I bound up the steps and push the door open to my room.
It’s a mess, like always. My mattress lies on the floor, covered in a million pillows and blankets. String lights hang across an entire wall, making my room glow with a warm golden hue. Pinned to the string of the lights are Polaroid photos. I still have aways to go to fill it all up, it’s a work in progress, but it brings me joy to see all the different happy moments I’ve captured. There are some not happy ones there as well, but I like to be reminded of how far I’ve come. How no matter what’s been thrown at me, I’m still standing tall.
I change quickly into another pair of shorts and a loose tank top, then check my appearance in the floor-length mirror behind my door.
My hair’s a wild mess and looks like it hasn’t been brushed—even though it has. My eyes are wide, and my cheeks flushed, making my freckles even more prominent. I have a love/hate relationship with my freckles. Some days I love them and think they’re cute, other days I think they look like mud streaked across my face.
“Willa! Are you done yet?” Harlow yells up the steps.
“Yeah, yeah,” I chant, grabbing my purse and slinging the strap across my body before reaching for my car keys on my dresser.
I stumble down the steps and find Harlow waiting by the front door.
“I’m starving now,” she whines. “Let’s grab a bite to eat and then get ice cream.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then my stomach decides to rumble.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Food first.”
As if conjured by our words, our giant golden retriever Perry bounds into the foyer.
“No, Perry, no food for you. Stay here.”
“We could take him with us,” Harlow suggests.
“The last time we did that he tried to eat a bird.”
“He’s a puppy. He doesn’t know any better.”
“Sometimes you make me sound like such an annoying, boring mother.”
“Uh … because that’s what you act like.” She laughs and runs down the hall for Perry’s leash.
The nice thing about living in Santa Monica is you can take your dog pretty much anywhere.
She returns with the leash and Perry sits, tongue hanging out, waiting for her to put it on him.
Once it’s clasped I unlock the door and we head to my car—a mint colored Chevrolet Spark. It’s small, the perfect size for me, and a gift from my parents. I didn’t want them to spend their hard-earned money on a brand-new car for me, but they insisted so it became my birthday and graduation present.
It’s come in handy having my own car; I definitely get out more than before.
Perry climbs in the back, leaning between the two front seats, panting like he’s been outside for an hour already. He’s barely a year old and gets overly excited about everything.
“Would you want to go to Monsterwiches?” I ask Harlow.
The sandwich shop a couple of miles away is a favorite for locals. Not many tourists know about it, which makes it a nice place to hang out. When tourists start clogging up a place the locals usually clear out.
“Yeah, that’s good with me.” She clicks her seatbelt into place then proceeds to place her feet on the dashboard and turn the volume on the radio up to a deafening level. I turn it down to a more sensible level and she scoffs. “You’re such a fun sucker.”
“Yep, that’s me. Willa the fun sucker. Tell Mom and Dad to put that on my tombstone for me, m’kay?” I start to back out of the driveway.
“Willa,” she gasps, genuinely offended. “Don’t even joke about that kind of thing.”
I put the car into drive, heading down the street. “I’m sorry.”
Sometimes, I forget that I’m weirdly comfortable with my inevitable death. When you come close to dying it’s not that scary anymore, it seems easier, more peaceful than this living part. But I’m sure for my sister, who was twelve at the time, the experience was traumatizing.
“I don’t want to think about a world in which you don’t exist. You’re my sister. My best friend.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
I glance at her quickly with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere, not for a long time,” I vow. “This may have tried to knock me down, but I’m stronger than it.”
I’m stronger because of it.
She smiles softly, emotion flooding her eyes. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
Her words squeeze my heart. It’s nice to hear them.
She turns the radio up again, and this time I don’t change it.
The music quiets the chaos of my mind, as backward as that sounds.
We reach the sandwich shop and I park in the tiny side lot—seriously, there are only three parking spaces, which are frequently fought over since this place is popular.
“I’ll go get our food—you take care of Perry.”
Before I can protest, my sister is gone, and I’m left with the demon dog.
Not that he’s mean, he’s … a little nuts.
Perry looks at me, tongue hanging out, with this doofus look like he’s saying, “What are you talking about? I’m adorable. I’m a good boy. Me so cute.”
“All right, Perry,” I sigh. “Let’s do this thing.”
I get out of the car, tucking the keys in my pocket and slinging my purse across my body so I don’t have to worry about it falling off my shoulder while trying to wrangle the dog.
I close the door and quickly open the back door. Perry tries to dart out, but I quickly grab his collar and then the leash. Bumping the door shut with my butt, I lock it and return the keys to my pocket.
“Come on, Pear.”
We start through the small parking lot and onto the sidewalk. Monsterwiches has around ten tables set up outside, with the majority of them taken. It looks like everyone in Santa Monica has decided to come here and eat outside at the exact same time.
Perry jerks on his leash, and I tighten my grip.
“No, Perry!” I scold.
But Perry doesn’t give a flying shit what I have to say to him.
He jerks again. This time, his leash goes flying out of my hand, and Perry goes running down the street.
“Perry!” I scream, running after the dog, disaster scenarios of him being run over playing out in my mind—as well as my sister’s eventual murder when I kill her for leaving me with the dog.
People watch me run after him but do nothing to help—I can’t help but think there’s probably someone sitting back videotaping this to post on social media instead of helping me.
“Perry,” I shout after the dog.
He doesn’t care. He’s doing what he wants.
He turns the corner and I run faster, nearly tripping as I turn after him.
“Oompf.”
I skid to a halt, wincing as I see Perry collide with a guy walking out of Cool Beans coffee shop. The guy’s iced coffee drops to the ground, splattering all over his worn sneakers, legs, and the sidewalk.
“I am so, so, so sorry.” I hesitantly approach him. Perry licks at the coffee on the ground like this was his plan all along.
The guy looks down at the coffee, my dog, and finally, me.
I stop in front of him and suddenly feel very small. He towers over me, at least a foot taller. He’s big, too, wide shoulders but a narrow waist, and the way his shirt hugs his chest I can see every indent of his abs. Around here, fit people are the norm, but there’s something about this guy that I can’t take my eyes off of. It’s not just his looks, it’s this aura he has. He hasn’t even opened his mouth and I’m enraptured.
“It’s not a big deal,” he finally speaks, shielding his eyes from the sun. I notice they’re a startling green color, bright against his tanned skin. His brown hair is cut short and there’s a light dusting of stubble on his chin like he forgot to shave this morning. “I didn’t really want the coffee much anyway.” He smiles, and I suddenly understand why girls my age lose their minds over guys. My stomach flips and I can’t seem to tell what’s ri
ght side up anymore.
“He’s still a puppy,” I explain, not wanting to stand there staring at this guy like a creep. He looks older than me, probably twenty, I’m sure to him I look like a little kid.
He grabs the leash and holds it out to me. “Might want to grab him before you lose him again.”
Color floods my cheeks as I reach for the leash. My fingers brush his and my heart skips the beat. It’s like all my years of lack of hormones have combusted to this one moment and now I’m drowning in them.
“Right, thank you.” I wrap the leash around my hand. “I’m really sorry—can I buy you another coffee?” I offer, feeling bad that Perry has destroyed his drink.
He shakes his head. “I really shouldn’t be having one anyway. If I drink that now” —he nods down at the mess— “I won’t go to sleep until five in the morning.”
I laugh, but it sounds forced and not at all like my natural laugh. I’m nervous, and I’m being weird.
Get it together, Willa. He’s only a guy.
“Well, um, thanks for … catching my dog.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and that’s when I notice one of his ears is pierced. A slender silver hoop rests in his left ear. I’ve always been irked by guys with pierced ears, but this guy pulls it off.
“I don’t know, I think maybe he caught me,” he says when he stops laughing.
I blush again. “Right …,” I pause. “Well, thanks again.” I wave awkwardly and start back down the street.
When I reach the end, I can’t help but turn and look behind me.
The guy is still watching me, and when he sees me looking he smiles wide, not at all bothered by me catching him.
I wish I had his confidence. If it’d been the other way around I would’ve quickly averted my gaze.
“There you are!” Harlow’s voice startles me. She’s holding two wrapped sandwiches with two water bottles dangling precariously between her fingers. “What happened to you?”
“Perry got loose,” I explain, walking up to her.
She sighs and glares down at the dog. “Bad Perry.”
Perry wags his tail and sticks his tongue out. “He looks really torn up about his bad behavior,” I joke.
We grab a table and I tie Perry’s leash to my chair—if he runs this time, he’s taking me with him.
“He needs to go to obedience school,” I grumble as Harlow hands me my sandwich. I unwrap it and my mouth waters.
“Aw.” She pets his head. “He’s not that bad. Plus, he’s still a baby.”
“You’re going to be saying he’s a baby when he’s ten.”
She giggles. “Probably.”
My phone vibrates in my bag, and I quickly grab it in case it’s my mom telling me something important.
Instead, it’s a text from Meredith.
Merebitch: Hoe r u home?
Me: Out with H.
Merebitch: Rly? Where?
Me: Monsterwiches.
Merebitch: I’m 2 blocks away. I’m coming over. Don’t fucking leave before I get there.
Me: Wouldn’t dream of it.
“Who’s that?” Harlow asks. “It’s not Mom complaining about me forgetting to do the laundry again, right? I mean, she knows I forget it on purpose all the time, so why does she keep bitching about it? She tells me to do it. I tell her I forgot. Wash, rinse, repeat—without the actual washing part, of course.”
I snort. “No, it was Mere.”
“Should I go get her something?” she asks, wiping her hands on a napkin.
“Yeah probably, or else she’ll steal our food.”
Harlow snaps her fingers. “I’ll be back then. Just make sure Perry doesn’t try to eat my food.”
“I should let him,” I call after her as she heads into Monsterwiches.
I take a bite of my sandwich while Perry looks at me with pleading eyes. I steal a piece of overhanging turkey from Harlow’s sandwich and give it to him. What she doesn’t know won’t kill her.
After another bite, I pull my binders from my purse. In the beginning it was weird having to take medicine every time I ate, but now it’s second nature.
“Heeeeey,” Meredith calls, running down the street with shopping bags flopping in her hands. She honestly looks like she’s trying to use them to take flight.
She reaches me and collapses into the chair beside me. Her bags drop to the ground and she lets out a breath that stirs her vibrant red bangs. “Shopping with my mom should be an Olympic sport. I was in school until noon, but from then until now we’ve managed to hit up ten different stores, and you know how long my mom takes in each of them. The good news is, I have five new pairs of shoes and an entirely new wardrobe. I swear my mom sits around thinks to herself what can I spend money on today that I don’t need? Like, seriously. She’s got a problem. Hey, can I have some of that?” She ends her breathless tirade to point to my water. I hand it over and she uncaps it, drinking it down like she hasn’t had any water all day.
Harlow comes out with Mere’s sandwich and a new water. She sees Meredith with my water and hands me the new one without question.
“Hungry?” she asks Meredith.
“Not really, but I’ll take it anyway.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and Harlow places the wrapped sandwich on the table, the two of us exchanging a look.
Meredith is super tall and super thin to boot but the girl eats like a college football player preparing to hibernate for the winter. She hates her knobby knees and long legs, but they’re her so I think they’re perfect.
I take a bite of my sandwich and notice Meredith has already devoured almost half of hers. I’m not even shocked anymore. I’ve learned over the many years of knowing her that she can eat more in one sitting than an entire football team combined.
“Are you guys going home after this?” she asks.
I shake my head. “This one wants ice cream.” I point at Harlow, who shrugs unapologetically.
“What can I say? Ice cream is my friend—it’s always there for me.”
“I wish I could go.” Meredith frowns. “But I have to get back to my mom. I told her I was going to the bathroom.”
I snort. “You told her you were going to the bathroom but you came here instead?”
“Well, when I texted you I was going to see if we could hang out tonight but since you were close I was like, why don’t I head over there, so that’s what I did. Don’t worry, my mom won’t notice I’m still gone for another thirty minutes.”
Harlow giggles. “I love your mom.”
“She’s one of a kind,” Meredith agrees. “You guys wanna go to the beach this weekend?” she asks.
“We go to the beach every weekend,” I remind her with a laugh.
“Well, I can’t help it. The beach has hot guys, and that’s where I gravitate. Hot guys feed my soul. I can look but I can’t touch—because you know my dad would chop my hands off and feed them to the sharks. He acts like I’m still four years old.”
I snort. “Mere, you do act like a four-year-old most of the time, I can’t blame him.”
She sighs. “You right,” she exaggerates, stuffing the last of her sandwich into her mouth. “See you this weekend.” She wipes her mouth on a napkin, grabs up her bags, and is gone with a swish of her red hair.
“Sometimes I think Meredith is a species of her own,” Harlow chortles. “I mean, seriously, I don’t know anyone else like her.”
“Me either … you know, considering she’s the only friend I have left.”
It doesn’t bother me much anymore, how my friends shied away from me after my diagnosis, but there are moments where it threatens to overwhelm me.
The reality of it all, that is.
“Fuck them,” Harlow spits.
“Harlow,” I scold. “Don’t talk like that, you’re fifteen.”
She tilts her head. “Exactly, I’m fifteen. I’ve heard worse than the word fuck. And seriously fuck them. They showed their true colors. If someone can’t ackn
owledge your illness, or be there for you, or for Christ’s sake even say hi, then they don’t deserve to stay in your life. They don’t.”
I smile. Harlow makes my heart happy. I hear horror stories about siblings, but mine couldn’t be more perfect. Yeah, we fight and disagree at times, but she’s always there for me and I’m always there for her.
“When did you get so smart?” I ask her.
She cracks a grin. “I’ve always been this smart—you’re finally starting to notice.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’ve always noticed, I just can’t go out handing you praise all the time or your head will get even bigger.”
“Ha-ha,” she intones sarcastically, throwing a piece of cucumber at me.
I finish my sandwich and roll up the paper wrapper. Perry harrumphs at my feet, clearly showing his displeasure at not being slipped a treat from my food.
“Do you ever get bored?” Harlow asks me suddenly.
“Bored?” I repeat, my eyes squished together in obvious confusion.
“Yeah, you know—you’re home alone a lot, you don’t have school anymore or a job. Don’t you get bored?”
I play with a corner of the paper wrapper sticking out from the rolled-up ball I’d turned it into. “Yeah, at times. But I have my books and the computer.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not a life, Willa. You need to be out here living.” She sweeps a hand.
“It’s not that simple.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful every day to still be here, but I know my disease holds me back. I see people doing things and being adventurous, but then I think about how tired I can get and I talk myself into staying in the house.
It’s a vicious cycle.
I want to be more present. I want to live and have fun. I want to learn to surf and go to a bonfire. I want to make more friends.
I want to do things I’ve always been afraid of, because coming close to death has taught me they’re not to be feared. A life unlived is what we should all fear.
And yet, I haven’t done any of the things I want to.
I’m grateful that dialysis allows me the ability to live, and there are lots of things I can still do while on it, I won’t deny that. What holds me back is my own fear.
But one day … One day I’m finally going to get a transplant and that kidney will not only save my life, it’ll transform it.
The Other Side of Tomorrow Page 2