Page 7 of The Day Before


  about the court’s decision,

  Madison was right there,

  making me brownies,

  trying to cheer me up.

  People always say

  chocolate makes

  everything

  better.

  I say friends make everything better.

  Six months ago

  Dear Amber,

  We have stopped writing for the past three months, as you requested. But obviously, we couldn’t, and didn’t, drop the case. And we are terribly sorry you are upset. It hurts us, but we understand.

  We realize you are a very smart young woman, but the fact of the matter is, you’re still a child and we’re sure you can’t quite grasp the concept of what this all means, now or for the future.

  Again, as we’ve said all along, we are family. It’s only right that we know each other, rely on each other, and love each other.

  We are thinking about you now that the verdict has come down from the judge. We are happy knowing that soon you’ll come here to share your life with us. You have so many people here who are anxious to meet you—grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins! It’s going to be wonderful, just wait and see.

  Your parents have asked us to give you some time to come to terms with the court’s decision. They seem to think this will be better for you in the long run. So we are granting them the first turn of shared custody. They will get their six months, and then we will get ours. We look forward to seeing you in March!

  Much love,

  Jeanie and Allen

  extraordinary

  “He’s cute,” Madison says

  as she gnaws on what’s left

  of her thumbnail.

  “I know.

  He’s cool, too.

  He writes songs

  and he loves movies—”

  Then I stop because

  I don’t need to give

  my best friend

  a Cade commercial.

  If I’m sold,

  she’s sold.

  “How’d you meet?”

  “We were both in awe of the jellyfish,” I say.

  Like it’s the most ordinary way

  to meet someone.

  Nothing ordinary about it.

  Nothing ordinary about this day.

  Mostly, nothing ordinary about Cade.

  Some friendly insight

  He goes into

  a fishing supply store.

  We sit across the street.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Madison throws

  question after question at me,

  and I shoot back

  short answers,

  too distracted to say

  anything more.

  I am focused

  on the front door.

  “Wow, this is bad,” she says.

  I whip around to look at her.

  “What? What’s bad?”

  “You’ve fallen for him, cat.”

  “What?” I laugh.

  “He’s my friend.

  I mean, we only met eight hours ago.”

  “I’ve known you a long time, A.

  I’ve never seen you like this.”

  I turn back to the window.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Wrestling

  with the idea that my best friend is right.

  me and him

  So, I care.

  I care about his love of the beach.

  I love it too.

  I care about his songwriting.

  I want to know more.

  I care about the boy

  who watched the sharks

  and wished for confidence like that.

  I understand.

  I care about the fact

  that’s he’s hurting,

  even if I don’t know why.

  I want to help him.

  That’s why I’m here,

  wanting to know what he’s doing.

  He’s like me.

  I want to know more.

  I understand.

  I want to help him.

  And I care. A lot.

  dark thoughts

  Cade cradles

  a black ball

  in both hands

  and carries it

  to his car.

  The way he walks,

  the way he holds it,

  I know it’s heavy.

  Like a cannonball.

  But Cade’s not a pirate

  so it can’t be a cannonball.

  Can it?

  He carries one.

  A staff person

  follows with another.

  Why?

  Why are they carrying

  heavy round weights

  to his car?

  Have you seen that movie?

  Master and Commander?

  Hollom grabs a cannonball

  and jumps into the ocean.

  He’s so distraught,

  he doesn’t want to live anymore.

  I know.

  Oh my God, I know.

  our day

  Jellies and sea stars,

  sharks and rays.

  A day of wonder,

  of magic, no fright.

  Warm sun on skin,

  sweet taffy on tongues.

  A day of exchanges,

  of finding delight.

  Ghost in the lighthouse,

  tunes in the car.

  A day of adventure,

  of seeking the light.

  Castle on sand,

  kite on a string.

  A day of discovery,

  of reaching new heights.

  A day

  that must not,

  cannot,

  end in any kind

  of terrible

  way.

  Six months ago

  Dear Mom,

  Remember when I was like ten years old and I wrote you all kinds of notes after I learned about sex because I was too afraid to ask you the questions to your face?

  Now I’m afraid to admit—I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do this.

  How do I leave everything I know, everything I love, everything I am, to go and live with them?

  It’s like a nightmare and I can’t wake up. I don’t know what to do. Please tell me, what do I do?

  Love you,

  Amber

  caught

  Madison and I

  don’t exchange words.

  She knows I’m scared

  as I eat my fill of

  strawberry,

  lemon,

  popcorn, and

  cotton candy

  jelly beans.

  She drives,

  staying close

  but keeping her distance,

  so he won’t notice

  and try to lose us.

  We follow him to the marina,

  where fishing boats bob

  to the smooth jazz

  of the sea.

  She grabs a parking spot

  and I tell her to stay there,

  sounding much stronger

  than I feel.

  He hauls one of the

  lead weights onto a dock.

  I follow him,

  the smell of fish

  rising up to greet me.

  Before I know it,

  he’s stepped onto a boat.

  Indecision grips me.

  Do I go to him?

  Do I hang back and watch?

  He might be pissed

  I followed him.

  And yet

  I don’t want

  the unthinkable

  to happen either.

  In the act of

  weighing my options,

  precious seconds tick by,

  and I don’t have to choose

  because he chooses for me.

  He’s there,

  off the boat

  and back on the dock,

  looking at me.
r />   “Are you serious?”

  “Cade, I was worried.”

  “I said I’d call you.”

  I flinch as the sharp

  words come at me.

  “I know, but—”

  “Amber, I have to tell you,

  I don’t like stalkers.

  I mean, this is not cool.”

  I swallow and nod.

  “Stay here,” he orders.

  The sun is setting

  in the distance.

  I wish we were on

  the beach,

  watching,

  playing,

  laughing

  like we were before.

  I close my eyes and wish.

  Please remember how we were before.

  He comes back

  carrying the other weight

  he’d left in the car.

  He takes a deep breath,

  looks at the boat for a second,

  then looks back at me.

  This time,

  his words are softer.

  “All right.

  Follow me.”

  a good son

  Black letters

  on the hull say

  THE GAL.

  She looks much older

  than the ones around her.

  Smaller, too.

  I step up and over,

  onto the boat,

  and watch as

  Cade puts the lead weight

  next to the other one,

  near a big net.

  “We lost a couple of these

  last time we were out,” he says.

  “I was supposed to replace them

  after our last trip.”

  “What are they for?”

  “They keep the lines deep.

  That’s where the fish are.”

  Relief washes over me.

  They’re for fishing.

  Not for drowning.

  “Is this your dad’s boat?”

  “Yeah.

  He’s a commercial fisherman.”

  The wind has picked up,

  and I wrap my arms

  around myself, trying

  to stay warm.

  Cade doesn’t seem to notice.

  He’s scanning the boat,

  like he’s lost something.

  He steps past me,

  and I want so much

  to touch him,

  to feel we’re connected again.

  But I wait,

  because if drumming

  has taught me anything,

  it’s that timing

  is everything.

  “Come on,” he finally says.

  “Let’s go eat.

  You must be starving.”

  But I don’t move,

  because there’s something

  more going on here.

  “Can I meet your dad?”

  He looks at me,

  but the falling darkness

  provides him

  with a mask.

  “No,” he replies softly.

  “Not today.”

  I guess that’s

  the only hint

  I’m going to get.

  together again

  Back on the street,

  Madison stands by her car,

  the sun now tucked in tight,

  the moon rising, ready

  to take watch over our world.

  I hug her and say good-bye.

  No explanation necessary.

  She knows this

  is where I need to be.

  Back in his Beetle,

  a dozen questions

  circle my mind like vultures.

  I can’t let them move in

  on this moment though.

  It’s not time.

  Now is the time

  to let him know

  he is safe with me.

  That we can have fun

  and be friends,

  and it can be enough.

  I’ll make it be enough.

  unnecessary

  I get my words ready.

  I want to tell him

  I won’t push him anymore.

  That whatever’s going on,

  it’s his business,

  and whether he wants to tell me or not,

  it doesn’t matter, we can still

  be friends.

  Being a friend means

  knowing when to push

  and knowing when to pull back.

  I’d forgotten that.

  I get my words ready,

  mixing them up and around,

  wanting to say just

  the right thing.

  But while I’m

  preparing,

  sorting,

  organizing,

  stressing,

  he speaks.

  “I’ll tell you, Amber.

  I will tell you.

  Just not now.”

  He reaches over for

  my hand. Holds it there,

  on my leg. My heart

  skips a beat, and I give

  his hand a little squeeze

  as I put all of my

  carefully selected words

  away.

  that’s more like it

  A pink lobster

  glows neon

  in the window.

  Because it’s dark,

  I can’t make out

  the name of the place.

  He leads me in,

  waves at the guy

  behind the register,

  and takes me

  to a booth in the corner.

  It’s obvious

  he knows this place.

  It’s more than just somewhere

  to get something to eat.

  I look behind me

  and see a bar

  and pool tables.

  We’re underage,

  but, obviously,

  for reasons I don’t understand,

  it doesn’t matter.

  “So, no Chinese food?”

  “Nope.”

  And that’s all he says.

  This boy likes to keep me guessing.

  The waiter comes over,

  says, “Hey, Cade,”

  and asks if it’ll be the usual.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “But two this time.”

  He knows what he wants.

  No flipping coins.

  I tell him I need to use the

  restroom, so he gets up

  and leads me to the back

  where there are two doors,

  one with a GONE FISHING sign

  and one with a GONE SHOPPING sign.

  “I hate shopping,” I tell him.

  “You can go in with me if you want.”

  Is he flirting with me?

  Damn, I hope so.

  piling it on

  As I wash my hands,

  I stare in the mirror,

  thinking about this

  weird and wonderful day.

  It didn’t turn out

  like I thought it would.

  Nothing ever does.

  The good news is

  I’ve hardly thought about

  tomorrow at all.

  The bad news is

  I’ve now added new worries

  to the pile that’s so high,

  it feels like it could topple over

  at any moment.

  Cade???

  Why the hell are you here?

  What can I do to help you?

  Please, there must be something?

  Will I ever see you again?

  What if I don’t like my new family?

  What if my new family doesn’t like me?

  What if my real family doesn’t miss me?

  What if my real family even likes having me gone?

  Wish I could demolish it

  the way Cade destroyed

  that sand castle.

  If only it were that

>   easy.

  hints of truth

  My phone rings.

  It’s my sister.

  She yells at me,

  says Mom and Dad

  had a horrible day,

  that I’m being selfish

  and I should come home tonight

  and not make them wait

  until tomorrow.

  I’m so tired of her yelling.

  It’s all she does lately,

  going on about how

  I’m not the only one

  affected by the verdict.

  But what the hell am I supposed to do?

  I can barely keep it together myself;

  how am I supposed to help her?

  Help my parents?

  Help my friends?

  I can’t.

  “Kelly, don’t yell at me!

  I needed to do this today.

  I needed one day to myself.

  Whatever I say, you’re not going

  to understand, but—”

  “They think you’re not coming back.”

  Her voice shakes as she says it.

  “What? Why—”

  “They think you don’t want to go,

  so you’ve run away.

  And they feel bad, like they didn’t

  fight hard enough.”

  “I’m coming back.”

  But I say it like there’s sand in my throat.

  “You took your sticks.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You took them, just in case.

  Maybe you left, thinking you’d come back.

  But admit it, Amber.

  It’s crossed your mind.

  Not coming back.”