September 27, 1973

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When the door opened, and Nadjia walked in, she was uncertain what it was she saw. She dropped her backpack, staring at the entire crowd in her living room; the entire crowd stared back.

It took a moment for her to realize what was happening.

The banner, the streamers, the colorful decorations; no one yelled surprise!, but they did not have to.

The look on her face was enough.

"Jon?" Nadjia's voice weakly carried over the crowd.

"Right here." Jonathan stood next to her, doing that thing she hated, where he seemed to just appear. Nadjia chirped in surprise, and swooned a little. Jonathan steadied her.

"What's going on?"

"Your birthday, Nadjia." Jonathan's voice was low, almost a whisper.

Nida spoke up from the crowd, cutting her way through. "These are all the people who helped you get better."

Nadjia smiled, and her legs felt weak. "I would like to sit down, please."

There was a chorus of soft laughter in the crowd, and Jonathan helped walk her to the den, the crowd of celebrants parting as she passed through. Jonathan guided her to the couch, and Nadjia sat down.

Jonathan sat next to her. "Happy Birthday, Nadjia.

✟ ☧ ✟

In the nine short years of her life, Nadjia never knew surprise.

Until she was five, she did not know what she did not know, and would not know what she was missing until a boy donated the bone marrow that would contribute to saving her life.

The truth was - and always would be - the surprise party paled in comparison to the inexplicable feeling inside her, one she did not understand, but understood she would eventually find the answer... and an answer she hoped somehow included Jonathan; Jonathan who sat at her right hand now, as nine candles flickered over her birthday cake.

She had no idea how to react, being this her first surprise party.

Her first birthday party.

Ever.

Unlike Jonathan, Nadjia did not dwell on what may not have been had things ended different.

The thought that she could be a year now in the cold ground never once surfaced, not even during the ordeal itself; she never gave up, never once concluded that this was it, or all it ever would be; she never reached a stage of denial, or bargaining.

There were only two forces on her life driving her toward survival.

The faith that death was not an option, and the desire to be near family, and her best friend just one more day.

Every day, in the worse pain, before restless slumber engulfed her, she prayed, and said aloud to herself just one more day.

Maybe her mom and dad were devastated, and would be devastated had she not survived, but there was something - something deep inside her - greater than pain, suffering, or even death itself... and so, Nadjia lived.

She survived, but it was not only that she survived, she was alive; she felt alive; here, at the table surrounded by the five people she actually knew, and the so many she did not; these what-ifs, and the what-is were not in her thoughts, but the surface thoughts of Jonathan Walker, seated beside her.

Why she detected them, unimportant to Nadjia; only that she knew, even if it did not show on his face.

Beneath the table, she reached for his hand, and interlacing fingers with his, they held hands as they did when they were little.

She squeezed his hand. It's okay. I'm okay.

Of course he could not hear her; of course he could not know what she was thinking.
Most of the time, she was certain - too certain - that it was all in her imagination, her connection to Jonathan.

He squeezed her hand.

Nadjia made a wish, and snuffed the candles out on a single breath.

There was applause, and cheering, and Nadjia understood none of it, but again, understood that it was big - huge - and whatever this was, it was bigger than she; bigger than Jonathan.

Bigger than anyone - everyone in the room. The thoughts came in flashes, brief waves of intense emotion that all at once were absorbed in the applause, and just like that, with her nine years officiated by those responsible for its continuity, she was only certain one thing, and one thing only.

The boy, whose hand held hers, was the most important thing in her world in this moment, and all those moments past.

Nadjia hoped it would always be.

✟ ☧ ✟

Of all the gifts given Nadjia, none so matched the marrow in her bones, once made gross by the poison what drove her deadly illness into oblivion, the part of her that once belonged to Jonathan; the marrow that by some miracle was a match for her.

Fine dresses, and glittering jewelry gifted by wealth she could not imagine; of course she was grateful, holding the dresses up to herself to display that they were well appreciated, and would be well worn by her, and how the peridot gem in her new golden earrings complimented the olive in her skin; her favorite gift though was a four-hundred-ninety-three page book signed by the author William Goldman, a book called The Princess Bride.

The gift was to 'The Princess Buttercup', and signed from 'Wesley'.

Had the writing not been Jonathan's distinct cursive, Nadjia would have know from whom the gift had come.

Then, they danced.

Nadjia waltzed with Jonathan, her first real dance. "Where did you learn this?"

"Mom insisted." Jonathan was not much talkative as they danced, but as they danced, he never took his eyes off her. The blue was deep, and commanding, and Jonathan was thankful he was in them.

"Jon..." Nadjia felt a moment of fear, but pushed through it, leaning into him, and kissed him on the mouth.

There was a flash of light around them; Nadjia did not see it, though the wide eyed Jonathan walker saw it all too clearly.

The flash, the pop of the bulb.

The electronic buzz of the camera.

He closed his eyes.

"Way to go, Nadjia!" Someone's voice mixed with warm amusement called from across the room as the music suddenly stopped.

Nadjia pulled away from her kiss, blushing, and stepped back from Jonathan, and this time Jonathan swooned. She steadied him with an arm, and the moment was broken.

There was motion among the party goers. Jonathan followed the movement, a photograph passed between hands. Some shook picture a few moments, looked and passed it to the next until it reached Clayton Walker's hands.

Clayton's smile said it all, as he stepped toward Jonathan, and Nadjia. He showed them the photo, Nadjia kissing Jonathan, and Jonathan's eyes wide in the picture.

"I'm mad at this." Jonathan's voice was low, as Nadjia dropped her eyes to her feet.

"Well... if you want I can destroy the evidence." Clayton made as though he were going to tear the picture in two.

"No!" Jonathan, and Nadjia hurried to stop him in unison.

"Oh!" Clayton smiled, lowering the photograph, "Okay, then. I'll just put this away. Hide the evidence."

Jonathan scratched at the back of his neck.

Nadjia giggled a little.

The music resumed, and Clayton turned with the photo in hand. He glanced over his shoulder, only for a moment, and left for the front door. The music resumed, and others began to dance.

Jonathan, and Nadjia left the dancing together, and watched.

Amir and Nida danced among the guests, and Nadjia stole a glance of Jonathan. He was still blushing, but he certainly did not look angry, if he were.

"I couldn't help it." Nadjia watched the profile of his face. "I'm sorry, Jon."

Jonathan turned to face her. "Don't be. I'm not mad. You just... you caught me off guard. I'm not used to that."

"Being caught off guard?"

"Being kissed by Nadjia Sharif."

Nadjia giggled, and moved a little closer to him. They stood there a long time watching the guests - complete strangers to Nadjia - as they danced.

"If you told me five years ago I would have a ballroom, and there would be dances, I would not believe it."

"You're a big deal, Nadj. The biggest."

"So are you, Jon."

Nervous, Jonathan offered her his hand again.

The two returned to the floor, and they danced.

✟ ☧ ✟

Nadjia held the framed picture, staring at the image of Jonathan's wide green eyes, the surprise on his face, the kiss...

"Jonathan..."

The lodge was empty.

"Nadjia, I don't leave until my twelfth birthday."

"...then I have until then worry about your leaving."

"I have to."

"I don't like this! I don't like that we have no say!"

"What do you want, Nadjia?"

He yelled at her. Nadjia was quiet, wide eyed. Jonathan looked immediately guilty. "Jonathan..."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. This isn't easy for you. It isn't easy for me. I didn't know this was coming."

"Your 'advanced education'."

"My having to marry you."

"Now you have to marry me?" Nadjia folded her arms across her chest.

"Good night, Nadjia. I'll see you later." Jonathan did not move. Not at first. He turned away from Nadjia.

"Fine, you idiot boy. Go! You fucking coward!" Nadjia's voice echoed through the lodge. She gasped, and covered her mouth with both hands.

"Nadjia, you cursed!" Jonathan turned to face her again. He had tears on his cheeks.

"You're crying? You?"

Jonathan nodded. "You said a bad word!"

Nadjia rushed forward, toppling into Jonathan. He caught her without effort, and held her. Nadjia struggled a moment, and when the fight was gone, she wrapped her arms around him, and sobbed.

Jonathan whispered. "You said the 'F' word."

"I know."

"...but you called me a coward."

"You are."

"I didn't know, Nadjia. I swear. I knew I had to go off to advanced education. I didn't know about the whole marriage thing. Do you think I wanted this?"

"You don't love me?"

It was Jonathan's turn. There was little struggle.to get his arms free from her embrace, and he wrapped his arms and her.

Jonathan imitated Nadjia's hint of accent. "Idiot girl. Stupid, stupid, idiot girl."

"You're not allowed to say that."

"If I let you go, are you going to hit me?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Then I won't let you go."

"Good, Jon. Don't."

Music began to play over the speakers in the lodge. Jonathan looked past Nadjia, and saw his dad by the record player. He made a circle in the air with his finger, and shrugged. Jonathan would shrug, if Nadjia were not holding him so tightly. Clayton nodded, and left, hurrying past Jonathan and Nadjia, and out the double doors behind them.

"That's our song." Jonathan let slack his hold on Nadjia. She made no attempt to hit him.

"We don't have a song."

"Don't be dumb, Nadj. The song's half over."

"What is it called?"

"The Last Waltz."

Jonathan took a step back, and offered her his hand. Nadjia took it, and they moved to the floor, and they danced.

✟ ☧ ✟

They danced that night in the lodge, until the music stopped, their last waltz outlasting The Last Waltz.

When the music was done, they danced.

When Clayton came into the lodge, they were still dancing, slow dancing, in an embrace Clayton had to struggle to pry apart.

"So," Clayton separated them, each in a separate hand, at an arm's length from himself. "Nida, and Amir asked if they could have tonight. Nadjia, you'll be staying over."

Jonathan looked surprised.

"Told you, boy. Married folks only. Eventually will have to do for tonight."

Jonathan stared from his dad, to Nadjia, and back.

"Cool your heels, son. She's got the guest bedroom."

Jonathan blushed. Seeing Jonathan blush, Nadjia blushed.

Clayton ignored it. "Load up, kids. Let's roll."

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