Frank's parents knew little about Juliet beyond that she was polite to them, her parents were amicable and had started inviting them to mahjong after prom, and that Frank refused to tell them anything else. It came as a surprise at graduation that Frank and Juliet were more than erstwhile dance partners; in fact, they seemed to be good friends. And when Frank told them that he and this mysterious girl had brunch plans the following day, and that he'd like a ride, they suspected there was something more to his eager temperament, which manifested itself in Frank throwing open his dressers and pulling out heaps of outfits in a stormy panic as soon as they got home from dinner, something he had never done when at school.

What did they know about her anyway? Juliet's parents were always happy to tell them nice things about their son that she had relayed to them, which was comforting in its own way, but little they told him could answer the mystery of why Frank was in such a manic mood. It wasn't the excitement of graduation—he would never be this pleased about something so normal. What Juliet's grandmother had told them (in a wild chain of coincidences, they shared a language in common: she had learned Russian from some friends in Hong Kong ages ago, and Frank's father had self-studied Russian to better appreciate Dostoevsky) was that Frank had taught Juliet everything she knew about philosophy, happiness, and morality.

"And how did you hear about this?" Frank's father asked.

"Frank told me, of course!"

"And how did he tell you this? Does he also speak Russian?"

"No, he learned Cantonese to impress Juliet!"

At once, everything became clear: Frank was going on his first date.

They had the option, certainly, of giving Frank some parental wisdom about taking it slow, or taking it fast if the situation demanded; of complimenting her appearance without being creepy; of being charming while still being authentic, but Frank seemed like the sort of kid who valued his privacy and could manage this sort of thing himself, so instead they drove him in silence and dropped him off with a back-pat.

Frank wasn't sure if he was supposed to go inside and find Juliet, wait outside by the fountain, or abandon ship and run away. The fountain had more pennies than he remembered, most of them rusted beyond recognition. Every one of them was a wish, and who knows how many had come true? Maybe one of them was Juliet's, her wishing to find a knight in shining armor or maybe just pass a math test. Frank was never one to believe in wishes, but he had a coin to spare, and so he tossed it in. Long ago, he had watched Groundhog Day, and while it could not replace Casablanca, there were some situations where it just seemed more appropriate.

"I don't know what today will bring, but I wish to repeat this day forever and ever. Just like Phil Connors. A wish, or any desire, can do a lot, but even they can't break the rules of time; let's see what this has to bring," Frank wistfully declared, and he tossed the penny in. Just then, Juliet came running out of the restaurant and enveloped Frank in a smothering hug before he could complain. Why was he supposed to complain, actually? Hugs were good.

Juliet had reserved them a table tucked away in a corner in the back of the restaurant, as far away from the entrance and prying eyes as they could be. As soon as they sat down, someone came by with a towering cart of har gow, and Frank tore through a silken wrapper as Juliet started her questioning:

"Can you believe it's taken us four years to get here? There are so many things I want to say. To start, you're cute—not as cute as I am, but still cute—and you have this way of always saying funny things that I wish I could say to you in return. We have plenty of time to tell each other nice things, but I wanted to talk about the future, you know. What we make today."

"What sort of future?"

"I don't know, anything. The future of the club is important, but I'm not in the mood to think about that now, and I trust that someday you or Pranav will give me instructions and I'll do whatever you say. I always do whatever you say, you know that. Isn't that funny? But us. As a couple, not just a couple of good friends. What do you think? Good idea?"

"What about long-distance? We have this summer, but what do we do after that? Video calls? Phone calls? Flying cross-country over weekends?"

"Have some siu mai—I don't mean that. Anything, anything we want Frank. That's what freedom is. We can talk as much or as little as we like. We could agree now, this very instant, to never see each other after this brunch. And we'd go off our own ways, meeting new people, for however many years. Then some day, you'll be throwing a party with a guest list that could fill a book, and I'll be there without knowing you're the one in the office looking down at us from the balcony, and I'll ask the pianist to play a song that reminds me of my past, a special memory I have of the only senior prom I'll ever have. And then you'll run down, since you know exactly what that song means, and we'll embrace again. It will be romantic, but you know, we can have that without the intervening gap of time."

"You don't understand, Juliet. There's no thought behind this. You're going to meet new people in UCLA, all with their own worldviews and habits who know nothing about being a good person or why you spend all night wistfully staring east. There might be—will be—someone you find cuter, more charming, more graceful at the tango, and you can't sacrifice him for an ideal trapped in your phone screen. That's no way to live."

"A relationship doesn't need hugs or kisses to be real. When we inevitably rewatch Casablanca, and are trapped in the moment, you won't be thinking that I'm not at your side. You'll see me smiling in the corner of your screen and be happier that I'm there than to be watching the movie. You'll have spent the entire day with a spring in your step; you'll have put on cologne, even though you know I won't be able to smell it. A friend will ask you "Hey, free for dinner tonight?," and you'd say no: you have a date. That's what a relationship is. There's no bell schedule or ritual involved. Only the two of us, forevermore."

"We should get some egg tarts. But no, you're right. Is that not how the song goes? No matter what the future holds? The thing is, I'm restless. I'm a wanderer. There's always something bigger and greater that looms on the horizon for me, and that's not a journey that always has room for two. I've taken you along with me so far because, well, it was convenient. You know I didn't want to at first. There was a time where I'd have rather chucked myself off a cliff than be told that I could see you every day, that someday I'd put on cologne and comb my hair just to look presentable on a phone screen. But, things change. They always do. I'm restless; I like it when things change. And that changed. I don't know if I can commit to that sort of future. It might not be the sort where we spend every day doing things like this. It means we'll spend some days eating a quick breakfast before each going to work and not seeing each other until dinner, where we talk little because we have nothing new to say, because life is boring like that. Sometimes the most exciting thing that will happen in a day is seeing a stray cat. And, well, that means we'll have nothing to talk to each other about besides that stray cat. Or when our credit card bill is due. Boring things like that."

"My parents have always told me if one is ever bored, the problem is on their end. Let's wander. If you can bounce high, I can bounce higher. If you can wear a gold hat, I can wear one too. Higher and higher, golder and golder, faster and faster we can go! Let's rent a sailboat, Frank. Let's go on a road trip down the coast to Malibu, where all the celebrities go. Anywhere, anytime that we feel like. No matter what the future holds as time goes by."

"Fine then, it's as simple as that. Let's repeat this day. Forever and ever, everywhere and everything. I hope every day has this sense of possibility in it, that catalyst for young love. Even when we're old, and our idea of a perfect day is sitting on the couch apart from each other and reading books. We will still have that knowledge within us, that we could go anywhere and do anything, if we wanted. We could even watch Casablanca again! And, when there is only one of us left—no, it's too early to think about death! But saying "forever" is only a promise to our immature selves: inside all of us, there's that little kid who keeps running after that ice cream truck and who has no idea what it would feel like if he ran for days on end, all because he thinks a popsicle is waiting for him and that there is nothing on the planet that could match it. Forever doesn't mean eternity. Eternity means when the Earth, with our ashes in urns somewhere, is sucked into the swollen Sun, when our atoms are converted into what's effectively a cosmic belch. That's eternity. Forever, well, is when the magic becomes mundane. When we wake up ten thousand times to the same alarm in the same bed. Do you want forever?"

"Yes, Frank, I do. Let's have forever."

"The deed is done."

They spent the rest of brunch talking of lighter things, gossiping about their classmates or playing two truths and a lie, and they concluded brunch with a kiss. Frank had told his parents there was no need to come pick them up: they were going to go for a walk in the park and watch the ducks. He could still see his penny in the fountain: it was the only one not rusted. It shimmered in the sunlight through the fountain's rough surface like a desert mirage, one that would torment travelers searching for water as it vanished further into the horizon, the green palm trees a light that would fade away into dream. More present in the moment was Juliet tugging Frank away, and like that, the penny was out of view, even though it would remain forever. Not an eternity, at least. Just forever.

Discussion Questions:

This isn't the first time we've seen the Groundhog Day idea appear either, and we aren't done with any of these motifs. What, if anything, connects Frank and Bill?

Do you think Juliet made a convincing case for "forever"?

What do you think the penny represents? Why do we spend so much time on it and the fountain?