Before I Die

“Let’s get married,” I blurt out.

“Really?” Her nervousness turns into excitement.

“Yeah. We would’ve gotten married eventually anyway, right? Let’s bring this little guy or girl into the world as a family.”

“Okay! Let’s do it.”

Nevaeh

“Ethan? Are you okay?”

He looks over at me and nods. “I haven’t sat out here in years.” He sounds distant, and even though he’s sitting right next to me, it’s as if he’s a thousand miles away.

“Why not?”

It’s beautiful out here. Whoever designed this area knew what they were doing. It’s an outdoor oasis. A huge bright blue pool with a built-in hot tub. The gorgeous sandstone deck surrounds the water with comfortable lounge chairs and umbrellas spread out. There’s an outdoor patio with a grill and bar. I could see myself lounging out here with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in another… Oh wait! That is what I did all day—except I sipped a glass of whiskey instead of wine—and it felt great. To be able to wear what I want, drink what I want, and read whatever the heck I want, without feeling ashamed or being judged. Today was one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in a while. You know, aside from the lingering issue of Ethan’s friend wanting to sell me, and the fact my parents still don’t know Stephen has been killed.

My heart tightens at the thought. I keep trying to push my grief aside, knowing it won’t do any good. Crying won’t bring my brother back. And I know the last thing he would want is for me to cry and mourn his death. But I can’t help it. He’s only been gone for a few days. The wound is still gaping open, and I’m not sure when, if ever, it will be healed. He was my best friend, my only brother, and now he’s gone.

“The simple answer…life gets away from you,” Ethan says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I stare down at my sandwich. I’ve been trying to eat around the green and red peppers to not seem like I’m picky, but I can’t take it anymore. I take the top bun off and remove the peppers, which are covered in mayonnaise, and place them on my plate.

Ethan stares at me. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you liked.”

I shake my head. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m ungrateful. He didn’t have to bring me food, but he did anyway.

“It’s okay. All of this is great. I just don’t like peppers,” I say, taking a bite of my now-perfect sub.

Ethan nods with a half-smile that causes butterflies to make an unwanted appearance in my belly. “Noted. No peppers in the future. Anything else I should know?”

I’m momentarily taken aback by his question. Is he actually trying to get to know me?

Instead of overthinking his motives, I just go with it. “I could eat Chinese food every day.”

I reach for the Coke, pop the top open, and take a long sip, enjoying the cool, refreshing liquid. I didn’t realize how thirsty the sun has made me.

I glance over at Ethan, who’s watching me. “What? Did I spill something?” I look down, brushing my chest to see if I spilled any crumbs or soda on me.

“No, now will you quit rubbing on yourself?” he growls.

“Sorry,” I say, confused, setting my drink down.

“What do you order when you get Chinese?” he asks, switching from cold to hot like he’s freaking bipolar.

I break off a piece of the bread and pop it into my mouth. Ethan continues to watch me the entire time, but I don’t ask him why. He’d probably just bite my head off again.

“I usually get the sesame chicken and the pork fried rice, but I pick the carrots out because they’re gross.” I scrunch my nose up in disgust. “When I was a kid, my brother and I were required to stay at the table until our plates were cleared. When my mom would make carrots, Stephen would sneak them off my plate and eat them for me.” I find myself smiling at the memory and then get choked up at the thought we’ll never have the chance to create any new memories.

“So, no peppers or carrots, and an endless supply of Chinese will make you happy.”

“And you can’t forget the root beer.” I point to my drink. “Coke is okay, but root beer is better.”

“I have a feeling that anything that has to do with you will be hard to forget.”

Unsure of how to answer that, I reach for the Coke to take a sip, but Ethan reaches for it at the same time, and for a second our fingers touch, and the same electricity I felt the night at the club when we kissed, flows through my veins.

“Are you going to share?” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth. “It was your fault I dropped mine.”