Isola

by Allegra Goodman

My deepest wish had been to stay at home, but that was over now. My life had contracted to the space of this small room, and his eyes filled me.

“If we are separated, remember that you have me. You can’t lose me because you have me already. Do you understand?”

“I keep thinking I am dreaming,” I said. “To be here?” “To be anywhere together.”

I felt a joy I had not known before. It was not love, and it was not comfort, nor was it mastery or beauty, but it was usefulness.

“He is mortal,” I said, even as fresh snow erased his tracks. All traces of the creature disappeared, for winter made a mystery of everything.

And this was another weight. Not only missing him but knowing what he missed.

My love was mortal and particular.

I wept for joy because I could escape, and for sorrow I must leave alone.

“Oh, but tomorrow never comes,”