The Other Side of Tomorrow

“That would be nice,” I agree.

“Let me finish getting everything in and then I’ll put something on.”

It isn’t long before her and my mom have arranged the different bouquets around the house. I noticed Harlow disappear upstairs with the sunflowers and can only assume she’s put them in my room.

She comes back down, changed into a pair of sweatpants and tank, her hair gathered up in a messy bun.

“What are you in the mood to watch?” she asks.

“Nothing really,” I admit. “Maybe something light and fun.”

She grins and dives toward the cabinet that hides the DVDs. “I know the perfect thing,” she sing-songs.

She grabs a DVD case and opens it, popping the disc into the player.

It isn’t long until the play screen pops up and I smile back at her.

Chasing Liberty is one of our favorite, go to, girly movies. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be the President’s daughter gallivanting across Europe with Matthew Goode?

She hops onto the couch beside me and grabs a blanket, draping it over the both of us.

“You girls want some popcorn?” Mom calls from behind us in the kitchen.

“Yes!” we squeal together.

Mom laughs and we hear her open the cabinet that houses the boxes of popcorn and other miscellaneous goods.

Harlow rests her head on my shoulder and wiggles around getting comfortable.

“I still think you should come talk to my school,” she whispers.

I swallow thickly. “I don’t think I can do that. Not yet.” I pick at the blanket on my lap.

She sighs. “You could do a lot about this, Willa—to bring awareness to kidney disease and transplant. I know it can’t be easy to talk about it, but someone has to raise their voice and create a platform. That could be you.”

I press my lips together. “I’ll think about it, but I don’t think it’s something I’ll be doing any time soon. Right now I need to learn how to live my life normally again.”

My thoughts stray to the dialysis machine that still lives in my room. It’s been my constant companion the last three years, and if everything checks out good this first month I’ll be saying goodbye to it for good.

Well, until I need another transplant.

But I can’t think about that fact right now. I have to focus on now and the years I have ahead of me with a healthy kidney.

Already, only days after surgery, I feel better than I have in my entire life. It’s weird to look back now to when I was small child and how bad I felt, but I didn’t know because it was normal for me and I thought everybody felt that way. Now, I know the truth. My kidneys never worked right, and this was inevitable.

My mom brings us each a small bowl of popcorn. She then dims the lights and closes the blinds, making it cozy for us.

The garage door opens, and Dad appears with Perry, who’s panting from his walk. Dad unleashes him and he goes straight for his water bowl instead of bounding for me. After he drinks an entire bowl, he wags his tail over to us and lies down on the floor by my feet, resting his head on them.

I smile down at the dog that drives me crazy most of the time but somehow, I share a special bond with.

Harlow sneaks her hand into my popcorn bowl.

“Hey!” I scold playfully pulling my bowl away from her. “You have your own,” I say as on-screen Mandy Moore bumps into Matthew Goode on her way into the concert.

Harlow giggles and grabs a handful from her bowl then stuffs it into her mouth, several pieces falling out and onto the blanket.

We grow quiet, getting sucked into the movie like usual. We’ve probably watched it a hundred times, and it never grows old. The ending always leaves us wishing for more but happy at the same time. I think any good movie or book should be that way. It’s always good to love something so much you wish for more but appreciate that it has to end.