The Day Before (13 page)

thank you, God

We’re almost to my house.
I want to tell him
to keep driving.
To get on the freeway
and take me with him.

I want to tell him
I’m too scared to go
and I really
can’t do this.

That I talk a good talk
and I tell other people
it will be okay,
but when it comes to me
and my world being
ripped apart,
I can’t do it.

Out of nowhere Cade asks,
“Do you think about her?”

“Who?”

“The other girl.
The girl who died.”

“Sometimes.”

“If you hadn’t been,
you know, switched,
your parents would be
the sad ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy how an accident
worked out for the best, huh?
Like us running in to each other.
I mean, what are the chances?
Makes me think maybe God
does know what He’s doing.”

Does He?
Or is it all chance?

Heads: This girl.
Tails: That girl.

Me
or
her.

And that’s when it hits me
like a stick on the toms.

I’m the lucky one.

that’s what it is

Life is the bad
with all the good.

The deadly sharks
with the beautiful sea stars.

The gigantic waves
with the sand castles.

The licorice
with the lemon and lime.

The loud lyrics
with the rhythm of the music.

The liver disease
with the love of a father and son.

It’s life.

Sweet, beautiful,
wind on your face,
air in your lungs,
kisses on your lips
life.

is that a promise?

I point the way.

And even though
I know it’s coming,
and have been mentally
preparing myself,
when he stops the car,
I can’t hold it in.

More tears fall.

Because I want him to be okay
and I want me to be okay,
but mostly I don’t want him
to forget me.

He holds me,
kisses my tears,
and before I can speak,
he whispers,
“Let’s set a place, to meet,
as soon as you’re back.
Do you like the zoo?”

“Love it.”

“Okay, the Oregon Zoo.
September twentieth, ten a.m.”

And before I know it,
it’s happening again.

“Did you see that movie?” I ask.

He pauses for a second.
He loves this part,
where I search his eyes,
wondering if he knows.

Then he smiles.
“Before Sunrise?
The most romantic movie ever,
according to my mom.
Yeah. Well,
I’ll be there.
And so will you.”

And oh my God, I believe him.
I really believe him.

parting is just plain sorrow

We exchange everything.
I tell him to call me
as soon as he can
and let me know
all is well.

“When do you leave?” he asks.

“My flight is at noon.”

“Hopefully you’ll sleep.”

“Yeah,” I say, poking him in the side,
“hopefully you will too.”

And then laughter,
helping to fight back the tears.

He kisses me, softly,
like that first time.

“I wish I could be with you,” I tell him.
And the laughter loses
as the tears fall again.

He can only nod.

I get my bag and open it.
I hand him my drumsticks.
“Keep them safe for me, okay?”

“You got it.
But I don’t have anything for you.”

I’m about to say it’s fine,
when he holds his finger in the air
and reaches into his pocket.

He hands me the penny.
Our penny.
“To remember our lucky day,” he says.

“I’ll never forget,” I whisper.

“Me neither.”

There is one last kiss.
The longest one yet.

And then he’s gone.

he’s a good example

It’s like
the silence
that follows

the beautiful song.

Or
the darkness
that follows

the glitter in the air.

He knew
what to do
to make it better.

As I walk toward
the door,
I take a deep breath.

I know
what to do
to make it better.

As he
embraced me,
I will
try to embrace
this day
that follows

the day before.

Two weeks later

Dear Cade,

A real letter this time. Decided to switch it up from our twenty e-mails a day. Besides, I wanted to send you a little something.

I’m so glad you are feeling better. Hope your mom is being nice to you—is she trying to serve you macaroni and cheese, the ultimate comfort food? Tell her you want clam chowder instead. With freshly baked bread.

In the morning, we’re getting up early. Going to San Antonio for the weekend. Allen and Jeanie want to show me the Alamo. They’re trying to talk me into getting some cowboy boots. Be careful. You may not recognize me when you see me in September.

Enjoy your box of jellies. It’s open because I took out all the buttered popcorn ones, so you have nothing to worry about. I gave them to Allen. What do you know, he says he loves that kind. I wonder if that means you two wouldn’t get along? Just kidding. I think they’d like you. And you would probably like them. They’re all right.

Speaking of jellies, you should start working on my song. Who cares if it hurts to sing, I want my song! (Actually, I really hope you’re not in too much pain. Have your friends brought you any dirty magazines? I can ask Allen to buy some and I’ll send them to you—ha!)

Wish I could bring you presents in person. I think about you all the time. In fact, I watched a good movie last night, and wondered if you’ve seen it.

Guess which one.

Go on. Guess.

Hugs and kisses,
Amber