Chapter 19

November 2015

I'm in Lebanon covering the suicide bombings in Beirut, which isn't the best way to get into the holiday spirit. Everything is so desolate right now, so hopeless, that it doesn't feel right knowing there's a plane ticket back to Washington in my pocket.

Hana calls me nonstop while I'm here to confirm that I'll be visiting Chicago for Thanksgiving, and I hate to tell her that everything's up in the air right now. I don't want to break her heart again after I missed Thanksgiving last year because I was sent to Canada to cover climate change.

I'm just thankful I'm finally doing field assignments again instead of editing articles and other mundane office work. I knew it was the right decision to stay with National Geographic just to see how things would progress. This is shaping up to be my dream job after all, and Johanna's been an absolute joy to work for. Some days I still miss Amar, but then I'm reminded of everything I've built here. Johanna tells me I have so much potential and considering my youth, she thinks I may be able to get far in this field.

My phone rings again from my nightstand. It's Zeke. He's probably been commissioned by his mom to interrogate me about my holiday plans. I don't feel like talking to him right now, as unfortunate as that is, so I ignore the call.

I know he's annoyed with me. I haven't visited anywhere near as much as I promised when I first moved to Washington. And now that he and Shauna have welcomed a third party to their family, Arabella Grace Pedrad, since May, I know he wishes I was able to spend time with their family. I wish I could see them more, too, but it's not like they've made any efforts to come to Washington to see me settled. I know it isn't convenient for the three of them to travel to D.C., but it's also not the opportune time for me to travel to New York with my recent workload.

I still feel guilty about it. Zeke and Shauna make sure I do, and with the holidays coming up, Hana and Uriah are back on board. Even my mother's called me with countless questions about my plans.

Another phone call, and I groan. This time it's Johanna. Even if I'm not in a talking mood while I mull, I can't ignore a phone call from her, and I doubt she'll grill me about my holiday plans.

"Tobias, just calling to ask if you're planning on putting in vacation days for Thanksgiving." I guess I was wrong. "We all have the holiday off, but you've accumulated about two weeks of vacation time if you wanted to take some time off and visit your family."

"Well, do you know if there are any assignments up for grabs to look out for?"

"Towards the end of the month, we're going to need to send someone to the United Nations Climate Change Conference in Paris, but I was thinking we could send David, since you've been working so hard lately, and he already has some familiarity working there."

"But he's been busy with that article about the increase in earthquakes throughout the world. He's in India right now. He should stick with that assignment."

"So you won't be using your vacation days?" she asks. "You know, once the year ends, they won't be there anymore. If you don't use them, you lose them."

"I still have one month," I remind her.

"Oh, but by then, you'll find another assignment to convince me to give you. You've been giving me so many wonderful pieces, and I regret that we didn't give you this kind of work sooner, but you don't have to prove anything anymore. We all take you seriously. We all respect you as not only a photographer, but a reporter, too. It's okay to give yourself a break."

"That's how you fall behind."

"That's how you wear yourself out."

I let her words sink in, and they do have an effect on me, but still I say, "Don't call David. I'll take the Paris assignment if you're offering it."

"I guess I am. You leave for Paris the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I'll have HR book you a flight from Dulles."

My phone beeps, and I see that Zeke has just sent me a text message: Give me a call when you can. The guilt from the message eats at me inside.

I ask Johanna, "You said I have Thanksgiving off, right?"

"Yes, you do, but if you're taking an assignment only two days after, then I don't think you truly get the holiday."

"And I get back to Washington on the 20th? The article's due on the 22nd?"

"That is correct."

"Then, is there any way to have HR book the flight from Midway International in Chicago? I'd like to start my vacation on the 23rd to visit my family."

She doesn't sound frustrated with my request, which is a huge relief, as this is the first time I've asked for time off since I started at this job. Then again, she was practically trying to convince me to take vacation days, so there wasn't really anything to worry about in the first place.

Instead, she says kindly, "Yes, that can be arranged."

I'm almost giddy when I call Hana with the news because I know how much it will please her. Neither one of us is disappointed. I'm coming home for Thanksgiving.

I arrive two days before Zeke, Shauna, and Arabella do. It's a little strange being with Hana and Uriah without Zeke, but I'm absolutely comfortable just catching up with the two of them.

Uriah's talking to me about his classes when he's distracted by something on his phone. He looks up suddenly and says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you! I invited Tris, too. She flies in tomorrow. I'm so sorry I forgot. I don't want it to be weird between you."

I laugh. "She hasn't told you that we're friends now?" I ask him.

His eyes widen in surprise. "She may have neglected to mention that."

"Yeah, she came down to visit me last year, and we've been keeping in touch. Thanks for the concern, but we get along just fine."

"You two just had such an explosive break-up," he points out, and I glare at him only half-jokingly. Tris and I have both apologized to each other since then for the way we behaved that night.

"Like I said, we're all right now."

"Okay," Uriah concedes, dropping the subject altogether. "I'm excited to see her. She couldn't make it last year. She went to visit Caleb instead."

I nod. "I saw some of the pictures on Instagram. That's when the guilt of not being able to make it last year really hit. You know you've sunk low when Caleb Prior can make time for his family, and I can't."

Uriah chokes on his beer. "Yeah, that's hard to swallow. Hey, how's the job going? You haven't talked about it much for someone who's always working."

"Oh, yeah, it's great. I told you, I just got back from Lebanon, and on Saturday, I'll be flying to Paris. It's just been one assignment after the other all around the world, and it's great."

"Isn't that what you were doing for The Times?"

"Not as frequently," I argue.

"Still, basically the same."

"But with a pay raise and a lower cost of living."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm not trying to attack your life choices here, Four. Just trying to figure some stuff out. And, you know, catch up with an old friend."

I get up from my seat in pursuit of another beer in the fridge. "Consider us caught up."

Tris also arrives before Zeke's clan does, the day after I do. She greets me with a warm hug and a friendly smile, and I can tell she's in a much happier place than she was when she visited last year. I carry her suitcase inside for her, and she enthusiastically thanks Uriah and Hana for having her. Hana and I watch amusedly as Uriah throws her over his shoulder, and she kicks him in the back, which spurs the two of them into some sort of sibling-like spar.

When the two of them calm down, Tris asks Hana, "Have you seen the latest picture Shauna uploaded of Arabella?"

"No, I haven't! Do you have it?"

"Yes, it's so cute! They're getting all packed for the trip, and it's their first time travelling with a baby, so they've practically packed their whole apartment, and they've got her all bundled up. I swear, she's wearing three hats in the photo."

Tris pulls the photo up on her phone and passes it to Hana. Uriah tries to grab the phone so he can see the picture too, but Hana smacks his hand away. "Oh, look at my granddaughter," she coos, and I smile. There's no prouder grandmother than Hana Pedrad.

I patiently wait for Hana to give up the phone so I can see the picture, and I'm struck by how much bigger she is compared to the last picture I've seen from a few months ago. Once again, I feel terrible for how long I've put off this visit. I wasn't even there when Arabella was born. This will be my first time seeing her in person. The consequences of my actions are surreal right now, standing in the Pedrads' kitchen, holding Tris's phone in my hand.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Tris teases.

"Nah, you don't want to hear about those."

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

I hand her cell phone back to her and take a second to really look at her. Her eyes are bright, and she's wearing her hair down. She's grown it out since I last saw her, and there's a playfulness in her now that contrasts the grave, uncertain woman who visited me last year.

"I'm much more interested in hearing about you," I tell her.

She shrugs. "Um, okay, well I'm taking classes online like you did, but mine are for psychology, which is really interesting. And I work at a daycare center, and I'm in charge of writing catchy, educational songs for the little kids every week," she says, barely able to contain her smile. "I really like it."

"That's great," I admit sincerely. "I'm really happy you're enjoying it."

"Thanks. Maybe in a little while we can talk some more about it. Oh, and I'd love to hear how you're doing. We haven't caught up in forever," she complains.

"We called each other a month ago," I remind her. "Remember, we talked for three hours."

She had called me while I was suffering from a six-hour layover in Buenos Aires, but while we were talking, I couldn't believe how quickly the time escaped me. I'm sure I managed to piss off quite a few people waiting for the same flight, but it felt amazing reconnecting with Tris. Even before we were dating, we always got along well.

"That was two months ago!" she corrects light-heartedly.

"You're rounding up."

"Well, you're rounding down to make yourself look better. To make it look like you haven't been ignoring us with all the work you're doing." Even though she's mainly joking, it still feels like a blow to the gut.

In all seriousness, I agree with her. "Yeah, it would be nice to just sit down and talk. I've missed you, too."

She grins. "I never said I missed you."

"It was certainly implied."

"You want to go roller skating tonight?" she asks out of the blue.

"Roller skating?"

"Yeah. I haven't been in a while, and I love roller skating."

"Aren't you jetlagged?"

"Don't try to make me rethink this. You just don't want to go."

"Come on, Tris, roller skating?"

"It's our vacation!"

"Exactly!"

She rolls her eyes. "Come on, we should. Just you and me. You said it would be a good idea to catch up. This is the way to do it."

Of course, I have to meet her eyes. Those damn eyes are always so expressive. I cave in under a minute, much to her delight. We feel sorry for leaving Hana and Uriah, but Uriah schedules a last-minute date with his girlfriend, and Hana insists that she needs to get some housework done before Zeke's family arrives tomorrow. Both of them practically usher us out of the house. Hana even loans us her car.

"I'm really glad you could make it for Thanksgiving this year," Tris says in the car. "Do you think you'll come for Christmas, too?"

"Maybe."

She rolls her eyes. "You're not usually the noncommittal type."

"Are you sure about that?" I joke, and she laughs.

"Yeah, nevermind. You are kind of wishy-washy."

"You're right there with me, Prior."

"I know."

That night it's like we're dating again. The energy between us is the same, but we're more sensitive about touch. We're not holding onto each other like we used to, but there are some of the looks we used to give each other that I grew so familiar with. I wonder if people around us think we're a couple.

We arrive at the skating rink just when the lights are dimmed for nighttime, and Tris doesn't want to have anything to eat first. She wants to go straight to skating, which is really amusing to me since she isn't exactly the best skater. I guess she just has a craving for it right now. The music is blasting in my ears, and I remember how this used to be like a club when Zeke and I were preteens. All the hottest kids in middle school spent their weekends here.

At one point, a boy of about twelve-years-old accidentally bumps into Tris, forcing her to lose her balance and sending her plowing into me. She grips my forearm, and I have to hold onto the rail to keep us both from falling over. I look down at her to ask her if she's all right, but the question lodges itself in the back of my throat when I see the intensity of her gaze.

"You know, my crush on you started here," she says.

"No, I didn't know that."

"We had that group date, and you came early, and I felt like we just had an instant spark. I didn't think you could ever think of me like that because I was sixteen, and you were moving away, and I kept telling myself it was just a stupid crush. But that didn't stop how I felt every time you paid even a little attention to me."

She's standing on her own now, but I still find myself gripping onto the railing to keep my balance. I think back to the night that she visited me over a year ago, when I confessed that I still had feelings for her, and she told me that she wasn't ready. I wonder if this is her way of starting to tell me that she's ready now. She seems to be in a good place right now, and I finally realize that my feelings for her will always be strong.

And because I'm terrible with words and because there are so many thoughts racing through my head that I want to silence, I lean forward and press my lips to hers in the easiest way to express my feelings.

She kisses me back for a second, but then she turns her head away and abruptly ends it. Suddenly I fear that I've misread her.

"Maybe we should sit down," she suggests.

I follow her off the rink and towards the arcade. "This is where you shoot me down, isn't it?" I ask, and I cringe when I hear the bitterness in my tone, but I can't bring myself to apologize for it.

She doesn't say anything, and I continue. "Everything seems great between us, Tris. I don't understand what the problem is this time."

"The problem is that nothing's changed! It's like we're in the exact same place we were when we broke up. You're happy in Washington, and I'm happy in New York, and neither one of us should have to compromise that."

"So we're back to our old-age argument that our lives are too big to accommodate two?"

"Looks that way."

"But I thought we could give this a chance again. That's basically what you said when you came to D.C."

"I know, but Tobias, maybe we waited too long. I don't think you and me are ever going to find the right time again." She says this with finality, and I'm so tired of fighting with her about this same issue.

"I'll compromise," I say.

She's surprised, likely by my bluntness, and subsequently exclaims, "You know I don't want you to give up your happiness for me!"

"I wouldn't be! Tris, you and I are made for each other! Tell me that you don't pull out memories from when we were dating and go over them in your head because that's what I do. We were happy, and yes, we were younger and inexperienced and ambitious, but I like to think we've learned from our mistakes. At least I have."

"Tobias-'' she starts to interject, but I will not lose this chance now.

"And yes, this past year and a half or so of being with National Geographic has been great, and I love it, but Uriah brought something up last night that I haven't been able to get out of my head. What I'm doing in D.C. is almost the same thing as what I was doing in New York. And New York has my best friends, and New York has you, and maybe I stayed away so long because I knew that if I came back and saw everyone, I'd be reminded of what I left behind. And maybe I worked so hard and took every assignment that I could so I wouldn't have time to think about how happy I could have been if I stayed in New York.

"And Tris, I don't want you to think that I would be giving up my career for you. Because trust me, I can be selfish. You've seen me be selfish. If I left National Geographic, it would be for me because in all my life, nothing makes me happier than you do. And if something as simple as a job is keeping me from being as happy as I can be, I will cut it out. I deserve to be happy, and so do you. And I honestly believe that we deserve to give this another shot."

There are tears in her eyes that likely match the tears in mine. I grip her hands, and my eyes plead for her to listen to me, to let me through that wall of stubbornness she maintains so carefully.

She's caught between a laugh and a cry when she says, "You make a very compelling argument."

"Did it work?" I ask, less desperately than my speech a minute ago.

She stares into my eyes and then down at our intertwined hands before nodding weakly at first. "Yeah, it worked."

She kisses me fiercely this time, but then she must remember we're in a public setting, so she finishes with a chaste peck.

I let her know that I have one last assignment to do after Thanksgiving before I'll tell Johanna about my plans, and she asks me again if this is what I want to do. I know now that any lack of conviction from her in the past did not come from a disinterest in me or our relationship, but from a fear that she wouldn't be enough for me. It's incredible knowing that I've finally convinced her that she is more than enough, and I'll dedicate my life to reminding her.

It's not in Zeke's nature to hold a grudge. Shauna's a little better at it than he is, but both forgive me when I apologize profusely and rave about their daughter, although I'm a little apprehensive about holding her.

Tris isn't. She picks Arabella up out of her car seat and walks all around the house with the baby in her arms. When Tris starts to bounce her up and down, I'm worried that she's going to drop her, but no one else seems to share my paranoia.

Zeke and I sit out on the porch that night.

"So how's the job?" he asks.

I shrug. "I'm going to give Amar a call," I say.

"Why?"

"See if I can get my old job back."

Zeke processes what I'm saying, and his face breaks out into a grin. "If you're not being serious right now, I'm going to kill you."

"No, I'm being serious."

"Oh, my God! That's great! Do you need a place to stay? You can stay on our couch, you know. Seriously."

I laugh. "Thanks for the offer, but I know a certain friend who's already agreed to take me in."

"Please tell me she's blonde."

"She is."

"This is great. Now I get my best friend back, and he doubles as a babysitter."

"Not really great with babies."

"You will be with my baby. That's your co-goddaughter with Uriah."

"I'm sure I'll figure something out. Tris seems good with her. Maybe she'll help me."

Zeke clinks his beer against mine. "I'm sure she will."

I call Johanna in the morning to let her know I don't plan to stay on with National Geographic once I complete my assignment in Paris.

"I'm disappointed that you'll be leaving, and I'm going to miss you, but I know you have great things awaiting you in New York," she says.

"Thank you, Johanna."

"And I saw some of the pictures you uploaded from your Thanksgiving holiday. I imagined this might be coming when I saw the pictures of you and your girlfriend. You two look so cute together. I don't imagine you want to be separated from her."

"Nope."

She sighs happily and muses aloud, "After all, a picture's worth a thousand words."

"Yes, it is," I agree wholeheartedly.

Epilogue

50 years later

Their little townhouse isn't far from the city. It was a good distance for both of their jobs and a good size to raise a family. 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms with a basement for a studio and a backyard that the children spent hours rolling around in.

They have a nice little fireplace inside of the house that the family would sit in front of and thaw out from snowball fights in the bitter winter. The living room was a good size with enough couches to accommodate their family and Zeke's family when they often came over for visits. With the grandchildren now, it can get a little crowded.

And oftentimes, sitting in the living room, they looked over to the staircase that connected both stories of the house, for decorating that wall were carefully selected pictures, which told the story of their family and their family only.

A picture of Tris Prior and Tobias Eaton at a baseball game.

A picture of Tris and Tobias Eaton on their wedding day.

Tobias Eaton at a little league game with life-long friend Zeke Pedrad.

Tobias Eaton's front-page photograph from The New York Times.

Tris and her mother in stage make-up when Tris was eight years old.

Tris and her daughter in stage make-up when she was eight years old.

Tris, Tobias, their son, and their daughter in Chicago for Christmas.

Tobias giving their daughter away on her wedding day.

Tris straightening her son's tie on his wedding day.

Tris and Tobias holding their twin grandsons.

The kiss Tobias and Tris share on their 50th wedding anniversary.

No one is immune to the pull of pictures on the wall. They call the attention of everyone; they share pieces of a story. After all, a picture's worth a thousand words.

I can't believe this story is actually finished. Some days I thought I'd never be able to complete it, but a lot of it is thanks to your encouraging messages and your favorites and views, and I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it! Thank you so much for reading not only this story, but my other works in progress as well! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! Happy Holidays!