Chapter 3: It Ends at the Beginning
And You Say I Never Get You Flowers
Previously in Chapter 2: You Have an Owl
Friday morning, I sprung quietly out of bed, careful not to wake Nicole.
I left home with only the clothes on my back and the fourteen suitcases Nicole required for the next three days. A sprightly jaunt later, I had procured the finest compact automobile money could rent. The solo errand afforded me an opportunity to stash a bevy of props in the spare tire well beneath the trunk floor of the car. E.P. hadn’t just sent the first box; there was an entire “time release” kit I was responsible for planting during the weekend.
The plan was to meet Nicole at the first set of coordinates: 40.738375, -74.011142.
I rolled into the parking garage near the rendezvous and met up with the befuddled Task Rabbit that I had hired for the next 2 hours. I can’t imagine what tasker Tiffany B. thought when she got the request to make several “drops” at various children’s playgrounds. After clarifying the non felonious instructions, I parted ways with Tiffany B. at the entrance to Pier 51, a park at the water's edge on the west side of Manhattan.
The park was comprised of a small playground buttressed by a lookout deck along the Hudson River shaped exactly like the bow of a ship. Nicole was waiting for me there with the first horcrux in her hand and the quiver on her back.
The spoon was unassuming, but insidious. It represented the “legacy” of the homes we grew up in and the good-natured support of family.
As a kid, I would often wonder when it would be my time to hold the family center. Too young until I wasn’t, the answer was waiting for me on a faux boat deck along the West Side Highway. If Nicole and I were going to start our family, we would need to do it without any reliance on the parents who f%#*ed us into existence.
Directly across from where we were standing was the neighborhood of Hoboken, where we had just purchased our first home together. I channeled my inner darth-ness and whispered, “Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.”
Nicole took a breath, looked to the water, and threw the spoon back into the sea from whence it came.
Suddenly — and terrifyingly — Tiffany B. popped out of nowhere. She held a tall white lily, its flowers still closed, which she handed to Nicole. Without a word, Tiffany B. rabbit’ed off.
I reminded Nicole of E.P.’s letter: the destruction of each horcrux would leave behind a remnant we were to collect. I took the flower and gently placed it into the quiver on Nicole’s back.
Our next set of coordinates was only ten blocks north. As we ventured towards the next location, we just happened to come across the High Line, a raised footpath three stories above the street that traced 10th Avenue. Nicole and I had wandered this path seven years earlier on our first date.
A mile later we arrived at Clement Clarke Moore park, one of several playgrounds in the area. Inside the gates, in between a swing set and a group of trees, we found two concrete seals.
“How did you remember where this was?” Nicole exclaimed.
“It’s not me,” I replied. “It’s magic.”
Seven years prior, wandering down from the High Line, this was where we shared our first kiss. It was here now — in the present — that we had to destroy the Prism of Fate.
I walked between the seals and stepped on a blue switch on the ground. We heard a gurgling sound and then water fountained from the mouths of the statues, raising the stakes immeasurably.
To destroy this horcrux, she’d have to “seal her fate” and “take her eyes from the horizon.” She’d have to give up searching for an ethereal sense of fulfillment and look at what she already had. It’s easy to find joy in dreaming. It’s hard to squeeze it from the real world, but that’s all I could offer her. To destroy the Prism — and work with me here — she needed to adorn the seal with the binoculars.
With an eye roll, she laid them down.
Woosh! Tiffany B. swooped in with a giant yellow sunflower, the remnant of the second horcrux. I spun Nicole around and added the flower to her quiver as Tiffany B. hopped away.
We plugged in the third set of coordinates. We were heading upstate. Back at the parking garage car, I almost let slip the 7th clue. I was humming a song — rehearsing even — and Nicole began to sing along. In retrospect, there was no way for her to guess what was coming.
Next in Chapter 4: Incendio