“Come along, then, we’ll miss our trolley.” My father is bossy. By the quick stride he takes up the mountain, no one would be able to tell he nearly died eight months ago.
Declan ignores him, is too slow to move as we near the visitor’s center. In his hands are three lawn chairs, and a blanket is slung over his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem encumbered by their weight. He is too intent on the mountain around us. The Smokies are beautiful, captivating, and he seems unable to make his eyes stop moving around the looming trees or the mist seeping up from the peaks.
“Deco, come on now,” Joe barks, pulling my boyfriend out of his trance.
“Alright you old bollocks, I’m moving.”
I still haven’t gotten used to their banter. It shouldn’t surprise me. They aren’t blood tied, but Declan has adopted some of my father’s most colorful expressions, even scratches his growing beard just the way my father has always done. I should be unsettled by this; I am, after all, embracing that “little girls date their daddies” cliché, but it doesn’t worry me. They are both good men.
We finally manage to reach the trolley, jumping aboard just as the engine starts up and, after a quick eye roll at Declan, my father relaxes, pulls his walking stick between his knobby knees. “This will be fine, lad, you’ll see. I believe Autumn was ten, perhaps eleven the first time we took her to see the swarms.” He stretches around Declan who sits between us. “Beautiful, wasn’t it, love?”
“It was, Da. I remember that.” He nods, a small jerk of approval and then Declan and I exchange a smile. We’ve so effortlessly become a family. It surprised me how quickly the awkwardness went away. Declan and I have been inseparable, spending most nights at my apartment and then less so once Joe was released from the hospital. He wanted us together, but I don’t think he liked how many nights Declan slept in my bed. Or the fact that his little girl was old enough to have someone sleeping in her bed.
Still, we have formed a routine. We have family dinners every Sunday afternoon after Mass, which Joe insists we attend together. And we attend every match Declan plays, home and away, Dad and I make sure we never miss a single one. They even made my first holiday season without my mother bearable. We ate pizza and pies at Thanksgiving because Joe’s attempt at a dinner was a disaster. My baking was not. And Christmas we spent at Ava’s. That had been wonderful. Ava and her finally returned husband and Joe and Declan, and I settled around the table, exchanging stories, holiday memories and before too long, I wasn’t thinking about my mother’s absence or how she would miss many more holidays with our newly resurrected family.
Joe gave me comfort. Declan offered tomorrow.
When the tour guide stands up, his thin, pale legs blazing against his red cargo shorts, Declan fits his hand over my knee, encouraging me closer. He does that. Wants to always touch me, doesn’t like it when he’s not.
“Good afternoon, folks, welcome. This is going to be a treat for you all, and before we let you all settle down to grab a good spot to see the swarms at sunset, let me explain the scientific…” the guide babbles on, describing the internal sensors of this species of fireflies; the time it takes for the insects to detect each other, the tit for tat play of their lights bouncing back and forth and the performance they undertake. He isn’t wrong, it is a beautiful sight, waves of blinking lights that cascade through the mountains; a wonder of nature.
We finally are released from the trolley and Joe makes quick work laying down the blanket, unfolding the chairs, organizing our comfort like this is the most monumental outing we’ve yet to attempt. There have been many over the past eight months since Da seems desperate to make amends for the years we’ve been a part. I don’t mind; neither does Declan.
The sun sets and the crowd around us grows quiet. Cell phones are extinguished, placed on vibrate; children are shushed and settled in their parents’ laps and then, small flickers begin. My smile is wide, remembering the last time I was here. My father settled my mother on his lap, kissed her neck until I complained and she laughed at my grim expression, embarrassed by their blatant affection.
Declan must catch me smiling, because he sits up, touches his lips against mine and I inhale, loving the way his kisses never fail to electrify my skin. “You’re beautiful. Every day, but especially when you smile, McShane.”
“Sweetheart,” Joe whispers, his voice urgent. “If you don’t take Deco’s mouth from your face, he’ll miss the show.”
“Right, sorry.”
Declan turns away from me and his green eyes catch the light from the swarm. The fireflies are majestic, flicking dots of light back and forth, a symphony of streaks that swing through the trees, that rumble across the mountain and my breath catches at Declan’s expression. It is open, the same unguarded expression he gave me the first time he admitted he loved me. It is usually reserved for me alone, a private view at what emotions have hold of him, but now, sitting here in the dark, watching his shock, his amazed grin as the fireflies dance through the night, I wish that he shared it more often. To me, it is more beautiful than the specks of light dancing around us.
I watch Joe’s face, his gleaming teeth broad against the same light, joy lighting up his features so that if I touched him, just now, I could feel the current of his happiness skimming into my skin. My father points across the sky, shows Declan one thing or another that fascinates him and they wear similar smiles, contentment that I don’t believe I will ever tire of seeing.
I remember the moment I said goodbye to the past. It was out there on that murky trail at the Dash, with exhaustion—and elation—pressing on me, weighing me down as Tucker, my yesterday, reached for me. I thought that moment was so profound, the greatest instance of power and hope I’d ever felt. I was wrong. This is. Now, in this place watching the two men I love most in the world; my father who left so that I would not be hurt by his past and the boy onto whom he had transferred all his love and affection.
My Daddy.
My Declan.
Right now, at this moment, I celebrate today and tomorrow both wrapped together and resting in my heart.
I love you, Today, because you give me peace, you give me a sense of who I am meant to be, because you proved that not every word is a broken promise. And I love you, Tomorrow, because you are limitless, because every thought, every hope I have right now is reflected in you. I can’t say I love you too much because my heart is an all-consuming, constantly replenished source of potential. It is full, bursting with hope, with serenity.
“It’s a sight, isn’t it, love?” Declan whispers against my ear. He leans over, runs his thumb along my bottom lip.
I smile, rest against his warm chest, enjoy the sound of his steady heartbeat. “Yes,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”