“But I was wrong, of course. So wrong! Distancing myself from you was hurt that I inflicted on myself. I was too scared of the waves, so I played in the shallow waters, which meant that I never got to feel the exhilaration of letting myself fall. Of honoring my true feelings. Of loving you in this deep and beautiful and terrifying way.”
“But you did.” Kai rubs his thumbs against mine. “This week, you did.”
“Yes. Thank god for this week. But I’ll always regret not choosing this sooner. When I think of all the time I wasted being scared and proud and hiding behind my excuses … ” I shake my head, blinking away tears of frustration. “What I’m trying to say, Kai, is that it doesn’t matter who’s right. Sometimes you need to apologize even if you think you’ve done nothing wrong. Your friends are hurting. They miss you. And I can tell you miss them too.” I lean over and kiss his cheek, scratchy with stubble. “Now I’m going to head over there, make myself a plate of cheese and crackers, and say hello. You get to decide if you want to come or not. You get to decide what you want to say to them, if anything.”
I let go of his hands, square my shoulders, and begin the long walk across the room. Chin up, head held high. I can’t tell if Kai’s friends notice me or not. Instead of looking toward them, I look around at the artwork on the walls.
Eons pass. I’m halfway across the wide wooden floor. I am the Titanic gliding through the lonely ocean. No, that’s not a good metaphor—I am not going to sink. Chin up, squared shoulders, head held high. Finally, when I’ve almost given up hope, I feel Kai’s hand slip into mine. Sweet relief courses through my veins. I glance up at him and smile. He smiles back, but I can still see a tightness there, around the edges.
When we reach the table, I grab a plate and hand it to Kai, who immediately lasers all of his attention onto the cheese display. Nadia is standing right there, on the other side of the table. Arms crossed over her chest, as if to shield herself.
“Hi,” I say to her. “Nadia, right?”
She nods.
“I thought it was you, when I bumped into you the other day. I’ve seen so many photos of you over the years.” I reach out my hand. “I’m Tegan. It’s nice to finally meet you!”
Nadia accepts my handshake. She seems taken aback by my friendliness. Good. I’ve decided the best way to handle things is to channel my dad and pretend like I have no idea there is any sort of tension happening here. It’s how Dad always handles interactions between my mom and his series of girlfriends, and while it used to annoy me, I’m beginning to think he might be onto something. My feigned obliviousness just might be the bridge that enables them to talk to each other with their pride intact. No one has to make the first move, because I’ve already bumbled my way into it.
“I loved your piece,” I tell Nadia. “The painting of the starfish? Kai told me it was yours. The colors are gorgeous. How long did it take you to paint it?”
“About four months, overall,” Nadia says. Her arms drop down to her sides. “You know, working on it here and there, after school and on weekends.”
“You’re super talented. It’s one of my favorite pieces in the show. I was drawn to it from across the room.”
She waves off my words, but her face opens up a little. Maybe she can tell I’m being sincere with my praise.
“This is a neat gallery. So you work here?” I ask.
“Yeah, I interned here last summer and stayed on through the year. Last season, I helped curate a show consisting purely of ephemera. It got a lot of interest.”
Ephemera? I have no clue what that means, but no way am I asking. Is she purposely using art lingo to make me feel out of my element?
“Kai was a huge help with that show,” she continues. “I never would have been able to pull it off without him.” She glances at Kai, but he doesn’t look up. He’s standing a few feet away from us, chomping on cubes of cheese like it’s his job.
Even though I want Kai to reconnect with his friends, I bristle at the warmth in her voice. I imagine the two of them here in the gallery, spending hour after hour together, immersed in their shared world of art. I want to bare my teeth and snap at her to stay away from my boyfriend.
But he won’t be mine for much longer. I need to prepare to let him go.
“So what’s coming up in the fall?” I ask, attempting to shift the conversation back to neutral ground. “What show is up next?”
“The next big show opens in September and features local printmakers. Chine collé, drypoint, and all that. I won’t be here in the fall, though. I’m going to California College of the Arts to study painting.” I can tell she is trying to act nonchalant, but she can’t fully hide the pride in her voice. “What about you?” she says. “Are you going to college?”
“Yep. Georgetown.”
“Wow. Where is that, again? The East Coast?” The words she’s not saying echo in my ears: Somewhere far, far away from here?
“It’s in Washington, DC.”
For the first time in our conversation, she smiles fully. “Awesome. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” My gut sinks in despair. You have no idea how far away I’ll be.
Like I suspected, Nadia is the gateway to the rest of Kai’s friends, and before long I’ve introduced myself to the whole gang: Skeeter and Kaylee and Noah. Even R.J. shakes my hand, pretending like we didn’t already meet the other night at The Blue Oasis. I guess if his sister seems cool with me, then he is too. I don’t think R.J. hates Kai either. Kai just happened to be the guy Nadia fell for, and no brother wants to see his sister get hurt.
Eventually, Kai abandons his cheese plate and wanders over to our little group. He wraps his arm around my waist, and I lean into him slightly, trying to say with my body, It’s okay. They won’t bite. I watch his friends registering this new information. Nadia chews her lip and looks down at her feet.
What was it Kai had said, that day we got shave ice? My friends liked to give me crap for being in love with this mainland girl who barely even knew I existed. I wonder if us being a couple changes their minds about anything.
“Hey, Nadia?” Kai asks. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. They walk over together to the corner of the gallery, next to a watercolor painting of a volcano spewing lava.
I half-listen to Skeeter and Noah debate the merits of the food table’s bread selection, crispy cracker versus baguette-style. I sense they are only talking to fill the space. All of us are watching Kai and Nadia, while trying to seem like we’re not actually paying them any mind. I force myself to laugh along with the others as Noah bites off a chunk of Skeeter’s baguette, spewing crumbs all over his black shirt. In the distance, Kai leans in and gives Nadia a hug. She wraps her arms around him, and my throat tightens.
Yep, it’s still there—that spark of jealousy, even though this is what I wanted to happen. Now my jealousy of Nadia stretches so much deeper. I’m jealous she gets to keep living beyond this week. I’m jealous of all the time she has left—time to make mistakes and learn from them, to take wrong turns and right them. I’m jealous of all the Sunday afternoons and silly adventures and monotonous Wednesdays she has in store, time to be bored and lazy, time to daydream and argue, time to fritter away without counting every grain of sand slipping through the hourglass. I’m jealous of Nadia, but really I’m jealous of my past self. I wish I still had that arrogant innocence—assuming that my life would keep going and going and going.
My Best Week is almost over. How long will it take for Kai to move on? How long before his memories with me begin to blur around the edges? How long before he forgets me?
Nadia will be here, waiting in the wings. She’ll be eager to help him forget.
Watching her and Kai amble back toward us—the tension is gone from his shoulders, and his manner is easy, relaxed—I wonder if his feelings for her will change into something more. When I’m no longer here, will
there be anything to stop him from falling in love with her? I mean, really, how could he not? She is beautiful, and creative, and she loves him. Yes, she still does—it is obvious from the way she is looking up at him, right now, her smile wide and hopeful. If his feelings for her changed, hers would leap up to match his in a heartbeat.
What will Kai’s Best Week be? One day, hopefully a very long time into the future, will I get to relive this week again, with him? Is my Best Week his Best Week too?
Selfishly, there is a part of me that wants it to be so. But the bigger, more generous part of me—the part of me that loves him more than I love myself—hopes that the Best Week of Kai’s Life is far into the future. I don’t want his life to peak at eighteen. He has so much more living to do. So many more magnificent adventures and fantastic surprises in store. I pray his Best Week is yet to come. Which means I am praying for it to be wholly apart from me.
Maybe it will be the week of his wedding and honeymoon. Or maybe he’ll spend the week playing with his kids. Or grandkids. Or even great-grandkids.
As I watch Kai and Nadia walk toward us, I have the sense that I am watching Kai’s future. And I want this future for him. I want him to remember me, but I don’t want him to pine for me forever. I want him to fall in love again—to have a rich, full, passionate life. Yes. I want him to end up with someone like Nadia, after I’m gone.
A bittersweet feeling wells up inside me, happy-sad tears filling my eyes. I try to blink them away, but Kai notices as he comes up and slips his arm around me again. “You okay?” he asks softly.
He is a steady anchor. I belong here, in this space between his chest and his arm. I fit here so perfectly. A Tegan-shaped space.
I nod, smile a watery smile. “I’m going to miss you, is all.”
His eyes darken with sadness—with realizing, with remembering—and I wish I hadn’t said anything. He tightens his arm around me, leans down and kisses my hair.
“You guys are cute,” Nadia says. With her words of approval, it’s like the entire group exhales and relaxes.
Skeeter leans closer to me. “We all thought you were way out of his league,” he stage-whispers, and everyone laughs.
“Yeah, Kai,” R.J. says. “How did you finally convince her to go out with you?”
Kai glances down at me. I wonder what he is going to say.
“I got her to come visit me,” he says. “I knew if Tegan came back to Hawaii, there was a good chance she would fall in love with the island. Then I just tried to be in the background of the picture so she would fall for me too. By default.”
Everyone laughs again. Their eyes shine with happiness to have Kai back within their fold. They ask where he’s taken me around the island and offer suggestions of places we should go, their voices rising with excitement.
“How long are you here?” Noah asks me.
“Just till Sunday, unfortunately.”
I focus on the solidity of the floor beneath my feet, the warmth of Kai’s skin brushing mine. Here. Now.
“A bunch of us are going on a picnic tomorrow, if you guys want to join,” Nadia says.
Kai wraps both arms around me in a bear hug. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m going to decline before Tegan can answer. I want to hog her all to myself these last few days of her trip.”
I squeeze his arm gratefully. I am greedy to soak up every last precious minute with him. Just the two of us.
“Well, next time, then,” Nadia says. She smiles at me, a real smile. If we weren’t both in love with the same guy, she seems like someone I could actually be friends with. “Maybe you and I can grab coffee, Tegan. I’d like to get to know you better.”
“I’d like that too,” I tell her. “Let’s definitely do that, next time.”
When she hugs me goodbye, I send her a silent wish: Please, be good to him. Take care of him for me.
dear t,
you were in my dream again last night. i was really glad you were there. the dream was mostly about theo—he was in trouble, and we went to rescue him. he was all beaten up by those guys he hangs with, the high school dropouts who deal drugs and think they’re tough shit. i’ve been warning theo about them for ages, but he never listens. in the dream, he was shattered. i felt so helpless. he’s my little brother, and i didn’t protect him. i didn’t keep him safe.
maybe it’s a subconscious message about you, about how i’ve been feeling so helpless just sitting here refreshing social media, waiting for a new update from your mom about how you’re doing. maybe theo in the dream was a symbol for you. i should be there with you. i feel sick that i’m not there. but what would i do? saunter into your hospital room and hold your hand? your mom barely even knows me. they’d probably kick me out.
i wish you weren’t so far away. i wish you’d just come to hawaii like we’d planned. the truth is that i’m angry, t. i’m angry at you for getting into this accident. i’m angry that you might die. i’m angry at myself for loving you all this time and not doing enough about it. i’m angry at you and me and trains and airplanes and cell phones and the whole world. i guess being angry feels better than being constantly terrified.
you can’t leave me, t. please, don’t leave me. please, keep fighting.
in the dream i made up with my friends too. because of you. even though in real life, you don’t even know about all the drama that went down with me and my friends. anyway, nadia called me today. which is a big deal—i haven’t talked to her for months. she heard about your accident and asked how i was doing. at first i was going to give some gruff, terse response and hang up, but i couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice. so we ended up talking for a while, and it was actually pretty nice. normal. like the old days. she invited me to this picnic with a bunch of my old friends tomorrow, and i think i’m gonna go.
i told my parents about theo today. about the guys he’s involved with and how he’s started selling weed. they’re grounding him for, like, ever. he’s gonna be so pissed at me. but it was the right thing to do. you were the one, in the dream, who convinced me to do it. so, thanks.
have i said this already? i love you.
—kai
PART THREE
FRIDAY
Deep, pillowy darkness. Like being underwater, so far down below the surface that no light reaches you. A steady beeping. Voices. No words, just an urgent tone. I want to help. Can’t move my body. Are my eyes closed? Can’t open them. My head splits in pain, and I—
I open my eyes. Headache. My vision is blurry, and my chest is tight. Weak morning light streams into the room, and it takes me a second to place where I am. Then I remember: Kai’s bedroom. Hawaii.
Kai.
He is breathing softly beside me, his eyelashes long and dark against his cheeks. I wish I could be around to see him grow older. I try to picture him with gray hair and wrinkles, but it’s impossible.
The worst thing about being on borrowed time is the forgetting, and then the remembering. Every morning, I wake up thinking that I still have a wide-open future waiting for me to live it. And then I remember, and the stone sinks back down into my gut, and I have to come to terms with The End all over again. So much regret. So much I would do differently, if I had the chance.
But I don’t. So there’s no point in thinking about it.
Instead, I study Kai’s face as he sleeps. He looks peaceful. What is he dreaming about? I memorize the slant of his nose and the muss of his hair, the thickness of his eyebrows and the curve of his lips. I want to be able to close my eyes and see his face for eternity.
His eyes blink open, and he catches me staring at him. We both blush.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, pulling me toward him. “You know what I could never get tired of?”
“What?” I run my fingers up the knob of his spine.
“Waking up and seeing you. I used to always roll over and reach for my phone first thing, to check for an email from you.”
“Me too
. I felt unmoored for those last few weeks, when we weren’t talking.”
“Unmoored. That’s the perfect way to describe it. How are you so good with both numbers and words?”
No, I’m not. Numbers, maybe. Not words. I haven’t been able to write my letter for you. And I’m running out of time.
Kai nuzzles his face into my shoulder. “It feels so cozy, here with you.”
I kiss his hair. “Wanna go back to sleep?” Maybe I can slip out and try to work on his letter.
But Kai flings off the covers dramatically. “No, the Hulk has risen! We have so much to do today!” He leaps out of bed and flexes one arm, then the other. I laugh, reaching out and touching his bicep.
“I still don’t know when you got these muscles,” I say. “Where was I?”
“You were too busy trying to keep me in the friend zone.”
I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his palm. “I wish my friends from home could see what a hot boyfriend I snagged.”
Kai raises one eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh?”
I drop his hand. My cheeks grow warm. “Well, um, I thought—is that okay?”
“Are you kidding me?” He smiles. “Of course it’s okay. I’m thrilled to be your boyfriend, T. I’ve been wanting this for years. I guess it just surprised me, to hear you say it.”
I pull the covers around me. “Are you sure? It doesn’t freak you out?” Though I guess if it does, he only has to stand it for a few more days.
Stop it, brain. Stop it.
Kai suddenly crouches down to the carpet. Did he drop something? But then he rises up on one knee and takes my hands in his.
“Tegan Rossi,” he says in an exaggeratedly deep voice—his Hulk voice. “Will you … be my … girlfriend?”
He’s grinning, and so am I, and it’s all a silly game, a joke, just pretend. Like when we were kids playing make believe, running across the seaweed-strewn beach, turning what we saw into something else. All it took to transform an object was to name it out loud, whatever you wanted it to be, and the other person would believe you wholeheartedly. Pretend that rock is a hidden temple. Pretend this stick is a magic key. Pretend this shell is a diamond ring.
The Best Week That Never Happened Page 17