The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

by Cheyanne Young

  I know I’m talking too much, but now that I’ve started, it’s impossible to stop. Even when I finish telling him something, the look in his eyes makes me want to keep going. So I do.

  I tell him about the time when we were fourteen and Sasha got a new camcorder and we decided to film our own horror movie in her backyard.

  “We wrote the script to have three girls get lost in the woods, which was really just Sasha’s backyard. But since there were only two of us, we stuffed a pair of pants and a hoodie with towels and set the fake body in a chair. We’d only show glimpses of the third girl, who we named Jennifer, and when she talked, it was really just me talking in a really high voice.”

  I do the voice and he laughs.

  “So I’m holding the camera as we walk through the woods at night, because it’s like a first-person camera view horror film, right? And I say something like, ‘I’m so scared! We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and there’s nothing at all, no civilization, nothing,’ and right then, her dad comes out of the back door and yells, ‘Girls, here’s that flashlight y’all wanted!’ and we were like ‘SHUT UP!’”

  I’m laughing so hard at this memory that I lean forward, covering my mouth with my hands. Elijah laughs, too, shaking his head. “I want to see this movie.”

  I nod and take deep breaths to regain my composure. “Yeah, totally. I have a copy on my computer. Hey, speaking of …” I heft my backpack onto the bench between us. Crickets chirping in the dark break the silence as I unzip it and pull out my laptop. “My letter told me to bring this. I wonder why?”

  His eyes widen. “I completely forgot,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “Sasha knows I don’t have my own computer and could only email her through the library or sometimes at work, so I wondered why she would give me this.”

  He holds up a flash drive. The sight of it knocks a sobering knot of reality back into my chest. This whole night wasn’t just a fun social call. It’s Sasha, speaking from beyond the grave.

  I take the flash drive and shove it into my computer. “Let’s see what she left for us.”

  Chapter Six

  The moon hangs over the lake, lighting up the water rippling gently with a passing breeze. Decorative lampposts straight from Narnia dot the cemetery at random places, but other than that, we’re in the dark. Elijah’s black T-shirt and dark hair make his face look like a shadowy phantom next to me, and it’s only now I realize how late it is.

  I check the time on my phone; we’ve talked for over four hours. “Technically, the cemetery is closed now,” I say, opening my laptop.

  “Shit, are we locked in?” He looks behind us, the tendons in his neck straining.

  “Nah. There aren’t any gates. The sign at the front just says it closes at sundown but it’s not like they can lock us in.”

  “No groundskeeper here to shoo us off?”

  I glance at him just as the computer powers up, blasting both of us in the blue-green glow of my wallpaper. I’ve spent four hours with this guy and I don’t know much about him besides his name and relation to my best friend.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Austin.” His lips slide to the side of his mouth. “In the shady part.”

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s forty miles away.”

  I type in my password and my desktop appears.

  “Yes, it is,” he says all matter-of-fact. “You spend your whole life living just a few miles away from your own flesh and blood and don’t even know it.”

  “Actually, I meant that’s kind of far.” I chew on my lip. I’ve had my license for two years and haven’t driven as far as Austin yet. “Did you drive here?” My car was the only car in the lot when I arrived.

  “My motorcycle is somewhere out there,” he says, throwing his hand toward the east where it’s too dark to see anything. “I came from the highway.”

  “Motorcycle. That’s exactly like Sasha. She would have loved that.”

  “She did,” he says, sliding closer to me on the bench, watching as I double-click to open the folder for the flash drive. “I told her about it and she said she’d love to take a ride on it but — well, we never met up. I might have pushed too hard to meet her at first,” he says as tiny lines appear in his forehead. He shakes his head. “I was just excited. I had a sister and I wanted to meet her. But she was always kind of … distant about it.”

  “That’s probably because of the cancer,” I say. There’s only one file on the flash drive, a video labeled Hello. It was saved there on April 3rd. “April? That’s almost five months ago.”

  “That’s shortly after we started emailing,” Elijah says. He leans even closer and I can smell his soap, or maybe it’s his shampoo. Citrusy and clean.

  It kills me to think that Sasha had this big secret for so many months. I saw her every day. We talked all the time. She never even hinted about it. How could she have kept something this monumental from her best friend?

  Elijah nudges my arm. I look over and flinch, not expecting him to be so close to me. Our legs are practically touching on the bench, and his elbow, resting on the back of it, is just millimeters from my shoulder.

  “You okay?” he says, his eyes narrowed in concern as he looks me over. “I’m not trying to push you, but I’m dying to know what’s on the video.”

  If Sasha kept something from me, she had her reasons. Right?

  I double-click the video icon and it opens, full screen. Sasha’s face appears right in the middle of it. I gasp as a sob lodges in my throat.

  “Oh my God,” I breathe. Sasha’s hair is all stringy, looking like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, but really that’s just how bedhead on cancer treatment looks. She’s wearing makeup, but her eyes are a little swollen. Her Zombie Radio shirt hangs loosely on her thinner frame. This was filmed back when things were still okay. We could hang out and eat junk food and stay up all night. She still got sick a lot, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as in her final weeks.

  “Hey, Rocki,” she says, breaking into a grin. Chills prickle up my spine. Her eyes flicker to the right, my left, and she dips her head a little. “Hey, Elijah.”

  Now he flinches. She looks over to the left and shrugs. “Or maybe you’re over here? Hell, I don’t know. You’re watching this on Rocki’s computer, so I know she’s” — she holds up her hands parallel in front of her, like a flight attendant — “right here.” She smiles again and this time it reaches her eyes. Tears fill mine. Elijah’s arm is around the back of the bench now, and he grabs my shoulder and doesn’t let go.

  “So,” Sasha says, her chest inflating as she sits back a little. I can tell she’s on her bed, her computer probably on her lap while she records this. There’s a slight bit of golden fur to the right where Sunny is curled up. “By now, you two have met and probably talked, and you’re watching this together.”

  She glances down at her hands, blinks a couple times and then looks back at us. “I guess I owe both of you an apology. Rocki, I’m not going to tell you about Elijah while I’m still alive. I just can’t, okay? We met online when I was searching for my birth parents — who my real parents don’t want me searching for — and, well, I already know I won’t let him meet me when I’m alive.” She glances back to the right, directly at Elijah. “I’ll explain why in a minute, I swear. But Rocki, you can’t know about this until after, okay? I can barely handle the news myself and I don’t want to make things complicated. Because frankly, I think you’d encourage me to tell my parents about Elijah, and I can’t do that.”

  I let out a sardonic laugh. “She’s right,” I say, filling the silence of Sasha’s short pause.

  She glances at her hands again and then back at us, probably trying to decide what to say next. I look over at Elijah, his eyes reflecting the computer screen. They’re watery and blue and beautiful. They flit to me, and we watch each other for the smallest moment. Then Sasha tal
ks again.

  “Elijah, my brother, I’m sorry I didn’t meet you earlier. I’m sorry I kept my distance and only emailed you.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m dying, Elijah. There’s going to be people crying at my funeral, people hurt because I’m gone. If I meet you now, you’ll be one of those people.”

  The pain in her eyes while she says these words cracks the dam that’s holding back my tears. I blink and they fall down my cheeks, the sensation so familiar it’s almost comforting.

  “I can’t hurt another person, Elijah. I can’t have one more person crushed. I’ve already hurt my parents, my best friend and so many others. I’m sorry. Please understand. Please know that I am so grateful to have found you before I died.”

  Elijah’s grip on my shoulder tightens, his other hand wiping at his eyes. I lean my head against his arm, hoping the gesture comforts him, even just a little bit. On the screen, Sasha continues.

  “So here’s the deal. Elijah, you’ll love Rocki. She’s good people. And she’s also stuck with you for a while, but something tells me she won’t mind … I mean, you’re pretty cute, after all.” At this, she leans forward and winks at the screen, at me, and my cheeks flush. God, Sasha! He probably has a girlfriend! I laugh and sob at the same time, and even Elijah chuckles.

  “She doesn’t have much of a filter,” he mumbles.

  Sasha sits back up. “So here’s the deal. I’ve got my best friend and my brother, arguably the two best people on the planet, and I’m speaking to you both from beyond the grave. Why, you might ask?” She lowers her gaze and makes this mischievous smile, and it’s like she’s staring right into my soul. “This is my last wish: I want Elijah to know me, the real me.” She grimaces. “Not the cancer-ridden, dying girl that I am now. I want him to know what my life was like, what shaped me into a person. If all of this mess had never happened, we would have still found each other, and I would have told him all these things myself. Instead, Raquel, I’m letting you take the reins. In the next few days and weeks, you’ll both hear from me again. I have planned adventures, all of them are things or places or somethings — I’m not going to spoil it now — and each will show you a piece of my soul, a part of who I am. Don’t worry about how you’ll hear from me — I have some people helping me. They have your addresses and they’ll get to you. They’ve promised to stay anonymous, so don’t even try finding them, or you’ll ruin the magic, okay?”

  Elijah and I share another look. A warmth spreads through my chest at the idea of hearing from Sasha again. Judging by the spark in his eyes, I’d say he feels the same.

  On my computer, Sasha continues. “I only have a couple of rules. One: no telling my parents. I’m serious, Rocki. Not a word. Actually, don’t tell anyone. This is a small town and word travels.” She points to the screen with two fingers and narrows her eyes. “I’m serious.”

  After a beat, she grins. “Rule number two: I want you to do everything together. Rocki can fill in the gaps and tell you more things that I can’t. Don’t hold anything back, Rocki. You can tell him the embarrassing parts of my life, he’s my brother after all. He deserves to know.”

  She looks down and pulls her lips under her teeth. Beside me, Elijah has become so still I’m not sure he’s even breathing. I don’t want to take my eyes off Sasha for long enough to find out. Several moments pass, nothing but the sound of crickets and buzzing gnats in the cool summer air. I can see her breathing, so I know the video didn’t freeze. Finally, she looks up with tears in her eyes.

  “I’m a hopeless romantic. A book nerd. I’m outspoken when someone does something stupid, and I’ve dragged Rocki on quite a few adventures. Some of them were fun, some were a waste of time. Telling you these things just gives you the facts. It doesn’t let you feel or truly know me. So this project, it’ll be my legacy for you both. One final adventure, from beyond the grave, and you two will live it out for me, okay?”

  Sunny looks up at her and she rests a thin hand on top of his head. “I don’t know how the afterlife works, but I’ll try to be there with you guys every step of the way.”

  She blinks rapidly and then looks right at me again, her eyes red with tears that I never saw in real life. “This is important to me, Elijah. I can’t change the past, but maybe I can change the future. Your future. I know I promised to help you and then I died, but don’t give up on your dreams, brother. Raquel knows all about college. She can help you finish what we started.”

  Just when I think she’s finished talking, she says, “I’m not even dead yet, and I miss you so much, Rocki. You were the best friend a person could ever have, and I love you so much.” Her voice cracks on the last word. She drops her head into her hands and sobs, the racking sound matching my own here in the real world.

  Elijah slides his arm tighter around my shoulder, reminding me that he’s here. Sasha sits back up, wipes her eyes and tries to smile. This raw moment of weakness feels so foreign coming from Sasha. She was always so strong, so freaking jubilant while we were all losing our minds with worry. I figured she was faking it, and now I know she was. On screen, she tries to smile. “I love you both. And remember: Don’t. Tell. Anyone.”

  She blinks a few times, then reaches toward the camera. And the video ends.

  Chapter Seven

  It’s not a big deal that Zack ignores me all weekend. I have monumental things going on, like the fact that my best friend has a secret biological brother, and that at any moment, I might hear from her again. The mind-blowing factor of these two things is so high it’s off the Richter scale. I can barely function all weekend, much less worry about Zack and how pissed he was that I canceled our movie date.

  It was worth it.

  So worth it.

  So why do I get a pang of something like jealousy when I see his Instagram feed filled with pictures of him and other girls at some stupid party on Saturday night?

  I should close the app — hell, I should delete the app — and go on with my life. I am now a girl with a massive secret. An exciting, life-altering secret.

  But because I’m also an idiot, I scroll through the stupid photos, the #partypeeps, #bonfire, #hotgirls photos. Ugh.

  Most of the photos could be explained away as your typical party stupidity. It’s not like Zack is lip-locked with any of the girls from school; most of them are just arms around shoulders, red plastic cups tipped to their lips, typical party poses meant to make your social media profiles look cool.

  But still.

  I skim through some of the comments, cringing when Ansley Whittaker says: Damn, last night was insane. You can out-drink all of us.

  Beneath it, Zack has replied: you know it babe with a wink-face emoji.

  Babe is what he calls me, his on-again, off-again girlfriend. Seeing it used for another girl is the knife that severs our relationship. There’s no way Zack and I will ever get back together, not after how careless he’s been about Sasha dying. This is a breakup, there’s no doubt about it. Probably the tenth time we’ve ended this relationship. I should be hurting, crying, ripping up the photo of us from sophomore year that’s taped to my vanity mirror.

  Instead I’m just … free.

  It hurts, it does, but there are bigger things in the world. There is a full life ahead of me, one that Sasha wanted me to live without a guy like Zack, who would only hold me back. So instead of crying over my ruined relationship, I spend almost all of Sunday night lying awake in bed, feeling giddy and nervous and other things I can’t decipher.

  By Monday morning, even Mom thinks something’s off, but I dismiss her worries by claiming that I’m still bummed over missing Sasha. It makes me feel awful, using her death as an excuse to conceal secrets and lies from my parents, but Sasha is the one who put me here in the first place.

  Don’t tell anyone.

  Why? I’ve played the scenario over in my head a million times. Mr. and Mrs. Cade, Sasha had a biological brother
and they reconnected right before she died. Wouldn’t they be happy about this? Surely they would. I just have to trust that Sasha knows what she’s doing.

  Knew, I remind myself. She knew what she was doing. Elijah let me make a copy of the video on my computer, and I’ve played it more times than I checked Instagram this weekend. Seeing her alive and joyful in the video makes my heart sing. With the promise of more from her in the coming days and weeks, I can almost pretend she’s not dead at all. That maybe she’s holed up in some hotel room, sending Elijah and me on an adventure while she watches from the sidelines.

  Seeing her face never fails to make me smile. I study the computer screen, memorizing the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles, the slight quirk of her eyebrow as she’s talking about something that makes her really excited. Why didn’t we make more home movies when she was alive? My phone is filled with photos of us: goofy, serious, trying fancy hairstyles on each other, but there are hardly any videos.

  My greatest fear is that I’ll start to forget the lilt in her voice, the way she crinkled her nose every time she took a sip of coffee because she actually thought it was gross but loved the coffee buzz. The way she’d hold a throw pillow close to her chest, biting her bottom lip while we watched the good part in a romantic movie.

  I couldn’t live with myself if I forgot those things. Monday after school, I rush through my pre-cal homework, then I power up my computer and watch the video again.

  ***

  Zack doesn’t talk to me on Monday or Tuesday, and by Wednesday morning, the anxiety that he might find me in the hallways doesn’t even bother to manifest anymore. Zack seems like old news now, since I spend every waking second either missing Sasha or checking my email and the mailbox, hoping to get another message from her. I mourn, I obsess.