The End or Something Like That
Page 16
“It’s very intellectual,” Kim said. “I think it will make me feel better.”
Mom looked at me.
“It is quite intellectual,” I said.
“And addicting.” Kim smiled. “You should ask Joe.”
So for the next three hours, we watched reruns of 1000 Ways to Die. Trish came in and didn’t say a word. Just sat down.
We watched someone die from eating too much ketchup, someone die sledding down a mountain of pancakes, someone die from the static of a microphone.
Mom kept going, “Girls, let’s change it.” Or “Oh my, is this true?” Or “What did he just say?”
Trish said, “Linda, you’re getting into this,” and Mom blushed. “No I’m not.”
We were laughing so hard. At least I was. Kim was sort of laughing but you could tell it hurt.
But still. She was laughing.
Maybe everything was going to be okay.
• 84 •
Dr. Farnsworth, Gary, advocated nature. Visitations could happen anywhere but getting back to God’s creations made crossing the veil that much simpler.
So we picked a trail that was pretty easy to hike and every time we’d been there, there were other people. Tourists or locals or climbers or bikers.
Today, with the rain, there was no one in sight.
I started up the trail. She died in eight minutes. Eight minutes. If I went hard, I could make it.
As I began to hike, the rain started to pound down.
I took deep breaths and tried to focus.
I will see you.
I can see you.
You will be there.
I didn’t bring your treats.
I didn’t bring your movie.
I didn’t bring your book.
But I brought me.
Just me.
I miss you. You are my best friend.
As I came around the corner to where our rock was in view, I froze.
There was a figure.
Someone.
She stood up when she saw me.
She waved.
My heart pumped and I waved back. I waved back and then I started walking toward her. Faster. And faster.
Soon I was running.
It was happening. This was happening. After everything else, it was finally happening.
• 85 •
If you know someone is going to die for years, for every day of every week, of every month, of every year, sometimes you don’t think it’s really going to happen.
Even if that person gets close now and then.
She may even be in the hospital and she may look really sick and the nurses may whisper in the hallways but even with all that, she won’t die.
•
She never dies.
•
She never ever ever dies.
•
Until one day, she does.
• 86 •
After a long time sitting and watching TV at the hospital, Kim got a visitor.
It was Gabby.
She stood in the doorway. Her face pale and she was trembling, holding a mug with candy in it.
I looked at my hands.
Trish was in the corner asleep.
Mom saw her. “Oh my goodness, Gabby. Come in.”
Gabby didn’t move.
Kim saw her for the first time. “Oh hey. Yeah. Come in.”
Gabby said, “Okay.”
And she sat on the edge of the couch by me.
“How are you?” she said to Kim.
“I’m good.”
“Good,” she said. “Good.”
Kim said, “Yeah.”
Then Gabby handed her the cup of chocolate, which was a stupid gift.
I sat there and watched.
“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Gabby said.
Kim shrugged and smiled. “It’s okay.”
Gabby nodded. Then she said, “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
Just like that, I’m glad you didn’t die.
Kim laughed. “I’m never going to die, right, Ems?”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I was being strangled.
“Ems?” Kim said. Gabby looked at me and I knew any minute, any second, I was going to burst.
I stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
I shook my head. Mom looked at me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I just need some air.”
Mom said something else. Or maybe it was Kim.
Or maybe even Gabby.
I don’t know because as soon as I was out of that room I started running.
I ran.
And ran
And ran.
I didn’t stop until I was down the stairs, through the lobby, and out into the heat.
And there, right there in front of the roundabout and the taxis and the people in wheelchairs, right there I sank to the cement and started to bawl.
•
Kim died three minutes after I left.
•
Kim died without me.
•
I let her die without me.
• 87 •
I got closer and the figure got bigger and then I slowed.
•
It wasn’t Kim.
•
It wasn’t Kim at all.
•
It was Skeeter.
•
I stopped in the middle of the trail.
“Hey,” he yelled.
I didn’t move.
“Emmy?”
It was Skeeter.
I didn’t understand.
But part of me felt relieved.
Why did I feel relieved?
I had let my best friend down and I was doing it again.
But then he was coming toward me. I kept walking.
Dear Kim. What does this mean? Where are you? Why aren’t you here?
And then he was standing in front of me.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
The rain still going and we were both soaked. He was wearing a Descendants T-shirt, his headphones around his neck, and he was carrying a plastic bag.
“I brought us food.”
“You brought us food?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s mostly gone.” He held it out for me to see and it was full of wrappers.
“How long have you been here?”
He wiped his face but it didn’t do much good, the water was running down.
“I’ve been here since eight.”
“Eight?”
“Eight.”
“Eight in the morning?”
“Eight in the morning.”
My heart was thumping and I didn’t even know why.
“Why?”
He shook his head. Looked at his feet and then shook his head again. Then he said, “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d be here sometime. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to, you know, miss you.”
I took a breath. He didn’t want to miss me.
“You’ve been waiting for me all day?”
He looked at me. “I guess I have.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because.”
•
Because . . .
•
“Because.” He stopped and I waited. I waited and he said, “Because.”
And then he took my face in his hands.
And I almost died. I almost died right then.
•
He to
ok my face in his hands and he did what I never thought would ever happen to me. Ever. In a million years.
•
He took my face in to his hands, the water pouring down, and he kissed me.
• 88 •
When it was over and I was shaking, he said, “I’m sorry.”
And I laughed. “You don’t have to say sorry.”
I looked at my watch. 5:48. On the dot.
I looked up at the sky.
He looked with me.
We stood there. For a minute. For more than a minute, and for the first time, in a long time, I felt free. I felt happy. I felt alive.
I knew she knew. I knew it. And she was happy, too.
“I think it’s going to be okay,” I said.
He nodded. “I think so, too.”
• 89 •
We walked down the two-lane highway toward town.
Barefoot.
And holding hands.
My whole body felt like it was on fire. I had never held hands with a boy before.
I had never seen ghosts before.
I’d never said good-bye to my friend before.
“So,” he said, “I looked up Saltair.”
I smiled. “I did, too.”
“Did you see they play shows there now?”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t see that.”
“Yeah,” he said. “They had Paramore last week. And Fun is playing in August.”
I started laughing.“Fun? Are you serious?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said. I couldn’t explain.
Then he said, “I thought we could take a road trip one day. Go see a show.”
It sounded so perfect. So real. So not me. And of course my mom would never let me go on a road trip with a boy, but I didn’t say that. Instead I said, “Yes. We should.”
And he smiled.
I smiled too.
And that was it.
• Acknowledgments •
This novel happened with the help and support of many people:
My agent, Edward Necarsulmer IV, for his enthusiasm and grace.
My editor, Nancy Conescu, for her patience and compassion for pretend people.
My father, Larry Vinson Knight, for always believing in me.
My family, all of them. Who took care of my babies and me while I worked to finish this book.
My readers, Dan Knight, Larry Knight, Katy Knight, Holly Wever, Ally Condie, Kathy Knudsen, Millie Soelberg, Megan Castagnetto, Shelby Russell, Jen White, Janessa Ransom, Carol Lynch Williams, Cheri Earl, Ann Cannon, Heather Dixon, Shar Peterson, Chris Crowe, and more for being willing to read bad bad drafts of a crazytown story.
My sweet husband, Mr. Cameron, who is always there for me.
And of course, Ms. Homeyer. RIP.