He laughed. “True, but you hit like a girl.”
My mouth fell open. Reaching over, I punched him as hard as I could in the arm. He yelped, sending a little thrill of satisfaction rushing through me. I giggled as he shook his head.
Turning to check on Andy, I felt a wave of guilt hit me.
Laughing had become so foreign to me. Pretending to be happy: now that was something I’d mastered. But actual happiness? That feeling that races through you when you think about how perfect a moment is? That was rare. It was like those moments stopped existing the second I found out Andy was dying.
I felt bad about laughing. I shouldn’t have been feeling happy. Happiness and laughter were feelings reserved for moments of hope and joy. Nothing about this situation exuded that.
“What’s wrong?”
I glanced at Seth, surprised he’d noticed. But then again, he always noticed. He knew me so well.
“From laughing and smiling to on the verge of tears in ten seconds flat. Talk to me, Em.”
I shrugged, not trusting myself with words. If I opened my mouth right then, all that would spill out would be a jumbled, sobbing mess. I couldn’t imagine my life after Andy. He had been sick for nine years, terminal for six months. I should have felt prepared, but how can you ever be ready for that?
Just when I thought I had myself under control, I’d remember, or do something, that would remind me of Andy and the fact that I was losing him. My heart was a mess, and my head was confused. I didn’t know what I should be feeling. Or how I should be acting. I was mourning him and he wasn’t even gone yet.
“I’m here. Whenever you need to talk, I’m here for you. Always.” Seth reached over and squeezed my hand. I managed a smile, comforted by his words.
Seth.
The boy who had been as big a part of my life as Andy had been since we were twelve. The three of us, against the world.
I snuck a look his way. His hands gripped the wheel, his eyes firmly on the road. His dark mop of hair was wild and unruly, but it suited him. He was attractive, kind, and funny, yet he’d never had a serious relationship. I didn’t question it, because what business was it of mine? Of course I’d spoken to Andy about it, who had laughed and shrugged it off as him just not having found the right girl. How do you find the right girl when you’re not even looking?
Relaxing into my seat, I tried to fight the sleepiness that was overcoming me. I glanced behind me at Andy, who was propped up on his pillows, legs sprawled across the back seat. I swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat. He looked so peaceful when he slept. He never complained about the pain, even though I could see it in his eyes every time he moved. He was so desperate to protect me from what was happening to his body, but how could he? Nothing was going to change the path he was on.
Shifting back around in my seat, my eyes locked briefly with Seth’s. I forced a small smile, knowing it wouldn’t fool him. He knew me better than almost anyone. Almost. Soon that “almost” wouldn’t apply anymore. Soon he would be all I had.
“There’s a truck stop just up here. We should stop for a drink. I could use a caffeine hit.”
I nodded, not bothering to feign interest. I mean, what was the point? That was my attitude a lot these days. Though I tried not to show it, I was losing faith in life and humanity. Life was just a game and the end result was death. There was no way around that. No restarting things because you were playing it badly. You had one shot, and that was it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to play anymore.
I’d lost both my parents when I was fourteen to a car accident. The last words I spoke to my mother were, “I wish I’d been born to someone else.” And all because she’d refused me a pair of three-hundred-dollar jeans.
For a long time, I’d hated myself. I hated the person I was, and I’d blamed myself for not being a better daughter. When I was little, every night, I’d kiss my parents goodnight and tell them I loved them. I would end every phone call with I love you. As soon as we moved to Chicago, all that had changed. And when I started high school, I wanted to be a different person. I was sick of the goody-two-shoes persona I had going on. I wanted to rebel.
I was a normal teenager, acting like a normal teenager—only I hadn’t expected not being allowed the chance to rectify my behavior. Every teenager acts up. Then you look back on it and laugh. You don’t expect to lose everything.
The worst thing was, in the trunk of the car was a bag from Diesel, with my three-hundred-dollar pair of jeans.
I still have them now, still unworn, wrapped in tissue paper and charred from the wreckage. Still sitting in a box under my bed as a constant reminder to myself to never let those you love go a day without hearing those words.
“Em?”
I looked up. Seth was staring at me. Glancing around, I realized we’d pulled into a truck stop. I looked out the window, embarrassed that he’d caught me lost in my own thoughts. The parking lot was nearly deserted, apart from an older couple getting into a beat-up old Dodge two spots away from us. I watched the man as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled up at him with love in her eyes. My heart sank. That would never be us. Andy I weren’t going to grow old together. There were so many things we’d never get to do.
“Sorry,” I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt. Getting out of the car, I opened the passenger door. Andy roused as I gently shook his shoulder. “Hey, baby. Do you need anything?” I asked, my voice soft. He winced in pain and my heart broke for him. I wanted to burst into tears because I couldn’t make everything right.
He was a shadow of the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. His skin was so pale; it almost looked translucent in the soft glow of the morning light. His beautiful eyes, once so dark and full of life, were now dull, and hiding so much pain. His dark hair, short and thin, had grown back since the chemo had stopped, but it was nothing like the lustrous, curly locks he’d once had.
He hesitated, his eyes dropping. “I need help . . .” He broke off, embarrassed. I nodded and assisted him out of the car. He didn’t need to say it. Nowadays, it was a regular occurrence.
“Do you need your chair?” I asked.
Seth appeared by my side. “Anything I can do to help?”