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She can probably tell my own words are charged with much more than a job offer, but says nothing. I don’t need to talk, I just want to keep looking at her, just being here around her. Coming for the kids’ birthday was the best idea, this visit was a proper introduction to her world, with meeting her friends, whose scrutinizing gave me the worst stage fright.

I might have gotten the seal of approval from at least Lola, who was the last one to leave and I heard her whispering a tad louder before leaving, ‘He’s a keeper.’

I sure hope so, I almost jumped in, but opted for pretending to not have listened.

‘Luuk?’ Ada has walked in front of me, a picture book in her hands. ‘Will you read to us before you leave?’

Corrie looks disappointed at my decision to not impose. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?’

‘Mark has tickets for an Irish band, so I thought I’d let you rest, and we can do something together tomorrow.’

‘But now we’ll put something in our heart’s pocket.’ Otto has joined us, looking at the book.

‘Couch?’

I sit and they each take one side, giving me the book. I’m familiar with the story of the little girl who doesn’t like it at all when her aunt’s visit is about to end. So her aunt tells her to open her palm, presses a kiss on it, then tells her to close it, so that the kiss won’t go away. As expected, the girl wonders whether she’ll have to keep her hand into a fist all the time. Her aunt explains the kiss will go in her heart’s pocket, which is a pocket that has plenty of space for all the lovely things we want to safekeep, from sneezes, to birthdays, to days on the beach.

I made sure to buy a copy of Gracie Fills Her Heart’s Pocket right after Iris gave them the book, so that we could read it together during our video calls. But now I’m here, and no screen can replace presence. Their heads lean against me and they murmur the words I read to them, because they know the book by heart. After it ends, I ask the question that’s part of the ritual.

‘What will go in your heart’s pocket today?’

‘You…’ Ada says. ‘I love that you came for our birthday.’

‘And that you will stay for more days,’ Otto adds. ‘I don’t like it when you leave.’

‘Can you stay forever?’ his sister asks.

‘Maybe someday.’

My eyes meet Corrie’s, who’s standing at the French door, facing the garden as the rain resumes. Our gazes meet the other’s reflections on the glass and it’s as magical as it is melancholic; as if our other selves, the ones living in a parallel universe, can actually meet, co-exist in that other world. I walk towards her, my eyes never leaving her, and stand at a distance that won’t allow us to touch, but creates this heat, like photos of auras merging.

My phone’s ping breaks the magic.

Mark

Here early, see you soon.

‘Time to go?’ Corrie asks.

‘Yep, but I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I turn to the kids. ‘Think of something you want to do that will go in your respective hearts’ pockets.’

The kids agree, we hug and I head for the front door followed by Corrie. I spin slowly to face her, to the sound of the kids back to their presents. Her smile is like a hug that almost makes me text Mark and say I can’t go, after all. Especially when her palm raises to the center of my chest in a tender rubbing move.

The action makes my heart race. Corrie does feel it because her eyes widen in surprise, and a silent question passes between us, as our lips make a futile effort for words. Our bodies provide the answer, as our faces start moving towards each other in millimetres, our breaths now forming a warm invisible cloud, and in hers, I can still smell the mastiha liqueur that Dory brought, and I wonder whether I’ll taste it on her lips, in her mouth.

My phone pings again, and I almost curse at the sound pulling us apart.

Mark

Having a beer at the bar.

I sigh and type.

Me

See you soon.

Corrie