I took a deep breath. Then I wrote that last paragraph as I had written all the others—simply, truthfully—and I prayed it did justice to the fifteen hundred paragraphs that had come before it.
When the last word was written I dropped the pencil and cried. I didn’t care that I was in a café, feeling both exhilarated and crushed. Everything I had been working for, this was it. Done. Finito. No más. Writing a great book is no guarantee of anything, but it’s the bare minimum to have a chance, and I really felt like mine was good. After ten minutes, one of the baristas asked if I was okay. I looked up at her with my tear-streaked face and told her that the world was a fierce place and a tough place but goddamnit it’s still worth fighting for all the same.
I left the coffeehouse, and as I walked by work, I called Cathy and told her I wouldn’t be coming in today. I bought a dozen tulips after I jumped off the train. March 23, winter still forging on with confidence, the temperature in the midthirties, the ground wet with standing puddles from the melting snow. Carolyn lay asleep when I made it home. I shook her awake and placed the flowers on her chest. She opened her eyes.
“Did you buy me flowers?”
“I did.”
“Why, silly?”
“Because I finished the novel this morning. It’s done.”
“Really?”
I nodded. She sat up and wrapped her arms around me.
“That’s so great. I’m supposed to be buying you flowers, though.”
“Nah,” I said and kissed her on the lips. “I was thinking of going out for a nice dinner tonight. You, me, and Gene, maybe Linda from work.”
“That would be great. I would love to meet her.”
“Good. I’m going to walk up and ask Gene.”
She leaned into me and kissed me on the lips again. “Congratulations, darling. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I said, flying inside.
Gene was already showered and dressed, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
“Kiddo! What are you doing home?”
“Just finished the first draft,” I said. “No way I could sit through work.”
“You did? Very nice. Congrats.”
“Thank you, Gene.”
“How do you feel?”
“Pretty damn good.”
“Good, good,” he said.
“Anyway, I wanted to see if you’d be interested in coming along for a celebratory dinner tonight.”
“Well, I did have a couple date offers I was entertaining.”
“Really?”
“Hell no, of course I’m in for dinner. Where are we going?”
I laughed. “Not sure yet. But let’s plan on eight.”