Even though my mind doesn’t want to believe what all of these things point to, my soul recognizes the truth.
“This is not the news you were hoping for,” Keone says gently. “But you must try to delight in these days as best you can. This week is a gift to you, Tegan, from the universe.”
She captures my gaze and holds it. Her eyes are filled with such raw emotion, such kindness and empathy and understanding, that it is almost as if she knows exactly how it feels to be me in this moment. Unbidden, a memory surfaces. I’m four or five years old, bending over a dead bird at the park. I poke it with a stick, and then I start to cry when I realize it’s dead. My grandma is there. She hugs me and smooths my hair. Together, we pick flowers and sprinkle them over the lifeless bird. “Let us pay tribute,” Nonna says, “to the beautiful life of this beautiful creature, who spread its wings and soared and now has returned to where it came from.” I am uplifted, even though I am too young to articulate the feeling—and even though I am still sad the bird had died.
I break Keone’s gaze, and the memory recedes. Tears roll down my cheeks as I am flooded with somber acceptance. It is almost a relief, to shift from not knowing to fully knowing. Maybe Keone is right; maybe this is a gift. A painful gift, but a gift all the same. To be able to spend time with Kai like this. To taste what could have been—what should have been.
I risk a glance at Kai. His face is a stone statue. His eyes are hard obsidian.
He catches me looking at him and abruptly stands from his cushion on the floor. “C’mon, Tegan,” he says, and his voice is gruff. “We should go. We’ve heard all we need to.” He nods at Okalani and Keone. “Thank you both for your time.”
I rise uncertainly from the cushion. Do we need to rush off like this? But Keone and Okalani are standing as well. Our visit appears to be over. As Kai and I follow them back through the house, I rack my brain for any other questions I want to ask.
I keep returning to the same one.
In the doorway, I grab Keone’s wrinkled hand. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? To fix this?” More tears spring to my eyes. “I really don’t want to die.”
Her eyes are oceans of compassion. “I know, my child. And I am not certain of anything. Life is a mystery, just as death is a mystery. The best answers come from listening to the murmurs of your heart. Your heart is wise. Your heart is strong. Let yourself love, dear one. Let yourself love, hugely and bravely. That is all any of us can do.”
Kai and I are quiet as we walk along the narrow pebbled path through the underbrush, back to where the dirt road ends, back to where his Jeep is parked. It seems like we have been gone a very long time, even though the sun is still high in the sky. We climb in, and Kai turns the Jeep around. We bump over the ruts in the dirt road, back to the main highway. I roll down my window. The breeze is fresh and clean, and I close my eyes, savoring the soft air brushing against my face.
Kai breaks the silence. “So, do you want to head to the clinic now, or should we get lunch first? Are you starving?”
I cross my arms. “We’re not going to the clinic. There’s no reason to go there.”
“You promised to get checked out.”
“Only if we didn’t find any answers. But Okalani and Keone gave us answers. I believe them. I sense in my gut that what they told us is true.”
“It’s not true, Tegan! It’s completely ridiculous. So what are you—a ghost? A zombie? Should I be worried that you’re going to eat my brains?”
“This isn’t a joke, Kai. It’s real. You know I’m not a zombie or a ghost. I’m alive—for the rest of this week, at least.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Why not? We have to accept the truth. This is the Best Week of My Life, and I’m getting to live it now.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. How can you be alive if you—” He clears his throat. “How can you be alive like this, if you were in the train accident?”
“It’s like Schrödinger’s cat paradox. Remember, when we talked about it that night in the lava tubes?”
“Yeah, I remember. But I didn’t understand that trippy cat riddle back then, and I still don’t get it.”
I shift in my seat, turning to face him more fully. “Until you open the box, the cat is both alive and dead at the same time. Until you answer the phone and hear the results, you both have cancer and you don’t have cancer. Until Sunday, I’m both alive and—”
Kai interrupts me. “So you’re willing to bet your life on what those random old people said?”
“They didn’t seem random to me. I think we were guided to that house for a reason. Something about them was so … familiar.”
Kai’s hands clench the steering wheel. He doesn’t respond.
“The clinic would be a waste of time,” I add. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, Tegan.”
I try to smile. “I mean, I’m fine other than being technically dead.”
Wordlessly, Kai pulls over to the shoulder of the road. It seems we’re destined to have deep conversations inside this Jeep. I think back to yesterday, driving home after eating shave ice, when I told Kai to pull over and we talked about the art show and Nadia and his friends. That seems like a million years ago.
Kai looks over at me, and his eyes are not hard obsidian any longer. His eyes are filled with life, scared and pleading. “Don’t say that, Tegan.”
I swallow. “But it’s true. I died.”
Suddenly, Kai punches the steering wheel. I flinch. I’ve never seen him hit anything before.
“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face in his hands. He’s breathing hard. I can’t tell if he’s going to cry or scream. Tentatively, I reach over and place my palm on his back. I can feel the warmth of his skin through his T-shirt.
“I’m grateful for this time with you,” I murmur. “I’m grateful for every moment with you. That’s what I’m choosing to focus on. Aren’t you happy that the Best Week of My Entire Life is with you?”
Kai raises his head and looks at me. Tears pool in his eyes. “Of course I am. I treasure every moment with you. These past few days together have been amazing. But they aren’t enough. One week isn’t nearly enough.”
“I know. I feel the same way. But our only option—”
“No. There must be something we can do.” Kai takes my hand. “How about this? We don’t have to go to the clinic right now. But let’s go to Akaka Falls.”
“Now?”
“Tomorrow. It’s a two-hour drive, and it’s already past noon, so it makes the most sense to wait. I’m thinking we get an early start and head there first thing in the morning.”
“That sounds good to me.” I don’t really care what we do—I just want us to feel normal again. I want to pretend that this week is the beginning of something, instead of the end.
“We can spend all day there,” Kai continues. “Looking for clues.”
Wait … what? “Clues?” I repeat.
“Yeah—clues, signs, whatever you want to call them. Information about how to fix this. There must be a reason that Keone and Okalani put so much emphasis on Akaka Falls.”
“Kai, they were using a metaphor. They specifically said that we shouldn’t try to change what has happened. We need to accept it. I died in that train accident.”
Kai grimaces, looking down at the floor. “Please, Tegan,” he pleads. “Please let me take you to Akaka Falls tomorrow. I bet there’s something there that can help us.”
I want him to accept my fate. The sooner he does, the sooner we can focus on squeezing out the very most of the time we have left.
“Kai,” I say gently. “There’s nothing for us to find at Akaka Falls. There are no clues there. No secret portals or medicines or spells that are going to make me all better. Okalani and Keone were using a metaphor about the fish going back to where they began.”
He stares down at the steering wheel, and I’m not sure if my wo
rds are making an impact at all. But then, he looks up, and his eyes sparkle.
“Tegan, that’s it!” He leans over and kisses my hair. “You’re a genius.” He starts up the Jeep and pulls back out onto the highway.
“Um, thanks. Where are we going?”
“Back to where we began. Back to our place.”
The lava tubes. Of course he would want to go there.
He smiles his sly Kai smile, and I can’t even be frustrated with him. Maybe he needs to work through this denial at his own pace.
“Okay.” I sigh. “But can we stop on the way there and get lunch?”
Over a lunch of grilled fish tacos, the mood between us shifts. Kai and I both make an effort to talk about everything except what we’ve learned in the past few hours. We’re emotionally wrung out. We want to focus on the silly surface stuff—inside jokes, random memories, childhood stories we’ve already shared with each other a dozen times. I’m thankful, because I don’t know if I can handle any more deep talks at the moment. I want easy and familiar and normal. If life were a TV show, right now I’d prefer to watch a comforting rerun of an episode I’ve already seen. I don’t want to venture into a new episode, where anything could happen—and beloved characters might be killed off.
I eat every last bite of my fresh fish tacos, trying to savor every detail of my final days here. But I don’t really taste the food. My stomach is unsettled, and I’m worried about Kai. Fear and despair lurk in his eyes. I know that searching the lava tubes for clues will be fruitless. I think, deep down, he knows it too.
We ball up our lunch wrappers, throw them into the trash can, and climb back into Kai’s Jeep. As we head down the highway, the breeze whipping my hair all around, I wonder what would happen if we just kept driving and driving and driving. I’d imagine there are worse ways to spend your last days on Earth.
Kai parks in the lot for the golf course. We follow, in reverse, my footsteps from two days ago when I chased after Theo. The same path I walked in the moonlight to meet Kai when we were fifteen. The same path his eight-year-old self raced down to get help when I needed stitches. Now, in the heat of midafternoon, the asphalt is hot beneath my sandals. Eventually, it turns to pebbled dirt. We are getting close.
Trees arch over the path, lush with foliage. I’m grateful for their shade. Everywhere, the buzzing of insects and calling of birds. The air is damp and swollen with heat. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead. We round the bend, and there it is—the entrance to our place.
Cigarette butts are scattered in the dirt, and a plastic soda bottle lounges against a hibiscus bush. Kai mutters to himself, bending down and untangling it from the flowery branches. He picks up the cigarette butts and drops them into the plastic bottle. I help him, even though cigarettes are probably the grossest things on the planet, and I hate touching them. Before long, we’ve cleaned it all up. Kai leans the bottle against the lava rock, to pick up on our way out later.
“Do you think Theo’s friends did this?” I ask, wiping my fingers on my shorts.
Kai nods. His jaw is set in a hard line. “Those guys don’t have respect for anything. I can’t believe Theo would bring them here.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss his cheek, then his lips. It is the first time we have kissed since Okalani and Keone told us the painful truth. Kai’s mouth meets mine gently at first, as if he is afraid to break me. But soon we are kissing urgently, ravenously, like we can’t get enough of each other and time is running out. Which, of course, it is. Time is slipping through our fingers, and this knowledge only makes me want more of him. It feels so good to kiss Kai. He can’t protect me from fate … yet I still feel safe in his arms.
When we eventually break apart, my hair has come free of its braid, and Kai’s shirt is rumpled. His cheeks are flushed, and I’m sure mine are too. His eyes are alight with new hope.
“C’mon!” he says, grabbing my hand.
Entering the lava tubes is like crossing the threshold from day into evening. Kai uses the flashlight app on his phone to scan the shadows as we venture into the dim, cool cavern.
“What are you looking for?” I whisper. I don’t need to whisper, but something about the atmosphere of the lava tubes makes whispering feel appropriate.
“I’m not sure, exactly,” Kai says. “I’ll know it when I see it.”
Before long, my eyes adjust to the dimness. As Kai sweeps the walls with his flashlight, I release his hand and venture deeper into the cave. Up ahead, a shaft of light filters down through an opening in the ceiling. It’s hauntingly beautiful. It reminds me of photographs of the Pantheon in Rome, which I’ve always dreamed of seeing in person. I walk toward the stream of light, my sandals slipping a little on the loose lava rock. I was planning to study abroad during college, to spend an entire summer backpacking through Europe. It’s not going to happen now. None of it.
I try my best to hide the fright away. Focusing on all that I’ve lost won’t do any good. What I do have is this moment. Right here, right now. The lava tubes. Kai. This is the gift I have been given. I reach my arm forward, into the dusky beam of light. My skin is striped with daytime and shadow.
I think about when I first woke up here a few days ago. I was so groggy and confused, like I was half-asleep. When Theo had stepped into this shaft of light, he’d looked like an actor standing onstage in a spotlight.
Now, I let myself imagine what things might be like at the end of the week, when I move on from this place. I definitely don’t believe in Hell, and I’m not sure if I believe in Heaven either. But maybe there is some sort of afterlife, and I’ll get to see my grandma again. Maybe I will look down on those still alive, and it will be like when I first saw Theo step into this spotlight. Maybe the afterlife will be like watching actors bumble around onstage, making their way through the drama of being human, and I will care what happens to them but in the detached way you care about characters in a movie or a book. When it doesn’t quite seem real.
I hug myself, feeling my stomach move as I breathe in and out. I place a palm on my chest and feel the steady beating of my heart. I stand on my tiptoes. I clench and unclench the muscles in my legs. My animal body. Its vivid realness. I don’t want to ever forget what this is like. The aching, exuberant, messy beauty of being human.
I step fully into the beam of light, tilting back my head. High above, there is a round hole in the ceiling of the lava tubes, and through it I glimpse a perfect circle of blue sky.
I close my eyes. I try to imagine what’s next, but all I’m met with is blank openness.
When I open my eyes, I sense that someone is watching me. I look over, and in the shadows I can perceive Kai, standing a few feet away. I leave the shaft of light and walk toward him. When I reach him, my chest constricts. Tears are running down his face. He doesn’t even bother wiping them away.
“I knew it when I saw it,” he says.
I reach up and wipe his cheeks with my fingers. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for here—but I had this overwhelming sense that I would know it when I saw it. And that’s what happened. When I saw you—standing there, surrounded by that beautiful light—it was like you were already outside of this world, Tegan. You were already away from here and entering the next place. And in that moment, I knew. I really knew.”
He hugs me, and I nestle my face against his warm neck.
“I’m going to miss you,” he says. “I’m going to miss you so much.” His voice breaks, and then he’s sobbing, and I am too. All the tears I’ve been trying to rein in since this morning break through, a dam being flooded. We clutch at each other, our shoulders shaking and our sobs hiccupping, in the frantic unrestrained way you cry as a child when you can’t catch your breath.
Eventually, we run out of tears. I’m not sure how much time has passed. Kai wipes his face with his T-shirt. “I keep thinking about the last time we talked—before this week,
I mean,” he says. “I was such a jerk to you.”
“What do you mean, ‘the last time we talked’? Our argument?”
Kai nods. “You called and told me you weren’t coming to visit after all, and I got so upset … ” He punches his fist into his palm. “I want to go back and shake myself. Why was I being such a stubborn asshole? Why did I try to push you away?”
I grab his hand, bring it up to my lips and kiss his palm. “You weren’t the jerk, Kai. I was. I can’t believe I canceled on you like that, at the last minute. I was just … scared.”
“I know,” he says. “You think I wasn’t?”
“You were scared?”
“Of course. I mean, yeah, I’ve had a massive crush on you forever. Ever since that night we met up here, when I tried to kiss you, and you turned me down.”
We’ve never talked about this before. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize. Our actual first kiss was much better.” He smiles. “But yeah, I was worried—that things would be awkward between us, that you wouldn’t have a good time, that your purely platonic feelings for me would be readily apparent and I would have to pack up my hopes into a box and shove them under my bed forever. Move on, as my friends kept telling me to do. Let you go.”
It’s painful to hear him say these words. Painful to think of how close I came to losing him, this—us.
“Is that what you did?” I ask in a small voice. “After our fight? Did you let me go?”
Kai sighs. “I tried to, T. I really tried. You seemed so cold on the phone—so aloof. Like I didn’t matter to you all that much.”
The Best Week That Never Happened Page 13