Page 10 of The Day Before


  He knows. Of course he knows.

  But throughout the day

  he’s been trying to tell himself

  maybe there’s a chance for the

  heavens to open up and a

  miracle will rescue them all.

  I’ve been the same way.

  If I just ignore it,

  pretend it isn’t happening,

  get some distance,

  maybe somehow,

  some way,

  everything will magically

  change.

  And suddenly I get it.

  There isn’t magic out there.

  There is magic here.

  Right here, in this place

  that brought us together

  the day before

  we face our fears

  and our lives change forever.

  Magic in the jellies.

  Magic in the lighthouse.

  Magic in the music.

  Magic in the kisses.

  Magic in the glitter.

  Magic in us.

  What we need

  will appear

  right when we need it.

  Just like it did

  today.

  alike more than different

  I snuggle in close

  and kiss him.

  He tastes like

  campfire and

  salty air.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  “My stuff must seem so trivial to you.”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “But it’s not a matter of life and

  death.”

  “To your new parents, I think it is.

  Losing you would be like

  another daughter dying.”

  “But how can you lose something you’ve never had?”

  “You’re their daughter,” he tells me.

  “You’re connected, whether you like it or not.”

  “Do you ever wish it were someone else?” I ask.

  “Like, your brother instead?

  I’ve wished it were my sister.

  Which is just so wrong.

  Why would I wish this on anyone?”

  He kisses me.

  “Because you’re human.”

  He sighs.

  “Just like me.”

  imagine

  And because we are human,

  we feel it all—

  the anger,

  the sadness,

  the fear,

  the resentment.

  Regardless

  of how many people

  tell us

  everything will be fine,

  we’ll live,

  life will go on—

  we can’t help

  but feel

  it all.

  In the park

  one day on a walk,

  my dad told me

  that my feelings

  wouldn’t last

  forever.

  He said one day,

  though it’s hard to imagine,

  they’d be replaced

  by new ones.

  Good or bad,

  they would be replaced.

  I think about that

  and see my dad is probably

  right.

  When Cade’s surgery

  is over and he’s fine,

  and his dad is getting better,

  all these bad feelings

  he has now

  will be replaced—

  by gratitude and love.

  I wish he could just

  skip forward.

  And so I say,

  “Cade, close your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it. Close them.”

  I wait. He does.

  “Imagine four weeks from today,

  you’re at home, watching movies,

  ripping through Netflix.

  Your friends come by,

  bring you some dirty magazines,

  or some graphic novels,

  and they’re like, Hey Cade,

  you look good, how’s your dad?

  And you break out this gigantic smile

  because you can tell them

  He’s doing good.

  Better than good.

  He’s at home, getting better,

  calling me every day,

  bugging the crap out of me.”

  I look at him.

  It’s all over his face.

  Gratitude and love.

  I lean in and whisper,

  “Keep your mind there.”

  an agreement of sorts

  In my family

  my dad was always

  the brave one.

  The one who’d

  check under

  my bed and in

  my closet

  at bedtime

  to make sure

  the monsters were gone.

  The one who’d

  kill the giant spider

  while Mom, Kelly, and I

  went screaming

  into the other room.

  The one who’d

  sleep with a baseball bat

  under his side of the bed,

  ready for intruders.

  I reach for the

  silver sand dollar

  hanging from my neck,

  hidden under my shirt.

  I missed Dad when he moved out.

  I still miss him sometimes,

  even though we see each other often.

  I miss seeing him at the dinner table

  or on the couch watching a game.

  I just miss him being there.

  I try to imagine

  myself in Cade’s shoes,

  having to be the brave one

  for a change.

  Having to rescue my dad

  from the big, ugly spider.

  I’d be scared, but I’d do it.

  Just like I know

  Cade is going to do it.

  He reaches over

  and touches my

  silver dollar.

  “It’s beautiful,” he says.

  “A gift from my dad.”

  He nods.

  Waits a minute.

  “My dad didn’t ask me to do it, you know.

  To be the donor.

  I volunteered.

  I just … I didn’t know I’d be this scared.”

  Now that is a beautiful gift.

  “I think the fear is normal, Cade.

  Just don’t let it win.”

  He whispers, “I won’t if you won’t.”

  sweet dreams

  It’s cold.

  And late.

  We pack up

  and head inside.

  Cade has to be at

  the hospital by eight.

  “You need sleep,” I tell him.

  “Let’s rest for a few hours.”

  In a chilly, dark room

  at the back of the house,

  we crawl into his bed,

  and we spoon.

  I’ve been wondering something.

  So I ask him.

  “What was with the boat today?”

  He strokes my hair.

  Kisses my ear.

  “I want to tell Dad it’s ready to go.

  That it’s here, waiting for us.

  That in four or five months, we’ll be fishing again.”

  I smile.

  That’s good.

  Fear isn’t the only thing he’s feeling.

  “Did you see that movie?” I ask after a while.

  He mumbles, “What?”

  He’s so tired. Almost asleep.

  “Hope Floats,” I whisper.

  “I’ve always loved that title.”

  messy

  I can’t sleep.

  My thoughts won’t let me.

  So, while he sleeps,

  I go to the kitchen,

  and I clean.

  All those dirty dishes,

  left behind by
a woman

  consumed with worry.

  She shouldn’t have to

  come home to them

  and be reminded

  of that worry.

  She should come home

  and feel relieved.

  Relieved the worst is over.

  Relieved the house is clean.

  The act of scrubbing

  soothes my soul, just a little.

  Still, my thoughts

  keep spinning

  around and around

  like the sponge

  in my hand.

  How can I leave him?

  How can I say good-bye,

  let him go to the hospital,

  a place he hates,

  a place he fears?

  I put the last dish away.

  The kitchen is clean.

  But everything else?

  What a mess.

  crunch time

  I open the sliding-glass door

  to let the cool breeze

  rush in and chase away

  the stale air.

  Goose bumps rise

  on my arms.

  The waves pound the shore

  in the distance, and home

  seems so far away.

  I think of Mom in bed,

  trying to sleep,

  but thinking of me.

  Maybe Kelly’s with her.

  I hope she’s with her.

  The affectionate one.

  The pretty one.

  The one who looks like Mom,

  with her blue eyes and blond hair.

  Kelly was right.

  I was selfish,

  to do this to them.

  But I had to come.

  I had to get away.

  The day before

  your life changes

  is a big day.

  But it’s not

  the day before

  anymore.

  The day is here.

  The day I’ve dreaded,

  and now dread even more,

  is here.

  Three days ago

  Dear Amber,

  I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately.

  I know you think I hate you more than I love you.

  I know it might seem like I don’t care that all of this is happening to you.

  So I just wanted to tell you, I do care. And believe it or not, I’m going to miss you.

  Remember—you will be back.

  We’ll be waiting.

  I love you, Jelly.

  Kelly Belly

  stronger than I thought

  At five I wake

  Cade with kisses

  and cuddles.

  “Can’t we just stay here?” he whispers,

  holding me so tight,

  there is nothing else

  in the entire world

  but me and him.

  My heart

  begs me to say

  yes.

  But my brain tells me

  regret would come,

  knocking loudly,

  invading this sweet space

  and ruining everything.

  I wish time would stop.

  But whether on sea stars

  or under glitter

  or in Cade’s arms,

  wishes don’t always come true.

  So I kiss him

  one more time

  and apologize

  to my very

  fragile heart.

  “Time to go, baby.”

  hearts in the sand

  He leads me

  to the beach

  one last time.

  I understand.

  It feels wrong to leave

  without wishing the ocean

  a proper good-bye.

  It’s still dark, but

  the moon glows,

  smiling down on us.

  Cade grabs a stick.

  Makes a big heart in the sand.

  Writes AMBER.

  I take the stick.

  Intertwine a heart with his.

  And I write CADE.

  Then he wraps

  his arms around me,

  our bodies intertwined

  like the hearts and

  our connection so strong,

  it’s impossible

  we only met yesterday.

  It’s not long enough.

  Damn it.

  It’s just not long enough.

  here we go

  “Let me take you home?” he asks.

  “On my way to Portland?”

  I smile.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  the road back

  He drives.

  I call the limo driver

  and cancel my ride.

  He drives.

  I text my mom and dad

  and tell them I’ll see them soon.

  He drives.

  I lean in and kiss his cheek.

  Turn up the song,

  Falling In by Lifehouse.

  He drives.

  The sun rises.

  The sky lights up

  with all the pretty sky colors,

  just like yesterday.

  I turn to Cade.

  “You are my sky.”

  And I want to feel happy,

  but the closer we get,

  the sadder I feel.

  He still drives.

  I grip his leg.

  Squeeze it tight.

  “Slow down,” I say.

  But of course he can’t.

  He has an appointment.

  So he drives.

  And I start to cry.

  I want the happy ending

  Cade pulls over.

  “I don’t want to go,” I say.

  “I know. Me neither.”

  “Let me go with you.

  I can take care of you.

  I’ll be the best nurse ever.”

  He takes my face

  in his hands and

  looks at me with

  those gorgeous brown eyes

  that I lose myself in

  like the sweetest of songs.

  “Did you see that movie?”

  I think.

  I think hard.

  Boy leaving?

  Girl crying?

  What is it?

  But I’m too sad

  and I’m drawing a blank.

  I shake my head.

  “Lloyd Dobler ring any bells?”

  Another of my mom’s favorites.

  Say Anything with John Cusack.

  He goes on.

  “That scene, where Lloyd holds

  the radio above his head?

  Think of me. Every night, think of me,

  and pretend I’m doing that.”

  I shake my head.

  “But he goes with her.

  They end up together.

  It’s not fair.”

  He kisses me.

  “Who says we don’t end up together too?”

  getting closer

  I reach for my bag.

  Get out my jelly beans.

  But I eat alone,

  because he’s having surgery

  and can’t eat anything.

  Oh my God.

  The steak and lobster was like his last meal.

  Of course he wanted something good.

  Something great.

  Because what if—

  I shake my head.

  Pop in another jelly bean,

  cream soda this time,

  and Cade looks at me funny.

  “They help me.

  I know, it’s weird.

  They just do.”

  “What’s your least favorite flavor?” he asks.

  “Licorice. Yours?”

  “Buttered popcorn.”

  “And your favorite?” I ask.

  “Sour cherry.”

  “You should write a song.

  A song about jelly beans.

  That’d
be cool.”

  He smiles.

  “Maybe I will.

  I’ll call it Amber and Her Jellies.”

  “And they’ll think,

  Amber’s eating jellyfish?”

  We laugh.

  My mind drifts back

  to that first moment

  when I saw him,

  admiring their loveliness,

  while I admired him.

  His beautiful face.

  His intense stare.

  His skinny jeans.

  And I guess he goes back too.

  “In case you don’t know,” he says,

  “I’m really glad we met.”

  I squeeze his leg again.

  “Holy shit, Cade,

  I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Cummings. Caden Cummings.

  No relation to the poet.”

  “Amber Jacobson.

  But you already know that.

  And no relation to the golfer.”

  “We’ll have to exchange e-mails.

  Addresses. Everything.”

  “It’s all yours,” I tell him.

  And I mean it.

  He can have it all.

  He’s already got the most

  important thing anyway.

  My heart.

  and closer

  “I’ll see you again,” he asks.

  “Right, angel?”

  When he calls me that,

  I get all tingly.

  Though I can tell,

  it’s less about me

  and more about him.

  Eight o’clock is getting closer

  by the minute.

  “Yes, Cade.

  I promise.

  You’ll see me again.”