinner, Alex gave a hilarious speech about how he was pretty much the reason why Winny and I were together.
My parents, who were conservative in their views, had to my surprise changed their opinions on the matter when they found out that I was a lesbian. They came to the wedding, beaming at me from the front row. Linda was there too of course, and she still carried an icy look on her face—but when Winny and I kissed, I saw her smiling, a stream of tears running down her cheeks.
The crowd of our friends and family stood and cheered, and as I stood there with my wife, I could see the rest of our future together—our beautiful home in the countryside, built to her exact specification, the walls hung with my photography and my photo books plugged away on the bookshelves inside. She and I, our hair streaked with grey, sitting out in the front as she strummed a song on her guitar while I listened with my chin in my palm just like always.
And as that vision faded from my mind, I knew that things would be perfect.
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