Just a Normal Tuesday

by Kim Turrisi

  I hope that you aren’t disappointed in my lack of ability to just be like, “Oh it’s okay that you killed yourself on purpose, Jen.” It’s not.

  Full disclosure, Mom took the pill bottles from your bathroom and I swiped a boatload. I don’t know why you had all those meds. I guess I’ll never know but there sure were a lot of them. I just don’t know how to be me without you. I need your help, but you’re not here. I can’t articulate the depth of missing you. The things we were supposed to do together. I mean, I even ditched school to spend time at the cemetery with you.

  I wish so many things. That you were here. That I knew why you were hurting inside so much. That I would wake up and this wouldn’t be. That I could put my arms around you one more time. That I wasn’t going to be an only child for the rest of my life.

  I’m working on forgiving you. That’s the best I can do. None of this changes the fact that I will always love and miss you.

  But. Still.

  I’m pissed.

  Really pissed.

  Kai Bear.

  P.S. I love you.

  I fold it neatly, placing it next to me just as a flurry of texts arrives.

  My mom. Oh, Kai. Jen would love this. I do, too.

  I never talk to Mom about guys. That was my sister’s department.

  TJ. Your smile made me cry. And, he’s hot. Really hot.

  I crack up, knowing he’s freaking out right about now.

  Em. That’s what happy looks like. Love you. Em

  * * *

  I inch as close as possible to Graham without being under his skin, counting down the number of hours — about 168, give or take a few minutes — that we have together before we leave what has become my refuge. Oh, and the very first place I fell in love. The absolute last place in the universe you’d expect to find it.

  We’re hidden away in our special nook in the woods with the world locked out, my compact frame tucked under his arm like it was meant to be there. I hand him the first in my deck of Jen’s postcards.

  “That’s incredible,” he says, checking it out.

  “Barcelona. Sagrada Família. She loved Gaudí’s architecture. Flip it over.”

  “You want me to read it?”

  “I want you to know her,” I say gently. He flips the postcard over. Just the sight of her handwriting moves me in a way nothing else ever will.

  I’ve been eating my way through Spain. Tapas is the answer to everything. I miss you like crazy. Next time, I’m bringing you with me. Xo JJ

  He repositions me so I’m closer to him, rubbing my arm.

  “It kills me that there will never be a next time.”

  His calming hand strokes my shoulder tenderly. I draw another postcard from the pile and can’t help but giggle.

  “The Lindt chocolate factory in Zurich. She loved candy, especially all things chocolate.” Turning it over to read it to him, I say, “This is vintage Jen.”

  Ok, tried over a dozen different chocolates but found something that changed my life. No shit. It’s a truffle. When you bite into it, an explosion of creamy chocolate fills your mouth. Better than sex. Not kidding. Bringing some home … if they make it. xo JJ

  “I’m not sure about that better-than-sex thing. Were they?” he asks. Kind of a sly way to find out if I’m a virgin.

  “They never made it home. However, I can say with certainty they have to be better than the one and only time I ever had sex.”

  Graham holds on to me tighter. I’d give anything to get that day back. But it doesn’t work that way. No do-overs for bad-judgment sex.

  Somehow I want to tell him more. “I fell for an older guy’s BS moves. It lasted about a minute, the relationship and the sex, then he dumped me. By text.”

  “What a piece of shit.” He kisses my forehead, gently resting his head next to mine. In the tenderest voice, he cements his place in my heart. “I would never do that to you. Ever.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asks so sweetly I feel the tingles.

  “Anything,” I say.

  “Your sister signs her name ‘JJ.’ What’s that about?”

  That’s not what I thought he was gonna ask. “When I was two and a half, she giggled at the way I said Jen, so I’d repeat it over and over to get her laughing. It worked every time. Jen Jen. It just stuck as we grew up. I was the only one who called her that,” I explain.

  His eyes mist up along with mine. I think I need a subject change.

  “Tell me something fun about Justin. I want to know everything.”

  He perks up, tapping his foot against the side of my shin.

  “He loved messing with people, pranks were his thing. Like, one time he put itching powder on my jockstrap before practice. As soon as I started to sweat … well, you can imagine. The whole team was in on it, even Coach. While I was freaking out, he was rolling on the ground laughing his ass off. For real, I thought I was coming out of my skin.”

  I can’t help cracking up.

  “Really?” He gets all fake indignant.

  “Sorry ...”

  “It took a twenty-minute ice-cold shower to get all of it off.” He tries to look pouty but his smirk keeps sneaking through.

  I muss his hair up. He wrinkles his nose.

  “Why do I think you got him back?”

  A grin spreads across his chiseled jaw.

  “I may have filled one of his AXE sprays with vinegar. When he doused himself, it wasn’t pretty.”

  “I better watch my back with you.”

  I stroke his hair. I kiss his cheek softly before going nose to nose with him, our eyes locking.

  “Promise me we’ll figure this out so we can see each other after we leave here,” I say, trying not to sound like a clingy girlfriend.

  “Kai?”

  I turn to face him. His eyes are angelic, face inches from mine. Our arms brush up against each other.

  “You make it better for me.” He doesn’t say what it is, because I know. I know.

  “Same.”

  TJ pops into my head — that word is our bond. But it also bonds me to this boy, who’s been brought into my life by death.

  “It’s just that I never thought I’d feel anything like this, my heart was so closed and broken.” I can’t believe how exposed I am. But I don’t know how not to be with him.

  The expression in his eyes is just such that my heart swells and my crush takes a wild turn.

  “I love you, Kai.”

  You know when your face does that thing when someone utters the words I love you?

  That happens.

  “Same.”

  His lips caress my face with delicate kisses before his tongue finds my open mouth. As we’re wrapped around each other, his soft lips kiss me harder and harder to the beat of my pounding heart.

  I could kiss him forever.

  Chapter 22

  My mom just sent me a text to tell me that the gap-year idea is not dead. It’s not a sure thing but Dad put it back on the table. Such a lawyer. We’re negotiating my life.

  I’m flipping out right now and talking to myself. “Europe, here I come. Maybe. I can’t believe it.”

  I text back in all caps. YOU ARE THE BEST.

  It’s a lot but I can’t help myself.

  My mind is racing a hundred miles an hour. I have a shot. After senior prom, I might be going to Italy. Or Spain. Or Ireland.

  Wait. Prom.

  Graham and me at prom. With TJ and Em.

  The sound of Cass opening the door stops my spin. I see the journal in her hand. Oh that. The sight of it deflates my bubble.

  So caught up in my head, I almost forgot about today’s task. Almost.

  “Ready to do this?” Cass asks.

  Not really, but Marco has been adamant — more like militant — a
bout sticking to the journaling plan, and it’s working so I’m not arguing for once. Today we have to write about the things we miss the most about the person we lost. Usually Cass and I retire to our own corners, but tonight we choose to lie down on our throw rug with pillows under our heads, right next to each other.

  “My grandma used to put her pillow next to mine when I was younger and couldn’t fall sleep. It worked every time. It was our thing. Or one of our things, actually. We had so many of them — I never realized until she died. You know?” Cass says.

  Yeah, I know.

  “Jen and I had movie night. It was usually Pitch Perfect if we were feeling the funny. The Notebook was the go-to cry-your-eyes-out choice. We could quote both movies verbatim yet it never grew old. We mixed plain M&M’S with SkinnyPop Popcorn for the perfect salty-sweet combination. Our version of trail mix. I really miss that,” I admit.

  I open my journal to get started. Cass does the same. Together makes it better, more bearable.

  Our writing assignment today is to jot down what we miss the most about the person we lost and direct it to them. Here you go, Jen. I miss you most when I hear any song by The Script. In fact, I miss all your music texts. You were my music guru. I miss you most when something like this thing with Graham is happening and I don’t have my sister to text WTF? I miss you most when I think about never having a movie night again. I miss you most when I thumb through all the postcards you sent me and realize I will never go to the mailbox and see your handwriting again. I miss you most when I remember I’ll never be someone’s little sister. I miss you most at night right before I fall asleep when I close my eyes and remember that when I open them again, you will still be gone.

  There’s not enough paper or ink in my pen to write it all down. It’s just that I miss everything about you. Xo Kai.

  I glance over the top of my journal, wondering what Cass is writing about her grandmother. I’m just about to ask her but the crease between her eyes tells me she is in the zone. It’s cool to be together but sometimes you just have to be alone with your thoughts and feelings. I’m okay with that.

  * * *

  The morning sun shining through the window isn’t a bad way to wake up especially because it means, well, Graham. As soon as I throw off my sheet, Cass pops out of the bathroom clad in workout tights, a racer-back tank and running shoes.

  “Run?”

  “No thanks, I’m meeting Graham later.”

  “Bring your lip balm,” she says, all singsong-like as she leaves, slamming the cabin door behind her.

  She makes a good point. His lips on mine will definitely be happening. As much as possible before I leave, I need to bank all the kisses. I start digging around for my Fresh Sugar balm in my bag and — I stop. It’s Jen’s bag, not my bag. So odd that that wasn’t my first thought when I touched it. I run my hands over the distressed leather she loved. The sun shining through our front window glints off something shiny. Intrigued, I dig deeper into the bag. When my fingers reach the object, I freeze. It may as well be a snake. I remember exactly what it is. I take it out and set it down on my pillow next to me.

  I’m not sure I want to deal with this now. But I still can’t find the lip balm. Instead, I unearth a note from my mother, written on her real-estate stationery. She must have snuck it in before she left. I read: Kai, I keep thinking we’ll find answers in the little things. I love you, Mom.

  I put Mom’s note off to the side and pick up the box again. I need to be brave. I mean, this whole thing is about being brave. I was brave enough to come here, and it was just what I needed. And who’s afraid of a Christmas gift, anyway? I stare at my sister’s handwriting on the gift card. As I hold the box in my shaking hand, I almost, almost feel my sister’s delicate hand take mine, gently urging me to open it right this second. I heed her advice, like I always have.

  Taking my Swiss Army knife off the desk, I select the longest blade next to the mini-scissors. With the precision of a surgeon I slit the Santa along the fold where the tape seals it, careful not to tear the shiny holiday paper.

  No one, I mean no one, loved Christmas like my sister and since I was her shadow, I feel the exact same way. She and I started the countdown to Christmas right after my birthday in October. We started playing Christmas carols on the first of November and didn’t stop until New Year’s Day.

  Untying the brown twine that holds the card on the bright red bow, I cram the card inscribed To Kai. Love You, JJ inside the outer pocket of the backpack. The long tan gift box is from Blue Windows, an artsy jewelry store on a side street near the beach, next door to my favorite vintage-T-shirt store. Inside, on a bed of red tissue paper, is the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen, a sterling-silver chain with a circular medallion. Hammered in the middle are the words: A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.

  I’ve gotta tell Graham about this.

  Meet up now? K

  Definitely. At our place writing my letter to Justin.

  Our place.

  Be there in ten. Xo K

  I slip a David Bowie tank top over my head.

  Can’t wait. So many xo’s G

  The response flusters me in all the best ways. I cradle the necklace safely in my hand, leaving the confines of Cabin Two. I bob and weave around a cluster of gigantic rocks. Tromping through the woods, I’m careful not to drop the precious gift that was last held by my sister’s loving hands. I can just picture her in the store mulling it over like she did with everything she bought. Trying it on to see how it looked. Checking herself out from every angle. Lining it up next to other choices. Jen loved choices in condiments, accessories and life.

  She took such care selecting things for people she loved.

  I know she chose this saying for a reason. Her fixation on quotes, in books, in letters: every single word counted. I think about the journey. I wish I knew where the fuck it was going to take me. And Jen, well, she didn’t even bother to finish her journey. Maybe mine will be enough for both of us. It’s a new thought to go with my necklace.

  Graham is lost in thought when I arrive, drinking a can of Coke, with Justin’s hat tucked tightly over his ears. One thing about the woods, you can’t exactly surprise someone. The crunching of the dead leaves and the Oh shit when you turn your ankle on a pinecone give you away.

  He twists around and flashes the grin I’ve fallen hard for. “Hey you.”

  “Hey yourself. How’s the writing coming along?” I lean down and kiss him, acting like I’ve done it a million times before.

  “Can I read you what I’ve got so far?” he asks.

  I plop down next to him, knee to knee, setting my hand on his leg, hoping he feels my love. “Of course.”

  Clenching the piece of paper so tightly I pray he doesn’t tear it, he breathes in the crisp air and reads:

  “‘Dear Justin. Bro, I am so sorry I wasn’t there to help you get out of the car. I wish it were me instead of you. You’d know how to work this all out. Navigate all this aftermath. My truth is that I don’t know how to be me without you. Growing up, I looked up to you. I followed your lead on everything and that worked for me. This doesn’t. It’s all so fucking unfair. I know we never really said it but I hope you know how much I loved you.’”

  His long eyelashes flutter, batting away the tears.

  “‘I counted on you every day. On the field and off. I’m gonna see if Coach will let me wear your number next season. I promise you I’ll spend the rest of my life making you proud of me. Your brother always, Graham.’”

  He buries his beanie-wearing head into my chest and lets out all that has been bottled up since day one. He was so closed off and apathetic. Now the guy I’m holding is open and compassionate. He needed this camp as much as I did.

  Graham lifts himself off my lap, rubbing his face dry with the bottom of his West Hills Academy Lacrosse T-shirt. The vu
lnerability on his face reminds me of everything I love about this guy. We’re on this journey together.

  “Is that okay?”

  “It’s beautiful, Graham.”

  “I’m going to leave it on his headstone for him when I get home.”

  I lean in and graze his cheek with my lips. “He would love it and be so proud of you for facing this down.”

  For a few brief moments, we stay still, taking in the beauty around us. His hand finds my hand, which is still clutching the necklace.

  “What’s this?”

  “Jen left wrapped Christmas gifts for each one of us in her closet. My parents found them when they were packing up her apartment. I’ve had it here since we arrived at camp, but I only opened it today.”

  “That’s intense,” he says, securing his arm around my waist.

  “When she picked this out for me, her mind was already made up,” I say. Somehow that idea is hitting home right now. She never wavered. Truly, there was nothing we could have done.

  Now I’m the one getting teary. “She bought our Christmas gifts early since she never planned on celebrating another holiday. She really did want to die.”

  Graham gently takes the necklace from me and reaches, his hand lightly touching my skin, to fasten it around my neck. The charm falls perfectly between my collarbones.

  “‘A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step,’” he reads. His face twists. “Let’s be honest, that first step might suck, but Jen’s right. It’s really about the journey.”

  “Profound, right?” I say.

  “Light-at-the-end-of-the-dark-tunnel profound,” he points out.

  “I’m grateful that you’re part of the journey.”

  “Same.” He rubs his finger on the charm, then takes my face in his sturdy hands. “I’m glad I’m the one walking right beside you.”

  Chapter 23

  Nearing the finish line brings with it a plethora of emotions and anxieties. What is unfolding in front of me is level-ten ridiculous. It’s picture day at grief camp. I really have grown to love this place but they’ve taken things one step too far. This isn’t fucking yearbook.