Eighteen Candles

He put his hand on her chin, and when he lifted her face up toward him he knew there was no mistake. They ached with sadness, but he would have known those pale green eyes anywhere.

Craig knew last night hadn't been a dream. She couldn't have drugged the wine. He didn't believe in hypnosis. But there was no denying that the fiftyish woman in front of him was the same eighteen-year-old girl he'd known the night before. "Beth...how?"

She lowered her head, still unwilling to meet his gaze. "Even if I told you the truth, you'd never believe me. Last night was a mistake. Forget it ever happened. Forget about Beth."

He shook his head, refusing to believe what he was hearing. And as his frustration turned to anger he said it again, louder this time. "How?!"

She hesitated a moment, and then went to shut the front door. When she came back she reached down to the bottom of the bookcase and pulled out the old photo album Beth had hid there the night before.

She took it to the table and set it down beside the cake, with one piece missing and a burned out candle beside it.

She sighed as she flipped the book open. And when she found the page she was looking for she turned to Craig. "You want Beth? Here she is."

He walked toward her, and his eyes went wide with amazement when he saw what she was pointing at.

Inside there was an old Polaroid picture, the kind with the thick white bottom. The photo was slightly overexposed but there was no mistaking the young girl in the photo, dressed in a hat and gown and beaming beneath a banner that read Grad Class of '82. Her name echoed through his thoughts. Beth.

As Craig stared in disbelief, she tapped it with a painted fingernail. "That's my mom beside me."

He stared closer at the photo, wondering if it was some kind of trick, wondering if the photo had been doctored.

While he examined it she stood and went back to the bookcase, returning with an old high school annual that she flipped open. She tapped a black and white photo and Craig saw her again, the same bright smile, the same sparkle in her eyes. The name beneath read Beth Ledgerwood.

He slumped into a chair, too stunned to stand. For a third time, almost pleading with her, he asked, "How?"

She gave him a half-hearted smile. "It was the candle."

He lifted the tiny pink wax stub and stared at it in disbelief. She hadn't been watching the clock; she'd been watching the candle.

And as he turned it back and forth, checking it out from every angle, she went to a drawer and pulled out a small, blue and white box.

She dropped it on the table in front of him. The vintage cardboard box said Fairy Birthday Candles and it was printed with an image of a fairy on the cover, touching her wand to the candles on a birthday cake as if granting a wish.

"My mom bought those when I was twelve-years-old," she said.

He stared at the empty box and the burned out stub, still not understanding.

"I know after what happened last night I owe you an explanation, and to do that I have to start at the beginning," she said. "But before I do I just wanted to say...I'm sorry, for everything. I had too much wine and I...I'm just sorry."

She took a deep breath. "Anyway, last night when Beth -- I mean, when I knocked on your door -- it really was my birthday, February twenty-ninth."

Craig blinked in surprise. He'd thought the day before had been the twenty-eighth; he'd forgotten it was a leap year.

She continued: "I was born forty-eight years ago but last night was only my twelfth birthday, my twelfth real birthday. It's one of the quirks of being a leapling --that's what we're called, people born on a leap day -- you only get to celebrate your real birthday once every four years.

"I never knew my dad. He died when I was just a baby so my mom was the only family I ever had. And every year she threw me the best birthday parties.

"But when I was nine I realized the day my mom was holding my party on wasn't my actual birthday. She tried to explain but I guess I was too young to understand. I just remember how pissed I was that everyone else got to celebrate on their birthday once a year and I had to wait four years for mine.

"My mom knew how I felt, so when I was twelve she decided to do something special. She found these candles in an antique store and told me they were magic. Of course, I knew she was kidding, but she said we'd light one every four years to celebrate my real birthday. And she promised me on that day she'd do whatever it took to make my birthday wish come true.

"I just wish I'd known then that the only thing I'd ever want was more time with her." She stared at the faded Polaroid as tears welled in her eyes. "It was just a few months after this photo was taken that they found the cancer.

"And when they told us it was inoperable, told her how long she had left, I tried to be strong for her. But I got home, found her wine and I just remember drinking it and thinking life was so fucking unfair. I was mad, frustrated, drunk...I hit the window and did this."

She pulled up her sleeve and showed him the crescent-shaped scar. "It was pretty bad. I barely remember them rushing me to the hospital. I just remember feeling terrible that everyone was so worried about me when she was the one that was going to die. Like no one knew the pain she was going through.

"I remember going to see her, just before the end. That was when she gave me this." She picked up the empty box and turned it back and forth, lost in memory. "There were only eight candles left by that time, and she made me promise to keep lighting them whenever my real birthday came around, made me promise I'd make a wish.

"And I told her I didn't want to, because the only thing I wanted in the whole world was for her to be there with me. She promised she would be. She said I'd find someone else, somebody who'd love me just as much as she did, but she promised that until that day came she'd always be there.

"When she died I felt like part of me died with her. I didn't want to be called Beth anymore. I figured that was a girl's name and it was time to grow up, so I started calling myself Liz.

"But I didn't grow up. I was a wreck. I was so fucked up. The next two years were a blur. I cut my hair short, dyed it black, and had one of those little tails in the back. But I didn't forget my birthday, my real birthday, and I didn't forget my promise.

"I remember I was living in this rented house with four roommates and I went up to my room. They didn't even know it was my birthday, but I still had the candles. There were a lot of things I lost back then but I never let go of those candles.

"Anyway, like I said, no one knew it was my birthday, but I had this Twinkie. And I stuck a candle in the stupid Twinkie and as soon as I lit it all I could think about was my mom. I just remember lying there in my room, crying, missing her as I watched that candle burn down.

"I was so fucked up, so sad and so lonely. And I remember wishing...just wishing I could feel like I'd felt before, back when I was happy, back when she was still alive.

"I blew out the candle, but then it lit up again. And instantly, I knew something was different.

"There was this stabbing pain in my arm, and it wasn't until I lifted my sleeve that I realized it was coming from my old scar, which had completely healed by that time. But now it was pink and raw again, just like you saw it last night, just like it had been right after I hurt it.

"And then I looked in the mirror and saw my hair wasn't just long again, it was back to its original color. It had been so long since I'd seen it I almost didn't recognize it. And that was when I realized my wish had come true. I was eighteen again.

"I remember running out of my room so I could show my roommates. But as soon as I was out in the hallway the pain in my arm disappeared and my hair was short and black again. I went back in my room and realized the candle had gone out.

"I was sure I'd imagined the whole thing, I was pretty drunk when it happened, but it still changed me. I cleaned up my act, went back to school. But on the day I turned twenty-four I was back in my room, alone with my candles. And as soon as I lit one I was eighteen again.

"The candles were magic, just like my mom had said. Every leap year on my birthday, as long as I lit a candle and stayed in sight of it, I turned eighteen again. And I stayed that way until the candle burned out or my birthday was over -- midnight.

"I had a lot of fun on those birthdays, but I never did anything like last night. I guess it was just the wine and...knowing it was my last candle. But from the moment I lit it, I knew there was only one thing I wanted for my last birthday wish."

As her gaze drifted toward him, Craig let the burned out candle fall from his hand. He felt numb. Last night now seemed like a dream, and the thought that the girl he'd spent it with was right in front of him, but now thirty years older, seemed impossible to comprehend. He saw her watching him, waiting for him to say something, but all he could say was, "Beth..."

"Beth's gone. I'm Liz now, I accept that. And I -- I just wanted to say sorry for last night, sorry if you feel like I deceived you. But after sitting home alone on Valentine's Day, I knew it was my last chance. I knew you were my last chance."

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. "You have no idea how long it took me to work up the nerve to knock on your door. One bottle of wine definitely wasn't enough. Even after you answered I still wasn't sure I could actually go through with it. But when you handed me that box of Valentine's Day candy...it just felt like all the pieces were falling into place.

"And the funny thing is, when I knocked on your door I was so afraid that you might recognize me or notice that the names Liz and Beth were both short for Elizabeth. But then I realized you didn't even know my name. I live right across the hall from you, and you didn't even know my name."

Craig tried to speak, but she held her hand up and stopped him.

"You don't know how many times I've passed you in the hall, hoping you might smile or even say hi. And when you never did, I just accepted it. I've known for a long time men's heads don't turn for me like they used to.

"But when you opened the door last night and I saw the look in your eyes when you saw Beth standing there...I'm not going to lie, I loved it. I loved that look that said someone actually wanted me. And I wish I could have made it last forever, but it never does."

She picked up the burned out stub of the candle and twisted it back and forth, staring at it. "You have no idea what it feels like, Craig, to know you'll never be young again."

"Beth, you're not -- "

"You know I am," she said, as she fixed him with a bitter smile. "You told me the rule: half your age plus seven. I'm too old for you."

She closed the photo album. "I need to get dressed. You should go now."

He staggered toward the door, still stunned by her story, unsure what to believe, unsure what to say. But when he reached the doorway he stopped and turned back toward her. "Beth..."

She shook her head. "I already told you, Craig, it's Liz. Beth's gone." And then she closed the door.

* * *

Craig clicked a card and the red jack slid onto the black queen. And then he clicked another card and watched it slide into place on another. And then another. And then another. Over and over.

He was playing solitaire, his finger hovering over the mouse as he pondered his next move. And then an icon in the corner of the screen blinked.

His sister was trying to open another video chat but he ignored it as he'd ignored all her other attempts. He knew she'd know something had happened; she always knew. But how could he explain it to her? How could he explain it to anyone?

He felt hollow. More than a week had passed since Beth...since Liz. Eight long days, and he was still struggling to believe it had really happened.

His dreams were filled with images of that night, dancing with her, together on the couch. Sometimes the images became mixed-up; sometimes she was younger than him and sometimes she was older. But every dream ended the same way, with an eighteen-year-old girl with pale green eyes standing in the doorway, closing the door as she whispered, Beth's gone.

He shook his head; even when he was awake her words echoed inside it.

He heard her door open and he jumped to his feet, tiptoeing toward the window and peeking out from behind the curtain as she headed out of the apartment building and walked toward her car. Her hair was tied back and the sunlight caught the silver in it, and as she glanced up at his window he ducked out of sight.

But as she drove away Craig watched, like he had every morning since he'd learned her story.

He went back to the computer and put his hand on his mouse. The game was waiting for his next move. His sister's icon flashed away, begging him to talk to her.

And as his finger hovered above the button he realized he was sick of playing the game, sick of rules. Frustrated, he shoved the mouse away and it skidded off the tabletop and fell to the floor.

He bent to pick it up and that was when he noticed it. He thought they were all gone but this last one had fallen beneath the table and remained there, hidden from sight. He leaned forward and picked it up gently, not wanting to crush it. One last rose petal. One last reminder.

He held it close, inhaling its fragrance; even after all this time it still lingered. The flower was gone but the petal remained and, even though it wasn't as potent as it had once been, still smelled just as sweet.

And as her memory filled his senses once again, he gently laid the fragile petal on the table beside his laptop. He opened a browser window and typed in a search. And when he finally found what he was looking for, he couldn't help smiling.

* * *

Craig had already knocked once. He went to knock a second time, afraid she wouldn't answer, but then he heard a soft click as she unlocked the door. She opened it and peered out at him with those pale green eyes.

"Yes?" she said.

"Hi...umm...Liz, I was just wondering if we could talk. I promise it won't take long."

She crossed her arms. "What do you want to talk about?"

He was just about to answer when he noticed the empty shelves and bare walls behind her, the contents neatly packed in cardboard boxes that were strewn across the couch and floor. "You're moving?"

She gave him a quick nod. "The movers will be here tomorrow."

"But, I...can I just come in for a moment?"

"I really don't think -- "

"Please," he said, stopping her. "It'll just take a minute."

She hesitated a moment before finally letting him in. And as he walked past her she quickly combed her fingers through her hair, trying to fix it.

"I really need to keep packing," she said. "The movers are going to be here first thing. What did you need to tell me?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to give you these."

He'd kept it hidden behind his back but when he held it out to her she instantly recognized the pale white and blue box. It was identical to the one her mother had given her, but this one still contained ten brightly-colored unlit birthday candles.

"Fairy candles," she whispered. "Where did you find them?"

"Uh...Ebay."

She traced the art deco image of the fairy with her finger, lost in memory. And then she shook her head. "They won't work. I know they won't."

She held the candles out toward him. "I know you want Beth back and believe me, so do I, but the magic never came from the candles, it came from my mother. I know in my heart that wish was one last gift from her to me.

"Every time I lit one I felt her presence, like she was there beside me. And when the last one went out I think that's what made it extra painful. Not just knowing I'd never be eighteen again, but knowing she was gone forever, too."

Craig didn't say a word. He simply pulled a box of wooden matches from his pocket and pulled a candle from the box.

"It won't work," she said, twisting the hem of her shirt back and forth as she watched him strike the match.

"I think it might," he said. "Let's just see."

He lit the candle and it burst to life, its bright flame glinting off her glasses. He reached forward, and as he gently took them from her face he smiled. "Beth...it worked."

She gasped and touched her hands to her head, touching her lips, her skin, her hair. And then she spun around, desperate to find a mirror. But when she did the face that stared back at her was the same one she'd woken up with, her pale skin creased with age and her auburn hair streaked with silver.

Her shoulders collapsed and her heart sunk. "It didn't work. Beth's gone."

She turned and he was right behind her, still smiling. He blew out the candle, and said, "Beth, you never left."

He crushed his lips against hers, pulling her close as she melted against him, her hand on his heart.

But then she broke the kiss, dizzy from its intensity, and caught another glimpse of her face in the mirror.

She turned away, shaking her head. "Craig, we can't...it's like you said with your rule. I don't want you feeling sorry for me. I'm forty-eight and you're only twenty-nine, I know I'm too old for you."

He tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her back. "Beth, it doesn't matter if there's twenty feet or twenty years between us, I can't stop thinking about you. And I won't let a rule that someone else wrote come between us."

She smiled weakly. "It's actually only nineteen years, not twenty."

He smiled back. "And on my birthday it will only be eighteen. And when you're fifty-two -- "

"Oh god, don't even say that number," she said, hiding her face in her hands.

"And when you're fifty-two," he continued, "and I'm thirty-three, we won't even have to worry about the stupid rule. But I can't wait four more years, and you shouldn't have to either."

She stared at the box of candles on the table. And then she kissed him, softly at first, unsure. But as he kissed her back she kissed him even harder, sliding her hands around him as he enveloped her with his own.

He slid them down to her waist and she squirmed as she pulled them back up.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she whispered, blushing. "I just need to lose a few pounds."

He smiled, kissing her again as he slid his hands behind her. And he gently squeezed her ass as he pulled her against him.

Her eyes went wide when she felt how stiff he was, and as his hands kept kneading her soft flesh, she whispered, "Is it as nice as you remember?"

"Even nicer," he said, as he brushed her hair back behind her ear and kept kissing her.

She moaned into his mouth, their tongues locked together as she slid her hand between them, feeling how hard he was. "You're sure you don't mind breaking the rule again?"

"What rule?" he said, and swept her off her feet.

She squealed as he carried her to her bedroom and dropped her on the bed. The curtains were shut and the room was cast in the soft shadows of twilight. He reached for the switch and she said, "Don't turn on the light. There are candles on the night stand."

He went to get his matches and when he came back she was already undressed and under the covers.

He arched an eyebrow. "You tricked me."

"I'm shy," she said, gently biting her lower lip. But as he lit the candles and started to undress her eyes sparkled.

Craig slid into bed beside her and when he went to lift the comforter she pulled it back down.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said, "because you've got nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'm not. It's just cold in here."

"Liar," he said, and she giggled as he lightly tickled her.