Promise Me Sunshine

by Cara Bastone

But the thing about losing the person you love the most on earth is—somehow—you still have to do mundane things like tie your shoes and make enough money to continue to exist in this punishing world.

And isn’t that ultimately what everyone wants? To feel fulfilled?” “Known.”

“What elicits genuine awe for you?” He’s one hundred percent skepticism. “Mmmm.” I consider the question thoroughly. Just to win. Just to vex him. “Waterfalls? Shooting stars? Men shedding the bonds of masculinity? A truly killer sax solo? Pants that actually fit? Tulips! Croissants! Fresh cherries!

“So you’ll come with me if I ask?” His eyes pierce me in the shadows of the kitchen. “Lenny, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

“Lenny, when I look at your face, I feel like I’m finally home after a really long day at work.”

“I’m never sleeping when I close my eyes like this with you.” “Then what are you doing?” He pauses and I think he might not answer. But then he says, “I’m committing the moment to memory.” I freeze and melt at the same time. There’s a quick flipbook of moments that skim past. Miles with his eyes closed on this very couch, on the tattoo table, beside the swimming hole, on the floor at his mother’s house. Never sleeping, just savoring. Committing it all to memory. Committing me to memory.