She kisses me quickly and then I hear her run out of the room.
Her footsteps are slower when she returns and it takes every ounce of self-control not to peek.
After shuffling around for a minute, she sits next to me on the bed and takes my hand in both of hers. “Okay. Open them.”
If the laptop is the most generous gift I’ve ever received, this is the most thoughtful—probably the most thoughtful, most meaningful gift I’ll ever receive in my life.
A large framed piece of art that Jordyn had somehow managed to keep hidden from me leans against the dresser.
All five pictures of my mom have been blown up and converted into black-and-white and placed throughout the canvas, with beautiful watercolors of mountains overlapping them and a remarkable pencil-drawn resemblance of Captain. It’s absolutely perfect.
I’m completely and utterly speechless.
Jordyn climbs onto my lap and I hold on to her, burying myself in her jasmine hair. She adjusts herself so her lips can reach mine. We kiss gently and then more deeply until I feel like not kissing her would be like dying, like I would flatline without her kisses to shock me back to life.
There is absolutely no doubt that this is it. This is good-bye.
THIRTY-NINE
She doesn’t stay with me that night. I heard her crying as she left the room early this morning. I could’ve stopped her, I know it, but it was too much for me too. My heart is heavy when I wake up to the realization that that was the last time I will ever be with her, will ever touch her, will ever make love to her.
When I head toward the kitchen, I see that her bedroom door is still closed. I wonder if she plans to avoid a good-bye like Kelly and Henry have. God, I hope not. But by the time I’ve finished eating breakfast, and washing the dishes, and loading the remaining items into my car, and she hasn’t emerged, I understand that that’s exactly what she plans to do.
My heart breaks. I don’t have any right to be angry with her. I’m the one leaving after all, but I thought I’d get to say good-bye. One last kiss. Some parting words. I don’t know. Something.
The computer and her beautiful gift are the last things I load, and then I head back to the house for Captain. At least he won’t cheat me out of a good-bye.
I plop down on the living room floor and he immediately throws himself on my lap. His tail is wagging and he’s licking my face, completely oblivious that this is the last time he’ll see me for a very long time, maybe ever. I’ll try to come back for him as soon as I’m able to get a place that allows dogs, but who knows when that’ll be. Hopefully next year. And even then, maybe he’d be better off with someone like Kelly, who’ll actually have the time to give him the attention he deserves. I can’t think about logistics right now.
I hug my dog to me and he whines in excitement. “I really wish I could take you with me, buddy.”
He licks at my chin, lapping up a few stray tears.
After a good fifteen minutes, I finally pull myself up. It’s time.
As I pass the basement stairs, I pause. I could just go down and force her to see me. I take two steps down the stairs and then I stop myself. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s like ripping off a bandage. I hesitate for a second longer. Then I turn back up the stairs. I hug Captain one more time. “You take care of these amazing people, Captain. You’ll have a wonderful life here. I love you, you crazy dog.” I kiss the top of his head and then I head for the door.
When I reach the driveway, I hear the front door fly open. I’ve barely managed to turn around when Jordyn throws herself at me. I gather her up. She holds me tighter, her hands gripping my shirt.
We stay like that for god knows how long—however long it is, it’s not long enough. When we finally pull apart, I try to speak. “Jordyn, you are the best thing that’s ever happened—” My voice breaks and I fight to regain my composure. “I can’t thank you enough. For everything.”
She cranes her neck until her lips meet mine. And there’s so much in that one kiss.
She buries her face in my shirt again, her shoulders shaking. When she looks up, it’s like she’s memorizing me. I’m doing the same, running my fingers over her eyelids, her eyebrows, her lips, her jaw, memorizing everything about her.
Then I lean down and kiss her one last time. It’s slow and lingering and filled with . . . everything. And this time when we break apart, it’s for good. I step back and she drops her hands to her sides. I take another step away, memorizing the slope of her shoulders and the elegance of her stance. And another, memorizing the exact black of her hair, with just a hint of blue when the sun hits it the right way. And another, memorizing every detail of her face, from the shape of her eyebrows to the golden brown of her eyes to the perfect almost-pout of her lips. Until I reach the car door. And then I pause one more minute before I get in. A small smile manages to spread across that perfect mouth, and she raises her hand to wave.
“I love you,” I say.
“I know.”
Then I get in the car and back down the driveway. She follows me all the way to the street. Captain must’ve pushed his way out the door, because he has now joined her in the driveway. I shift the car into drive and offer them one last wave. And then I hit the gas.
It takes everything in me, but I don’t look back. I can’t. Not after everything.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am forever indebted to all the many people who helped shape this story into a book.
Writers dream about working with a rock star dream agent, and you, Laura Bradford, are the kindest, smartest rock star dream agent a writer could hope for. Thank you so much for believing in me. I absolutely treasure your guidance and advice. And a big thanks to Taryn Fagerness, my foreign rights agent. Wow, do I have an amazing team.
Jessica Garrison, what can I say? You made this whole experience beyond awesome. I couldn’t have been matched with a better editor. I swear you’re in my head. Your suggestions were exactly what I meant to write in the first place. Without your brilliant insight this book wouldn’t be what it is.
Nancy Conescu, I can’t thank you enough for making all of this happen. Your edits started me in the right direction and I was so sad to see you go, but you left me in excellent hands with Jess. I hope Australia is treating you well.
And I’d like to thank everyone else at Dial and the Penguin Group who helped make my dreams come true, especially my copy editor Regina Castillo for her keen eye, and Jessie Sayward Bright, who’s responsible for this awesome cover.
To all my Fearless Fifteeners: How would I have made it through these past two years without you guys? Especially my fellow Fearless Angelinos: Mary McCoy, Charlotte Huang, Nicola Yoon, and honorary members Nicole Maggi, Kerry Kletter, and Anna Shinoda!
Amazing critique partners are precious commodities. Thank you, Andrea Hannah, for juggling writing, teaching, and kids, and still having time to give me amazing notes. You’re a superstar!
Big thanks to the Studio City Fiction Writers Group people who gave me invaluable notes way back when this book was just a baby manuscript. Beth Shady, Amy Ball, Jim Sullivan, Eric Dzinski, Ari Jarvis, and Jess Place, you made me love Mondays. And an especially big thanks to Lindsay Champion for starting the group in the first place, and remaining an awesome critique partner after moving across the country!
I have some seriously amazing friends. Jessica Brody (my unofficial mentor), Jennifer Bosworth, and Gretchen McNeill, your sage advice has kept me sane. Thanks for holding my hand through this crazy journey. Kristen Keller, you’ve been my biggest cheerleader for twenty-plus years. You are the reason I discovered my love of YA. Here’s to many more years of book discussions! Sara Docksey, Kristen may have introduced me to YA, but you certainly helped fan the flame. And Elisha Gruer, who also happens to be the best casting partner in the world, your encouragement means the world to me.
I hav
e to thank my family again. Mom and Dad, you don’t know how grateful I am that you always encouraged creativity. I wouldn’t be who I am without that. I love you guys. Billie, the best niece in the whole world, thanks for always keeping my spirits up. I love you so much. You’re not allowed to read this book for a few more years, though. Seriously. Why are you still reading this? And to Audrey Jilka and Craig Rosenbaum: Thank you for blessing me with creative genes.
And finally, a special, huge thank you to Michael Levy. Without an oversharing (sometimes past the point of awkward) brother like you, I would never have been able to write like a dude. Love you!
Michelle Levy (michellelevybooks.com) hails from Denver, Colorado, and now lives in Los Angeles, California, where she works as a casting director for film and television on projects such as Six Feet Under, Deadwood, Bruce Almighty, and more.
Not After Everything is her debut novel. Follow her on Twitter @m_levy.
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