CHAPTER NINETEEN – Byron
He couldn’t understand it. He and Daphne had agreed that they would meet at the Falls – their spot – as soon as he got off work on Friday, but when he called (having gotten the promotion), she said she couldn’t make it because she had to go to work. Byron almost said, “Daff, we’re getting married, you can skip work,” but he knew how conscientious she was. And besides, he needed a shower.
He went home and called at 6:02 exactly. Daphne was on her way out the door. Could he call back later? Byron didn’t know what was going on, but he knew something was up. Her voice sounded strange, like she might be about to cry. He hurried over to her house, and sure enough she was there.
At first he thought that she had been the victim of a shower prank that had turned her hair white. But then she spoke and he realized the truth.
“Byron, I can’t marry you. I’ve become an old woman, and I know that you need children to continue your father’s program. I love you, I’ll always love you, but I can’t marry you.”
“Blast the program,” he said, taking her into his arms. “It’s you I want, and if it means an end to the program, then so be it.
“Besides,” he added a few minutes later. “I’ve been working on something in the lab that will make it possible for you to have children. It’s a formula my grandmother developed, and I’ve been working on it a long time.” He told her about the explosions, about the near-misses – the Bladder Flow potion, the Liquid Horror potion, the Ghost potion.
Daphne quieted him with a kiss. “We’ll work on that tomorrow,” she said. “Right now there’s something we haven’t done yet that I’ve been waiting my entire adulthood for.”
As they fell asleep, Byron murmured, “Even if the formula doesn’t work, I don’t regret a thing.”
The next morning, Daphne went to work on the garden, while Byron set up a new lab on the upstairs porch. He was so close, but he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was experience another explosion and lose the work of years. Dimly he was aware of Daphne moving around the house, using the bathroom, making lunch – no, supper.
Just as he finished the potion, he heard a shriek from the kitchen. “What is it?” he exclaimed, running downstairs.
“Not to worry,” said Daphne. “It’s just the sink overflowing again.”
Byron handed her the beaker. “You drink this. I’ll take care of the sink.”
“What if –“ Daphne began, but Byron was engrossed with a wrench and the faucet. She looked at the pink liquid, slightly bubbling. It could be anything. She almost said, “Why don’t you try it first?” but that implied a lack of trust. Byron wouldn’t intentionally harm her, and it was the intention that mattered, after all. She drank. It tasted like peach juice.
All at once, she felt more energetic, like stars were exploding out of her. Would she end up singed like Byron had?
No, she was back to her old self, her normal self, the youthful self she still expected to see when she looked in the mirror. Byron finished repairing the sink, and the two of them started tickling each other, acting like a couple of teenagers.
And pretty soon they found out that yes, she could have children.
