The Night of Many Endings

by Melissa Payne

Nora understood guilt and how it had long arms that circled and squeezed and made it hard to breathe. But she also knew that guilt had a purpose too. And it was a driving force that shaped her life, gave it dimension and meaning. She had survived the accident, but in many ways, Mario had not.

libraries were one of the last places someone could go where they didn’t have to buy or believe in anything to come in.

He’d been a sponge for her, soaking up her pain so that she could breathe again, even as he suffocated from it.

She loved him from a place so deep inside it scared her.

“Well, it challenged me to see that we are each the sum of our experiences and that every decision we make, every experience we have, leads us to this single moment in time.” She pointed to the floor for emphasis. “If all of our moments are important, then I wanted to use mine to help others, because you never know how it will all add up.” “Huh?” Jasmine said. “I don’t get it.” Nora smiled at the girl. “I think that my purpose is to give to others, to help in whatever way I can. And if it adds to their moments and experiences, if it shows someone who doesn’t think they’re worth it that someone thinks they are”—she worked her jaw, glanced at Lewis, but he’d pulled back into his coat—“then maybe it makes one of their moments just a little bit better.” It was what she wanted for her brother, for him to be reminded that he was special, that he was loved, that he was important to someone. And if she couldn’t do that for him now, then she’d do it for others and hope that someone out there would do it for him.

the stinging breeze of his own history, the hourglass remnants of his future.

His life was an old black-and-white film, and this group was the first bit of color he’d seen in a long time.

She felt the rumble of his chest from his laughter. He would laugh at her for thinking that. Once, he said that being married to her was like being married to a favorite TV show and he always enjoyed the programming. She had retorted that being married to him was like being married to an audience of one. That made him laugh, too, and his laughter was contagious. Their life together had been brief, but it had been a good one—too good, she should have known, to last until the very end.

There was something about the absence of light that made Marlene taste the saltiness of the girl’s tears,

his words hit her in a way that felt like carbonated bubbles floating to the top of an ice-cold soda, and she laughed.

She and Lewis laughed together at that, and for the first time in a long time, Marlene felt different. A door, a window, or maybe only a crack had opened up inside and let some of the bitterness and grief leak out.

He’d made her smile more than she’d smiled her entire life.

they’d moved the way a couple does when they’ve been married for decades. Symbiotic. Like how a flock of birds flies across the sky—coordinated and confident that where one is, so are the others.

The old woman was like a sour candy. Sour but surprisingly sweet enough to make you want to have another.

“Your purpose isn’t to save the world, Nora, or to save Lewis or me, or Mario for that matter. It never was.” “Then what is it?” She could barely get the words out because her throat had closed over a lump. Marlene touched her face. “To be you.” “I’m not sure I know who that is,” Nora whispered. Marlene just smiled and laughed. “Nobody does. That’s why we have each other.”