The Best Week That Never Happened

by Dallas Woodburn

  “Oh, Kai. I’m so sorry. You’re the most important person to me. You’ve always been that person.” I lick my lips and taste salt, as if I am part of the ocean. “Did I tell you the first thing I did, after I boarded the train? I pulled out my phone to text you. I didn’t send it because I didn’t know what to say.”

  “I can’t tell you how many times I almost texted you,” Kai says. “I would write out a message but then delete it. Everything I wrote sounded stupid.”

  “You could never be stupid. I love you.” The words slip out, effortlessly, like three fish slipping from a stream into the big, wide ocean. Like an ancient sea turtle returning home.

  I see the words in Kai’s eyes before he says them. “I love you, Tegan Rossi.”

  Then his lips are on mine, and his hands are holding me, and my hands are grabbing his shirt, and my cheeks are wet with fresh tears. I love you, I think. I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s so completely simple and obvious—so completely right—that I don’t know how I was able to ignore it for so long.

  Kai kisses my earlobe. “I love you,” he whispers. “God, it feels good to say that.”

  I kiss his chin. “I love you.”

  “God, it feels amazing to hear you say that.”

  “And to think, you almost let me go.”

  He links his arms around my back. “But I obviously didn’t do a very good job of it. Because by some magic, you ended up here.”

  “Here with you.”

  “Here with me.”

  I lean my forehead against his, and we stay like that for a little while. When we pull apart, the pained resignation in Kai’s eyes breaks my heart. Part of me wants him to keep questioning, keep arguing, keep searching for a way out of this bittersweet, dead-end reality. But a larger part of me knows that denial will only waste time. And we have precious little time left together.

  “Do you think it hurts?” I ask softly. “To die?”

  Kai kisses my hair. “No. I don’t think it hurts. I think it will be … calm.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I hope so.”

  “When we had to put our old dog Makana to sleep, he was in a lot of pain. But in that moment when he crossed over, he looked at peace.”

  Will I ever feel at peace? Will I ever accept this fate? It seems impossible.

  We pick our way back across the loose rock and the smooth floor of hardened lava. As we step out of the lava tubes and into the slanting afternoon sunlight, I can’t explain it, but a single thought fills my consciousness. Clear and unmistakable. It’s all going to be okay.

  Which doesn’t make any sense, because things are definitely not going to be okay. I died, and in four days I will be gone from even this liminal existence, and it’s not fair. My life wasn’t supposed to end like this. I had so much more living to do.

  But the thought persists, resounding through my brain. The voice, while not my own, is familiar. It’s all going to be okay.

  I don’t understand how these words can possibly be true, but I cling to them all the same. Just as I will cling to every last second I am given of this existence. Just as I cling to Kai’s hand as we walk back up the dirt path toward the golf course. The plastic bottle filled with cigarette butts dangles from his other hand, bumping a rhythm against his leg. Okay, okay, okay, okay. It’s all going to be okay.

  Later that night, before bed, I pull out my phone. Even though I know what to expect, I call my mom. The phone rings and rings and rings. I call my dad. The same. I call Andrea and Mel. The hollow, steady ringing fills my ears.

  I let myself fall backward onto the bed and close my eyes. In my mind, I picture each person one by one. Goodbye, Andrea. Goodbye, Mel. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye-for-now.

  Last of all, I picture my mom’s face. Her serious eyes. Her small, straight nose that I inherited. Her childlike smile when something catches her off guard and delights her. I love you, Mom, I think. But I can’t bring myself to say goodbye to her yet.

  hi t,

  i’m sure you’re not surprised that i had another dream about you last night. we visited an elderly couple who lived in my grandpa’s house, and they told us you had died. this will sound trippy, but they were us. you and me, sixty years into the future. they went by different names, but they were clearly us. i would know your smile anywhere. even as an old lady, your smile is the same. dazzling.

  anyway, they said we should focus on enjoying the time we had left together, in the dream. but i was shaking my head. no, no, no. i didn’t believe you were dead. i mean, you were too real. you were right there, next to me.

  and when I woke up, the feeling persisted. i grabbed my phone and checked your Instagram. there was an update from your mom, writing from the hospital, asking for prayers. the doctors originally declared you brain-dead, but now one neurologist has said there might be signs of life. you’re still in a coma. but there’s a sliver of hope.

  c’mon, t. you’re a fighter. you can do this.

  i don’t want to settle for dreams about you. i want the real thing.

  please wake up, t. please. please.

  let’s become that old couple in sixty years. let this dream be a premonition.

  —kai

  THURSDAY

  Darkness. Deep, pillowy darkness. Like being underwater, so far down below the surface that no light reaches you. A steady beeping. Voices. Where am I? I try to move my arms, but I can’t—

  “Tegan! Tegan, it’s all right.”

  I open my eyes to find Kai gently shaking me awake, his features etched with concern. Sunlight is streaming cheerfully through his bedroom window. I’m wrapped up in the covers like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I am flooded with such joy to see him that, for a flicker of a moment, I forget everything that happened yesterday. Everything we learned. But then, of course, it all comes back. The heavy stone returns to my gut.

  We both tried valiantly to stay up all night, not wanting to miss a second of our remaining time together. But at some point, we must have drifted off. And I actually think it’s good that we did. I’ve never done well on little sleep, and I don’t want to pass through my final days like a bleary-eyed robot on autopilot. I want to feel fresh and awake, able to soak in everything fully. Plus, there’s something necessary about the oblivion of sleep. Both of us need a break from the constant pressure of the ticking-down clock.

  “You were shaking and making noises,” Kai says, wrapping his arms around the bedcovers and me. “Were you having a nightmare?”

  “Yeah, I was. Thanks for waking me up.” I kiss his nose. “Sorry if I was a cover-hog last night.”

  He touches my hair, my cheek. “I don’t mind.”

  “So you’re saying I was a cover-hog?”

  “Oh, most definitely. You have mastered the tuck-and-roll.”

  “The what?”

  “The tuck-and-roll. It’s your signature move. Here, let me demonstrate.” Kai tucks the covers around his body with his arms. Then, he rolls to the side away from me. The covers slide with him.

  “See?” he asks, rolling back to face me. “Very effective.”

  “I’m sorry!” I laugh, and he does too, and it feels so good to be like this. Normal. Us.

  But then Kai breaks the mood. “So,” he says, “do you still want to go to Akaka Falls today?”

  I frown. “Kai, I thought we agreed that we’re not going to waste the time we have left looking for clues that don’t exist. I thought—”

  He holds up a hand. “You’re right, you’re right. I don’t want to look for clues. But do you still want to go to Akaka Falls, just to see it?”

  “Oh.” I feel relieved. “Yes. In that case, I would love to go there.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  But neither of us moves. Lying here like this, the warm covers cocooned around us and the bright sunlight streaming in through the window, my face inches away from my favorite f
ace in the universe … this feels like the closest thing to Heaven that I can imagine. I wonder, despite what Okalani and Keone said, if maybe this is it. This week, here in Hawaii with Kai—maybe this is all I get. Maybe this is Heaven. Maybe after the clock strikes midnight on Sunday, and the last grain of sand falls through the hourglass, everything will simply melt away to nothing, and it will all be over.

  “Whatcha thinking?” Kai asks, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead.

  I shake my thoughts away and smile. “How happy I am to be here with you,” I say. If this is it—if this is all the Heaven I get—I’m going to soak up every last drop of it. I’ll make this week enough to last a lifetime.

  On the nightstand, Kai’s cell phone buzzes, and he untangles his arm from the covers to reach for it. The framed photo of me is upright again, my laughter aimed directly at his pillow. I imagine this photo of me, living on for months and years after I’m gone, and suddenly that heavy rock is back in my gut. Actually it’s not a rock anymore—it’s molten lava, throbbing. I kick my way out of the covers and sit up.

  “Slow down, slow down,” Kai says into the phone. He glances at me with a worried expression—Mom? Is that my mom on the phone? I force myself not to grab it out of his hand. I raise my eyebrows in a question.

  “It’s Theo,” he says to me. My disappointment is sharp, even though I didn’t really think it was my mom. I’m in some other world, outside of regular time and space, and logically I understand that I’m never going to be able to talk to my mom or my dad or anyone back home again. I need to inwardly say my goodbyes and face reality. Still, there’s a stubborn little part of me, tucked away deep in my heart, that refuses to give up hope.

  “Okay,” Kai says into the phone. “Okay, just sit tight.”

  He hangs up, setting the phone down on his nightstand. He runs a hand over his face. When he looks at me again, he seems much older than he did five minutes ago. Weary, even though he just woke up.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, even though the answer is clearly no.

  “Theo’s in trouble.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know much. He was making a delivery. Something went wrong.”

  I pull my hair back into a ponytail and slip out of bed. “We need to go to him.”

  “But this is your last week, T! Our remaining time is precious. Theo can figure it out on his own.”

  “Kai, I know you. You would do anything for your brothers, and Theo needs you. If I weren’t here, you would already be out the door on your way to him.”

  Kai sighs. “You’re right. But what about Akaka Falls? What about our plans for the day? I don’t want to let you down.”

  “Of course you’re not letting me down! This isn’t your fault. Life happens. Besides, we wouldn’t enjoy doing anything else. We’d be too worried about Theo the entire time.”

  Kai reaches over and gently pulls me down onto the bed beside him. He looks me right in the eyes. “Tegan, are you sure about this? This is supposed to be your Best Week. We only have four days left. I doubt you imagined rescuing my dumb brother as part of your week.”

  “Don’t you get it, babe? It doesn’t matter what we’re doing,” I tell him. “It’s that we’re doing it together. My Best Week could be anything, as long as I’m with you.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re driving away from the house into another beautiful summer morning.

  “I’m gonna kill Theo,” Kai mutters, hands clenched on the wheel. “How many times have I warned him about those guys? But he never listens.”

  “Maybe he’ll listen now,” I venture, reaching across the center console and resting my hand on Kai’s thigh. “You’re a good brother.”

  Kai shakes his head. “I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to protect him.”

  “You couldn’t protect him forever. Eventually, he needed to get out in the world and make his own mistakes. You can’t protect him from everything, Kai.”

  He sighs. “I know. But right now—” His brow furrows as if he is in physical pain. He stares off at the road before us. “Right now, I feel like I can’t protect anyone from anything.”

  We’re not only talking about Theo. I leave my hand on Kai’s leg, proof of my physicality. Of my okay-ness. My younger self might have crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. You don’t need to protect me! I don’t need protecting! But now, after all we’ve been through the past few days, I understand that what Kai is feeling has nothing to do with my ability to take care of myself and everything to do with his own grief.

  “You can’t protect someone from bad luck,” I say softly. “It was nobody’s fault. Just terrible, terrible luck.”

  He glances over and meets my eyes for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road. His right hand drops from the steering wheel and finds mine.

  “I’m here now,” I say. “I’m here with you.”

  I’m telling myself as much as Kai. He squeezes my hand. Out my window, the clouds are darkening quickly. We brace ourselves for an oncoming storm.

  I follow Kai down the paved path toward the lava tubes. When we reach the cave entrance, he continues striding forward down the gravel path, past the dark, yawning mouth of our hideout.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  Kai waves me forward. “Theo’s not at the lava tubes. He’s at the swimming hole. It’s down a little farther.”

  The swimming hole? “How come you’ve never taken me there?” I ask.

  Kai pauses for me to catch up. When I reach him, he slips his hand into mine. “It’s only a couple years old. A housing development sprung up nearby, and they built this man-made swimming hole. It’s tucked away like some big secret, but even the tourists know about it.” His tone is disdainful.

  “Hey!” I elbow his ribs. “I’m a tourist!”

  “Naw, you’re different. You’re a local by association.”

  “Well, thanks.” I don’t really feel like a local. But I don’t quite feel like a tourist either. Not this visit. Not anymore.

  “So I take it you’re not a fan of the swimming hole?” I ask him.

  “The ocean is a million times better.”

  We round a bend in the path, duck under a clutch of trees, and there is the swimming hole. It is smaller than I imagined, barely larger than a hot tub. It’s made out of granite that is obviously intended to look like “natural” rock, but you can tell that the slabs have been carefully fitted together, and the rough parts have been smoothed away, so as not to hurt swimmers’ feet. Bright blue water bubbles up from some hidden fountain source. Unkempt grass grows all around, but a few spots have been conquered by large, shiny slabs of rock—prime sunbathing locations, I assume. Other than us, the place is deserted.

  “Theo!” Kai calls out. “Theo!”

  “Where could he be?” There aren’t many places to hide in this open clearing. “Theo!”

  “He told me this was where he was,” Kai says, scratching his neck. I glimpse that same half-wild look in his eyes from yesterday in the lava tubes, when he was so desperate to find a way to save me.

  I’m worried about Theo too. I call out his name again. The wind picks up, whipping my hair into my face.

  After another minute of shouting and pacing, the trees behind us rustle, and Theo emerges. I gasp at the sight of him. His nose is crusted with blood, and one eye is already purple with bruising. He’s holding his left arm strangely.

  Kai rushes over to him. “Theo! What happened?”

  Theo opens his mouth to answer, but then his stoic expression evaporates, and he turns away from us. His shoulders shake. Kai wraps his arms around his brother, and Theo lets him. When I glimpse Theo’s face again, it is like he has morphed into a little boy, tears running rivers down his cheeks.

  “It’s okay,” Kai says. “It’s okay. Let’s get you home, buddy.”

  Theo talks the entire drive back to the house, explaining how he slipped out earl
y this morning to deliver some marijuana. “It was a normal drop,” he insists. “Really, not a big deal.” Kai raises his eyebrows but doesn’t interrupt. Theo goes on, explaining that when he got to the swimming hole, three guys jumped him and stole his stash. They left him shaken, but not too beaten up. That came later, after he called his boss and told him what had happened. “I assumed he’d be understanding,” Theo says, wiping his nose and wincing. “I mean, I thought he was my friend, you know?” But his boss made Theo pay for the money he’d lost out on. Left him in the overgrown grass by the swimming hole, curled up in the fetal position as if still trying to protect his head from the blows.

  “I didn’t know what else to do but call you,” Theo says.

  “I’m glad you did,” Kai replies. “It was the right thing to do.”

  A few raindrops splatter against the windshield, and Kai turns the wipers on. We lapse into silence, gazing out at the ominous clouds. The wipers swish back and forth, like twin dancers. Soon, the raindrops become steady streams of water, and the wipers’ dance becomes more fast-paced, frantic.

  “We have to tell Mom and Dad, you know,” Kai murmurs quietly.

  At first I think that Theo didn’t hear him. But after a few moments, he bites his lip. Nods. “I know,” he says. His voice sounds almost relieved.

  The rest of the day we spend quietly indoors, avoiding the storm. Kai’s parents are at work, and Paulo is at soccer camp all day, and Kai and I are reluctant to leave Theo by himself.

  “Are you sure, T?” Kai asks. “I feel terrible. This is so not how I imagined us spending the day.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t want to abandon Theo after what happened. Besides, it’s raining buckets out there. It wouldn’t have been a good day to hike Akaka Falls anyway.”

  “But there are so many other things we could be doing … ”

  I stop him with a kiss. “This is exactly where I want to be.”