- 23.
Ethan and I both attended our alma mater’s
anniversary celebration. He was giving a speech
as a distinguished alumnus. The school hadn’t
changed, only the faces, young and fresh-
faced, cycle after cycle. There would always be
someone young, full of dreams and ambition.
My alumni name tag slipped from my pocket. A
senior picked it up, her eyes widening. “You’re
Maya Evans?” “You know me?” “I interned at
Mr. Jones’s company. You’re kind of a legend
there.” “Really?” I’d visited Ethan’s company
once, sitting in the reception area while I waited
for him. The receptionist had had the same
reaction when I’d given her my name. “You’re
the Maya Evans?” I still didn’t know why. The
11:39
student explained, “There’s a core algorithm in the company’s main project, something Mr. Jones wrote himself when he first started the system. He left a comment in the code: ‘If you ever meet Maya Evans, tell her I love her.‘
Everyone who worked on that algorithm has
seen it.” I was stunned into silence. The student smiled brightly. “It’s so romantic. He finally
found the person he was looking for.” After
Ethan’s speech, we walked around campus, retracing our old steps, our old life. We stopped at the library. Ethan looked at a large tree nearby. “This is where you confessed to me.” “I remember. I was so bold back then.” He gazed at the tree, lost in thought. “Ethan, were you happy in college?” He’d struggled, been ridiculed, felt alone. I imagined he hadn’t been happy. But Ethan said, “I was very happy.”
“Because of you, even the hard times felt
joyful.” He turned to me, his gaze soft and
familiar. “Maya, now it’s my turn.” “It’s been
almost nine years since I fell for you. Give me a
chance, okay?” It started to snow again.
Snowflakes landed on Ethan’s hair. I smiled.
“Happy New Year. I look forward to it.” Happy
New Year, my boy. Happy New Year, my youth.
Even with regrets, we will always be our best
selves.
