about the court’s decision,
Madison was right there,
making me brownies,
trying to cheer me up.
People always say
chocolate makes
everything
better.
I say friends make everything better.
Six months ago
Dear Amber,
We have stopped writing for the past three months, as you requested. But obviously, we couldn’t, and didn’t, drop the case. And we are terribly sorry you are upset. It hurts us, but we understand.
We realize you are a very smart young woman, but the fact of the matter is, you’re still a child and we’re sure you can’t quite grasp the concept of what this all means, now or for the future.
Again, as we’ve said all along, we are family. It’s only right that we know each other, rely on each other, and love each other.
We are thinking about you now that the verdict has come down from the judge. We are happy knowing that soon you’ll come here to share your life with us. You have so many people here who are anxious to meet you—grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins! It’s going to be wonderful, just wait and see.
Your parents have asked us to give you some time to come to terms with the court’s decision. They seem to think this will be better for you in the long run. So we are granting them the first turn of shared custody. They will get their six months, and then we will get ours. We look forward to seeing you in March!
Much love,
Jeanie and Allen
extraordinary
“He’s cute,” Madison says
as she gnaws on what’s left
of her thumbnail.
“I know.
He’s cool, too.
He writes songs
and he loves movies—”
Then I stop because
I don’t need to give
my best friend
a Cade commercial.
If I’m sold,
she’s sold.
“How’d you meet?”
“We were both in awe of the jellyfish,” I say.
Like it’s the most ordinary way
to meet someone.
Nothing ordinary about it.
Nothing ordinary about this day.
Mostly, nothing ordinary about Cade.
Some friendly insight
He goes into
a fishing supply store.
We sit across the street.
Watching.
Waiting.
Madison throws
question after question at me,
and I shoot back
short answers,
too distracted to say
anything more.
I am focused
on the front door.
“Wow, this is bad,” she says.
I whip around to look at her.
“What? What’s bad?”
“You’ve fallen for him, cat.”
“What?” I laugh.
“He’s my friend.
I mean, we only met eight hours ago.”
“I’ve known you a long time, A.
I’ve never seen you like this.”
I turn back to the window.
Watching.
Waiting.
Wrestling
with the idea that my best friend is right.
me and him
So, I care.
I care about his love of the beach.
I love it too.
I care about his songwriting.
I want to know more.
I care about the boy
who watched the sharks
and wished for confidence like that.
I understand.
I care about the fact
that’s he’s hurting,
even if I don’t know why.
I want to help him.
That’s why I’m here,
wanting to know what he’s doing.
He’s like me.
I want to know more.
I understand.
I want to help him.
And I care. A lot.
dark thoughts
Cade cradles
a black ball
in both hands
and carries it
to his car.
The way he walks,
the way he holds it,
I know it’s heavy.
Like a cannonball.
But Cade’s not a pirate
so it can’t be a cannonball.
Can it?
He carries one.
A staff person
follows with another.
Why?
Why are they carrying
heavy round weights
to his car?
Have you seen that movie?
Master and Commander?
Hollom grabs a cannonball
and jumps into the ocean.
He’s so distraught,
he doesn’t want to live anymore.
I know.
Oh my God, I know.
our day
Jellies and sea stars,
sharks and rays.
A day of wonder,
of magic, no fright.
Warm sun on skin,
sweet taffy on tongues.
A day of exchanges,
of finding delight.
Ghost in the lighthouse,
tunes in the car.
A day of adventure,
of seeking the light.
Castle on sand,
kite on a string.
A day of discovery,
of reaching new heights.
A day
that must not,
cannot,
end in any kind
of terrible
way.
Six months ago
Dear Mom,
Remember when I was like ten years old and I wrote you all kinds of notes after I learned about sex because I was too afraid to ask you the questions to your face?
Now I’m afraid to admit—I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do this.
How do I leave everything I know, everything I love, everything I am, to go and live with them?
It’s like a nightmare and I can’t wake up. I don’t know what to do. Please tell me, what do I do?
Love you,
Amber
caught
Madison and I
don’t exchange words.
She knows I’m scared
as I eat my fill of
strawberry,
lemon,
popcorn, and
cotton candy
jelly beans.
She drives,
staying close
but keeping her distance,
so he won’t notice
and try to lose us.
We follow him to the marina,
where fishing boats bob
to the smooth jazz
of the sea.
She grabs a parking spot
and I tell her to stay there,
sounding much stronger
than I feel.
He hauls one of the
lead weights onto a dock.
I follow him,
the smell of fish
rising up to greet me.
Before I know it,
he’s stepped onto a boat.
Indecision grips me.
Do I go to him?
Do I hang back and watch?
He might be pissed
I followed him.
And yet
I don’t want
the unthinkable
to happen either.
In the act of
weighing my options,
precious seconds tick by,
and I don’t have to choose
because he chooses for me.
He’s there,
off the boat
and back on the dock,
looking at me.
“Cade, I was worried.”
“I said I’d call you.”
I flinch as the sharp
words come at me.
“I know, but—”
“Amber, I have to tell you,
I don’t like stalkers.
I mean, this is not cool.”
I swallow and nod.
“Stay here,” he orders.
The sun is setting
in the distance.
I wish we were on
the beach,
watching,
playing,
laughing
like we were before.
I close my eyes and wish.
Please remember how we were before.
He comes back
carrying the other weight
he’d left in the car.
He takes a deep breath,
looks at the boat for a second,
then looks back at me.
This time,
his words are softer.
“All right.
Follow me.”
a good son
Black letters
on the hull say
THE GAL.
She looks much older
than the ones around her.
Smaller, too.
I step up and over,
onto the boat,
and watch as
Cade puts the lead weight
next to the other one,
near a big net.
“We lost a couple of these
last time we were out,” he says.
“I was supposed to replace them
after our last trip.”
“What are they for?”
“They keep the lines deep.
That’s where the fish are.”
Relief washes over me.
They’re for fishing.
Not for drowning.
“Is this your dad’s boat?”
“Yeah.
He’s a commercial fisherman.”
The wind has picked up,
and I wrap my arms
around myself, trying
to stay warm.
Cade doesn’t seem to notice.
He’s scanning the boat,
like he’s lost something.
He steps past me,
and I want so much
to touch him,
to feel we’re connected again.
But I wait,
because if drumming
has taught me anything,
it’s that timing
is everything.
“Come on,” he finally says.
“Let’s go eat.
You must be starving.”
But I don’t move,
because there’s something
more going on here.
“Can I meet your dad?”
He looks at me,
but the falling darkness
provides him
with a mask.
“No,” he replies softly.
“Not today.”
I guess that’s
the only hint
I’m going to get.
together again
Back on the street,
Madison stands by her car,
the sun now tucked in tight,
the moon rising, ready
to take watch over our world.
I hug her and say good-bye.
No explanation necessary.
She knows this
is where I need to be.
Back in his Beetle,
a dozen questions
circle my mind like vultures.
I can’t let them move in
on this moment though.
It’s not time.
Now is the time
to let him know
he is safe with me.
That we can have fun
and be friends,
and it can be enough.
I’ll make it be enough.
unnecessary
I get my words ready.
I want to tell him
I won’t push him anymore.
That whatever’s going on,
it’s his business,
and whether he wants to tell me or not,
it doesn’t matter, we can still
be friends.
Being a friend means
knowing when to push
and knowing when to pull back.
I’d forgotten that.
I get my words ready,
mixing them up and around,
wanting to say just
the right thing.
But while I’m
preparing,
sorting,
organizing,
stressing,
he speaks.
“I’ll tell you, Amber.
I will tell you.
Just not now.”
He reaches over for
my hand. Holds it there,
on my leg. My heart
skips a beat, and I give
his hand a little squeeze
as I put all of my
carefully selected words
away.
that’s more like it
A pink lobster
glows neon
in the window.
Because it’s dark,
I can’t make out
the name of the place.
He leads me in,
waves at the guy
behind the register,
and takes me
to a booth in the corner.
It’s obvious
he knows this place.
It’s more than just somewhere
to get something to eat.
I look behind me
and see a bar
and pool tables.
We’re underage,
but, obviously,
for reasons I don’t understand,
it doesn’t matter.
“So, no Chinese food?”
“Nope.”
And that’s all he says.
This boy likes to keep me guessing.
The waiter comes over,
says, “Hey, Cade,”
and asks if it’ll be the usual.
“Yeah,” he says.
“But two this time.”
He knows what he wants.
No flipping coins.
I tell him I need to use the
restroom, so he gets up
and leads me to the back
where there are two doors,
one with a GONE FISHING sign
and one with a GONE SHOPPING sign.
“I hate shopping,” I tell him.
“You can go in with me if you want.”
Is he flirting with me?
Damn, I hope so.
piling it on
As I wash my hands,
I stare in the mirror,
thinking about this
weird and wonderful day.
It didn’t turn out
like I thought it would.
Nothing ever does.
The good news is
I’ve hardly thought about
tomorrow at all.
The bad news is
I’ve now added new worries
to the pile that’s so high,
it feels like it could topple over
at any moment.
Cade???
Why the hell are you here?
What can I do to help you?
Please, there must be something?
Will I ever see you again?
What if I don’t like my new family?
What if my new family doesn’t like me?
What if my real family doesn’t miss me?
What if my real family even likes having me gone?
Wish I could demolish it
the way Cade destroyed
that sand castle.
If only it were that
> easy.
hints of truth
My phone rings.
It’s my sister.
She yells at me,
says Mom and Dad
had a horrible day,
that I’m being selfish
and I should come home tonight
and not make them wait
until tomorrow.
I’m so tired of her yelling.
It’s all she does lately,
going on about how
I’m not the only one
affected by the verdict.
But what the hell am I supposed to do?
I can barely keep it together myself;
how am I supposed to help her?
Help my parents?
Help my friends?
I can’t.
“Kelly, don’t yell at me!
I needed to do this today.
I needed one day to myself.
Whatever I say, you’re not going
to understand, but—”
“They think you’re not coming back.”
Her voice shakes as she says it.
“What? Why—”
“They think you don’t want to go,
so you’ve run away.
And they feel bad, like they didn’t
fight hard enough.”
“I’m coming back.”
But I say it like there’s sand in my throat.
“You took your sticks.”
“Yeah. So?”
“You took them, just in case.
Maybe you left, thinking you’d come back.
But admit it, Amber.
It’s crossed your mind.
Not coming back.”
The Day Before Page 7