Authors: Jasmine Rose
Mars (11 page)
28
La vie en rose
“Let’s sit here,” I say, setting the picnic basket on the meadow beside the waterfall. This is Jenna’s idea; she remembered an undiscovered waterfall a few miles away from her house.
The sound the water makes while hitting the rocks brings shivers on my arm. Gratefully, the weather chose to be beautiful today. The sun hits the back of my neck, warming it without forming sweat. A slight blow of wind graces upon us, but it is far from cold.
Logan smiles, “You’re the best.”
The way his hair is tucked into his hat, but the lower tips of his ears are bright red. His cheeks are the color of roses blooming in the spring. His cheekbones show, making his face look softer. His eyes are anticipating and ready to take on the last months of his world.
“Amaryllis,” he says, “I need to be fed.”
I mockingly glare at him, “Are you a hungry monster, wanting to be fed?”
“Duh.”
His hand is shaking. I take off my glove and put it in his hand. Idiot, he is an idiot for forgetting to wear gloves. He says they’re not manly.
My heart is doing somersaults in my chest. I take out the grilled cheese sandwiches from the picnic basket. I pour two cups of fruit juice and hand the lunch to him.
“Thank you,” he says, kissing my cheek.
Lately, he has been taking every possible opportunity to kiss me. Either on the cheek, lips, forehead, arm; everything. He smiles more often, even though I have noticed him getting weaker. He got a seizure last night, which is already twice in a month. It isn’t a good sign.
Logan reaches into his backpack and takes out an empty wine bottle. He unfolds a piece of paper and hands me a pencil.
“We write down something. It will live forever, maybe even end up in an ocean. Who knows? Maybe someone will find it.”
I chuckle, “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I am,” he says with a poker face. “I already wrote what I wanted to.”
I take the paper form him and scribble down:
Giving up is a choice, moving on is another. To whoever who finds this, I hope you’re okay. You’ll be okay. Love, Amaryllis.
Skimming my eyes over what Logan wrote, I smile. He talks about being lost and getting found, and how serendipity is the best way to fall in love. He signs it in the bottom with
L+A
“On three?” he says, holding up the bottle with me. I shove the letter inside it.
“One, two, three!” we simultaneously throw it into the river that flows from the water fall and watch it float away.
No matter what happens, this letter and bottle will be here, sailing on water. L
and an
A
love each other. The day Logan goes, there will be a part of him and one of me, perhaps to be found by someone.
“Thank you,” he says, taking a sip of his juice, “For trying to make the bucket list come true.”
My lack of answer is enough. He ushers for me to come closer and he puts an arm around me. I want to stay like this forever, wondering the possibilities if he isn’t dying. Would we be together?
I stop myself from thinking. I don’t want to think, because that hurts.
“Amaryllis,” he says, in a strained voice.
I pull away. “What’s wrong?”
His face is scrunched up. “I don’t feel—” He is cut off by his own scream. He gets on his knees and clutches his head, breathing heavily. He coughs repeatedly; huge drops of blood escape his body. He loses consciousness right before my eyes.
All I can think is:
please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die, please, please, please.
29
There’s just time
Logan’s mom nods, her features fuzzy from all the crying. She pulls her hair back on her face with her hands, looking at the hospital wall. Dad pats my hand and gets up to talk to her.
I can’t cry.
I want to, but I don’t find the energy to.
Logan isn’t okay.
How can I be okay if he’s not?
“The rest of the family is on their way,” says Dad, closing his phone.
There comes the question I am dreading. “How long?”
“Two days at best,” she says, tears pouring out of her eyes again.
Dad does his best at comforting her and he hugs her. I put my arms around myself and try to take deep breaths to steady myself. Losing myself isn’t an option right now. I have to be okay, for Logan.
Will I ever truly be okay without him?
I don’t think so.
"Amy?" says Jane.
"Yeah?"
"Yesterday was his birthday," she says.
"Oh. Oh my God."
Oh my God. His birthday was yesterday.
The wait is over and Logan’s mom runs to his room, almost frantic. She stays an hour there, I count the minutes. Dad hasn’t let go of my hand; he knows how hard this is.
We sat like this once, when Mom was in the emergency room after the car accident. I held his hand like this, but I was crying and so was he.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want him to die,” I say.
He squeezes my hand and says, “I know. Neither do I. You have to be strong, Amy, okay? For Logan.”
“Yeah,” I say. “For Logan.”
“Amaryllis?” cries out Jane from his room.
I stand up with a jump and walk into the room, with clenched fists. Opening the door, I put my head into it, trying not to look at him. I can’t look at him.
“Come, he wants to talk to you.”
“Is he awake?”
“Half-asleep, half-awake.”
I walk in, feeling a part of me fall apart at the sight of him. Bluish, blotchy patches are on his arms. He looks pale and freezing. I have to resist running toward him. Is it even possible for someone to lose 10lbs overnight?
“Amaryllis,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and opening them slowly. His lids look heavy.
They focus on me and I recognize Logan, my wonderwall. I can see all the memories in his eyes; from the moment he told me I was insecure to throwing the bottle together. He is alive, but barely breathing.
“Logan,” I say, taking his hand and kissing it. "Happy birthday."
He manages a smile, "It was happy."
"You fainted.”
"I was with you, before that." His breathing is uneven, "Thank you."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
There is a silence and I can't care less that his mom is watching all of this.
“I don’t wanna die.”
His voice is raspy and low. He coughs and closes his eyes, leaning his head on the pillows behind his back. He looks at me again.
“But I’m going to die,” he whispers and I don't know if he's still talking to me or to himself.
I don’t know what it was, maybe the tubes in his nose or the blue patch on his left cheek or the way he said that. I start crying. He falls asleep and for a moment, I think he died. The steady rate of his heartbeat proves me wrong. He’s alive, for now.
I cry and cry and I don’t know when the tears will ever stop.
30
Little do you know
“Little do you know, I need a little more time.
Underneath it all I'm held captive by the hole inside.
I'll wait, just wait, I love you like I've never felt the pain.
Just wait, I love you like I've never been afraid.
Just wait, our love is here and here to stay
so lay your head on me,”
~Alex & Sierra~
I haven’t left Logan’s side until his dad, sister and grandparents arrived. I was kindly asked to leave, but I kissed Logan’s forehead before going out. Dad is sleeping in one of the chairs in front of the room, his head dropping on his shoulder. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t gotten any sleep so far.
I take off my coat and put it on Dad. Sitting beside him, I put my head on his other shoulder, closing my eyes. I can’t think straight, my thoughts are as tangled as earphones.
“Boy, you found love!” I hear Logan’s grandma exclaiming loudly. Logan once told me that she is partly deaf, so she shouts instead of speaking normally sometimes. “You found love before dying and that is the biggest accomplishment anyone can do.”
I smile and feel myself drifting off to sleep.
“Amy! Damn it, Amy, wake up! Amy!”
I open my eyes immediately, overtaken by a sense of panic. Ella is staring down at me, her face red from the crying. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, making her look much older than she is.
“Logan, it’s his last moments,” she chokes at the end. She grabs my hand and runs into the room again.
Dad is already inside, sitting a bit further away. Logan’s family is around him. Jane’s body is racked with sobs. His father is looking at his son in a way that makes me think he is proud of him for coming this far and for being his son. Ella is on her knees, clutching at Logan’s arm. His grandparents, Marnie and Jack, are letting silent tears roll down their cheeks.
“Amaryllis,” he says.
My eyes fall upon an empty chair in front of Logan’s bed, so I’d be facing him instead beside him. His mom notices and moves the chair from in front of him to beside him, in front of his face.
“Hi there,” I say.
I close my eyes and open them again. He still looks like himself with those big gray eyes that I have learned to love. The beauty mark on his chin, the forming wrinkles beside his eyes from the smiling. The soft cheeks I used to kiss. The strong jaw line I used to make fun of because he never had facial hair, but that’s okay because I like him the way he is and I love his jaw. His lips are a purplish-blue, but I almost think that he has never ever looked more beautiful.
Not hot or sexy like those photoshopped male models I see in magazines, just beautiful. A simple, innocent beauty that takes your breath away with every word the person says. It is the kind of beauty that makes you stop and wonder just
where
that person has been your whole life.
“You’re beautiful,” I say and he smiles.
“Isn’t that —cough—the first thing I said to you?”
I nod, “Yeah. You told me I was insecure.”
He gives me another smile before looking at his mom.
“Mom? Thank you, for everything. Thank you for being my mom and for loving me no matter what, because I don’t think I would have gotten this far without you. Thank you for raising me to be who I am today. I love you.”
His mom lets out another cry before kissing her son’s hand.
“Dad? You’re the man. You taught me everything I know about life. You’re my role model. Thank you for taking care of me and being there for me no matter what. Thank you for being on my side. I love you. Take care of Mom and Ella, okay?”
His father wipes his cheek and nods fervently. “Of course.”
“Isabella, where are you?”
Ella looks up and makes herself look taller so he can see her. Logan ushers for her to come closer.
“Listen, you’re the best sister ever. You are amazing, you are —cough—beautiful and you are strong. I’m sorry I won’t get to see you graduate or get married or beat up some guy who wants to be your boyfriend, but I’m sure you’ll be —cough—okay. Do you promise you’ll be okay?”
Ella whimpers, “I promise.”
“Good, I love you.”
He looks at his grandparents. “Grandpa, grandma. Thank you for the cookies and the piggyback rides when I was a kid. You are the symbol of true lasting love. Please take care of each other.”
“We love you, kid,” says his grandfather, kissing his cheek.
“I love you too,” says Logan. “Mr. Wolfe?”
Dad looks up and his eyes meet Logan’s. Logan is holding up his hand slightly. Dad walks to him and takes his hand in his.
“You’ve done a good job with her. You are a great man, it was amazing knowing you. I’ll tell your wife how amazing you are to Amaryllis. Thank you for her. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re a good boy,” says Dad, getting teary.
There is a silence upon the realization that it is my turn. Logan takes his free hand and offers it to me. I take it and hold on to it. I feel like everyone else has disappeared and we are the only humans in the world.
“Amaryllis,” he smiles, “I cannot be more thankful to have met you. You made my last days happy. Please, please don’t be sad for too long when I go. You have your life and you have to live it. Promise me you’ll be okay? Promise me you won’t cry for too long?”
I can’t promise that.
“I promise,” I say, my vision getting blurry.
He raises my hand and puts his lips on it. “It was the greatest pleasure to be in love with you, Amaryllis. I’ll always love you.”
I can’t resist it. I reach over and kiss him one last time. He lets out the smallest laugh. “Always the cheeky one.”
A tear slides down his cheek, before he looks at everyone again.