Purity

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For Mom and Dad

When I said it, I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to go home after another long day in the ICU. But then, I didn’t know it was really the end this time.

“Promise me something,” my mom said, her voice cracking, a whisper over the hum of machines that latched onto her body. Sometimes I thought those cords and tubes and electrodes were the only things holding her here. Without them, she’d slip away like a balloon string sliding from a child’s fingers.

I nodded, ignoring the pain in my wrist from grasping her hand over the railing. It was an old pain, a dull ache I’d gotten used to, just like the way my spine begged to be stretched and my lungs longed for air without the scent of rubbing alcohol and gauze. Waiting in a hospital for a few months will do that to a body, I guess—even the body of a ten-year-old.

Mom’s fingers were frail, and her skin seemed too big for the bones underneath. She smiled, pulling at the tape holding a tube into her nose. “Promise me, Shelby, that you’ll do three things. For always, from here on out.” She spoke like
this a lot—like it was the end. It used to scare me, but after so many months I’d sort of gotten used to it.

I kissed her palm the way she used to kiss mine when she put me to bed. Back when I let her read me picture books long after I’d lost interest in them just because I could tell how happy it made her.

“Sure,” I said, ignoring my dad at the door. He was giving me the “five minutes” hand gesture in between intense whispers to a nurse.

My mom rubbed my palm with her thumb, then continued. “Three things. Listen to your father, Shel. Love and listen to him.” She paused, and remnants of a laugh laced her voice when she spoke again. “Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with a girl.” She reached up and ran a hand through the tips of my overgrown hair.

“Okay, Mom,” I sighed. “But if this is about that thing with the makeup, it’s not fair. Dad says I can’t wear
any
.”

My mother shook her head. “I know. It’s not about that. Listen—second thing: Love as much as possible.”

I raised an eyebrow. My mom had always been a dreamer, but this was a little intense even for her.

“Okay, I will,” I said as my dad held up two fingers. “I have to go soon—”

“And last,” she cut me off, her lips trembling a little, like she’d cry if she had the energy, “live without restraint. Do you understand what I mean?”

Not really—I had no clue what she was talking about. One minute left. I stood, leaning over to hug her—she wasn’t
much bigger than me, and my arms felt strong around her body. “Sure.”

“I mean it, Shelby. Promise me,” she said as she hugged me back, her voice growing louder than it’d been all summer, desperation on every syllable.

“Okay, Mom,” I said, sincere. “I promise. All three things. I’ll do them.”

My mom relaxed. The nurse walked in to inject her IV with a clear fluid. I unwound my arms from Mom’s body and waved good-bye as my dad took my place by her bed to bid his own farewell. Two tiny tears dripped down Mom’s cheeks; the nurse wiped them away without hesitation.

When I said it, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know it was
really
the end. And now… how could I possibly break a promise made to a dying woman?

This thing didn’t seem
nearly
as high when I looked at it from the ground.

I cringe and sidestep the rusty rails, balancing carefully on the graying wooden planks. The early summer sun glares at me, reflecting up from the lake water. I sink to my knees and scoot toward the edge.

“You can do it, Shelby!” my friend Ruby calls from below, sprawled on the hood of Lucinda, Jonas’s beat-up hatchback. Ruby gives me a thumbs-up and nods emphatically.

“Are you okay?” calls another voice, tinged with worry and concern. Jonas shields his eyes from the sun and tries to look up at me. “You can come down. We can do it another day.”

“This is the fourth time we’ve been out here!” I shout. “I just have to… do it.” I dare to gaze at the water below.

Promise Three: Live without restraint.
Hurling oneself off an abandoned railroad trestle into a lake seems stupid more than it does unrestrained, now that I think about it. I know the water is deep enough for the jump—I’ve swum in it a hundred times and watched a half dozen other Ridgebrook
students take the plunge. But knowing doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

“Our bodies are our gardens, our wills our gardeners,” Jonas calls.

“What?” I snap back.

“Othello,” Jonas says. He’s read everything Shakespeare ever wrote and memorized half of it. Usually his tendency to throw out quotes isn’t irritating, but when I’m trembling on the edge of a trestle, it’s hard to appreciate dead playwrights.

“It means your will can make your body jump,” Jonas explains.

“Not hardly,” I reply. My body demands I stay put, and is astoundingly persuasive.

Jonas shakes his head. “Hang on, I’m coming up.”

Hanging on is definitely something I’m willing to do. I sit back on the wooden planks and watch Jonas struggle to climb the steep bank that leads up to the railroad tracks. The tracks are long abandoned but sturdy, despite the mountain of kudzu overtaking one side.

“Wait, I want to come!” Ruby shouts, jumping off the car. She nimbly scales the incline, overtaking Jonas, who gets caught in a patch of Carolina jasmine. Ruby giggles as she helps free him, and finally the two maneuver toward me. Jonas huffs as they do so—puberty gave him great hair and skin but took away the wiry athlete’s body he used to have. I think it’s a fair trade, personally—all puberty gave me was what the tactless might call childbearing hips.

“I’m telling you, Shelby, it’s not as bad as you think,”
Ruby says, plopping down as if we were only a few feet off the ground. I glance down at the rows of crisscrossed timber that hold the railway—and us—up; they look like a pile of pickup sticks. What if I jump and hit one of those?

Jonas uses my shoulders for balance as he tiptoes around me, staying much farther from the edge. “If you’re going to do it, you should hurry. Your dad said to be back by four,” he reminds me.

“I know,” I sigh, fiddling with the edge of my shorts.
Promise One: Love and listen to my father.
It’s made me embarrassingly obedient at times—I’ve never missed a “be back by” curfew. It’s also taught me the value of the “If he doesn’t specifically say I
can’t
do it, I
can
do it” philosophy.

I gaze across the landscape—mostly trees, bright summery green, but I can make out cars on the bridge across the lake.

Jonas sighs. “Look, the trestle isn’t going anywhere. We’ll come back sometime this summer—”

“Hey, give her a chance,” Ruby cuts in, leaning so far out over the trestle that Jonas gasps. Ruby laughs and swings her multitoned legs off the side—Ruby has that disease that makes your skin lose pigment, but you’d never really know it was a
disease
with her. Her skin is toffee-colored but dappled with patches of ivory. Up here against the blue sky, it looks like a few puffy clouds have taken refuge on her body.

“Would it help if I jumped with you?” Ruby asks.

“You’re not wearing a bathing suit.”

Ruby shrugs. “Still, would it help?”

I pause. At least this way, I won’t be plummeting to the ground alone. I nod and Ruby leaps to her feet.

“Great,” Jonas mutters. He tugs his shirt off, tossing it to the ground.

“You’re gonna do it, too?” I ask, a grin spreading across my face.

“I can’t be the only one not to,” Jonas says. He rises, then offers me a hand up. Ruby pulls her tank top off, revealing a sparkly pink bra underneath. Jonas rolls his eyes, but even he laughs a little. I hike up the straps of my bathing suit top and look out over the skyline.

“Okay, try to make your body straight like an arrow,” Ruby instructs. “Otherwise it hurts like hell.”

“Fantastic,” Jonas says.

“Ready?” Ruby asks. Jonas wraps his fingers around mine; I reach down and grab Ruby’s as well.

“One,” I say.
This is it, Mom. This is for you.

“Two.”

Promise Three.

“Three.”

I’m not sure who jumps first, but the next thing I know, the three of us sail through the air, blue sky sliding into green trees toward the lake.
This
is life without restraint;
this
is what Mom wanted for me. We release our hands. I’m scared for an instant, then somehow free.

We hit the water. It jets up my nose as I plummet toward the lake’s bottom. I kick off the squishy silt and begin to paddle toward the surface. When I emerge, Jonas and Ruby
are already laughing and splashing. I squint up at the trestle and grin.

We swim for a few minutes before heading back to the shore. Jonas opens Lucinda’s hatchback and tosses us all old Mickey Mouse towels. I wrap mine around myself while they retrieve their shirts. Then we climb into the car.

Lucinda is decked out with zebra-print seat covers and a skull in place of the gearshift knob. She’s not exactly a luxury vehicle, but there’s something about her that tells you “Trust me—I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” Which is why we don’t worry when there’s a loud bang and the check-engine light starts flashing as we rumble along the gravel road.

We arrive at a stop sign, the intersection of the trestle’s tiny road and the main highway. I’m too anxious to wait any longer.

“Where’s my list?” I ask Jonas.

He reaches across my lap and into the glove compartment and retrieves his wallet. He removes a folded-up, floppy paper from the billfold—
Life List
is penciled across the top in bubbly handwriting.

“You have a pen?” he asks, spreading the ancient piece of paper across the steering wheel.

“You think I’d forget a pen on a cross-off day?” I say, grabbing one from the bottom of my purse. Jonas takes the pen, then runs his finger down the paper until he finds the item he’s looking for. He carefully crosses it out, then hands the list over and eases Lucinda forward.

Life List item one hundred and six:
Jump off the Lake Jocassee trestle like Mom did in high school.
It was added to the list soon after she died—judging by Jonas’s handwriting, I’d say fifth or sixth grade. It’s right before
Put flowers on every grave in a cemetery
(haven’t done it yet) and
Learn all eighty-eight constellations
(accomplished late last year). Jonas loves making lists, and he was the one who’d thought of a Life List to help me keep Promise Three. He’s always been its official keeper since the day he began it in the funeral home while we waited for her service to begin.