Another Day (Every Day 2)

“Midnight,” he tells me. “I have to be back by midnight.”

“But why? Why midnight?”

Now I feel him shake his head. “I can’t be sure. But it’s up to the body, and the body just knows.”

“I’m going to stay here,” I tell him.

“I’m going to come back tomorrow,” he promises.

More time. More time together.

“I would end it,” he says. “I would end all the changing if I could. Just to stay here with you.”

“But you can’t end it. I know that.”

I don’t sound mad or disappointed. I’m not mad or disappointed.

It is what it is.

—

We start to look at the clock. Knowing. It’s time.

—

“I’ll wait for you,” I tell him as he gets dressed, as he gets ready to go.

“We’ll both be waiting,” he says. “To get back to this.”

—

I have no idea what I am doing, and I am okay with that.

—

He kisses me goodbye. Like he is heading off to school. Or work. Like this is the future. Like we are used to this.

—

I don’t know what to do after he’s gone. There’s no computer up here for email, no phone reception.

I pick up First Day on Earth. These are not his words, but they are words he’s guided me to. For now, that’s enough.

I have spent too much of the day sleeping. I read for a little while, and then spend the rest of the night dreaming.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I wake up really cold, then start the furnace and suffer as it gets way too hot. I guess these are my options.

I know A won’t be back right away, but I also know that even if he wakes up five hours away, he’ll find a way to be here. I just have to keep myself occupied until then.

I finish reading First Day on Earth and wish I’d brought a longer book, or even my homework. Artie doesn’t have any books around that I can find. Only back issues of magazines like Field & Stream.

There’s an old newspaper where the crossword hasn’t been done. I try that, but I’m not very good at it. I play some games on my phone, and even walk around outside for a little in the hope of getting reception.

I am bored. So bored. And, even worse, I can hear Justin laughing at me, telling me, “What did you think would happen?”

“He’s coming,” I say.