Mars (9 page)

I share looks with Ryan and Jenna and we are all silently agreeing and for the first time, I feel like I’m able to help him through the cancer. I turn to Logan and smile.

“I, Amaryllis Grace Wolfe, promise you that all of these wishes will be done.”

His face lights up. “I love you so much.”

I kiss him and feel an overwhelming sense of relief come over me.

“Hey? We’re still here?” says Jenna or Ryan but I don’t care.

He pulls away. “First wish, 
check
. Oh, and the ninth one too.”

23

Map leads to you

“Amy! Amy? Please, wake up! For God’s sake, wake up!” Someone, I recognize now as Dad, shakes me. He looks nervous and very worried. He is in his pajamas, keys in hand.

Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s 2 am.

“What’s wrong?” I say, knowing that his reason for waking me up is probably worry-worthy.

“Logan, h-he’s not doing good. His mom called you, but I picked up and she told me Logan’s been saying your name so I’m driving you there right now.”

I stand up, feeling my heart beat louder and louder by the second. Its thumps resound in my whole body.

“Let’s go,” I say. “Now.”

“Oh God, oh God, where is he?” I whimper, finding Logan’s parents, but they’re in front of the emergency room.

“Amaryllis, c’mere,” says Ella, who is sobbing.

“He’s not—is he?”

“No,” she says. I take her in my arms; she continues crying.

I collapse as well, feeling tears of relief rushing down my cheeks. He isn’t dead. Logan isn’t dead. He isn’t dead.

“What happened?” I say shakily.

“He couldn’t breathe and he fainted.”

I put a hand over my mouth and try to breathe. The thought of him struggling, going through a hard time because of a horrible tumor in his lung, makes me want to punch a wall and then cry beside it.

The doctor comes out of the room, taking his gloves out. He gives everyone a small, sad smile.

“He’s going to be okay, for now. It was just a seizure.”

“What else is wrong?” asks Dad, who has a talent of knowing when people are lying.

“We think the tumor in his lung is growing. If he sticks with his decision to let go of chemo, the amount of months left for him varies between 4 to 5 months, not 9 anymore.”

Nononono.

Logan can’t die.

“Dad?”

He turns to me and I can’t help but wrap my arms around him. I feel my heart breaking with every tear I let fall.  I don’t want Logan to die. I need him.

“I don’t want him to die,” I say.

Dad just rubs my back and says words that I can’t bring myself to comprehend. I pull away and swallow the saliva accumulating in my mouth.

“The bucket list,” I say.

“What?” asks Jane, her cheeks wet with tears, too.

“His b-bucket list. We have to do everything on that list before he dies.”

What first comes to mind is the concert, I remember Jenna complaining about missing the Coldplay concert. All I have to do is figure out where they’re playing next.

24

We might be in love

I lean over his body carefully and kiss his forehead. Taking his hand in mine, I look at him.

A few locks of his tousled hair fall on his forehead, making him look a few years younger. His lips are dry, but as red as ever. He is almost as pale as the bed sheets he’s sleeping on, but there’s an unnoticeable flush on his cheeks.

Everything is set.

The concert is next week, in Vegas.  Dad, surprisingly, is supportive of this. Logan’s mom and my dad are coming with us, so that we have two adults with us in case anything happens. My father is actually the one who pulled some strings to get us last minute tickets.

So far, I have four Logan-wishes planned to accomplish.

Going to a concert, learning a new language (I have a friend who speaks Spanish, she said she would help out), go on a romantic picnic close to a waterfall and graduate from high school. Logan’s father spoke to the principal and they agreed that Logan’s GPA was high enough for him to graduate early. Thankfully, the principal had taken into consideration Logan’s state. The graduation would be in two weeks.

I squeeze his hand and smile at him, even though he can’t see me.

“You’re going to be happy, I promise,” I say.

Failing to resist the incredible urge to lay a kiss on his lips, I do it.

“Amaryllis,” he mumbles.

I freeze, fearing that I woke him. His eyes are shut, he looks asleep.

“Amaryllis,” he says again. I rub circles into his palm. After a few seconds, his eyes flutter and he opens his eyes. They search his surroundings and he lays his eyes on me. A spark of recognition is there.

“Did you kiss me?” He asks groggily, licking his lips.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Sleeping Beauty. You’re my prince, then.”

“Did you just call me a guy?” I ask, feigning hurt feelings.

“No, I just meant you’re my saving grace.”

“Saving grace? You’re still good at words when you’re half awake.”

“I know,” he blinks repeatedly and looks down at his hospital robe and tubes.

He lets out a small groan. “I hate this.”

“So do I.”

“Cancer’s the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.”

I nod. “I know.”

He intertwines his fingers with mine and the giddy feeling in my heart returns. I want to kiss him again. And again. And again.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

I smile. “You have morning breath.”

I reach into my backpack and take a bottle of water and a pack of mints.

“That’s why I brought these,” I say. He chuckles and swallows a bit of water before putting three mints in. He sits up and I adjust his pillow to comfort his back. After all the munching is done, he points to his mouth.

“Could you check if the breath is gone, babe?”

Babe. I’m babe.

“Sure,” I switch my seat from the chair to the empty space beside him on the bed.

Leaning over, I kiss him. “It’s gone,” I say, pulling away.

He pulls on my shirt and kisses me again. And again. And again.

It seems like he has the same thoughts as me.

“Do you know that under the hospital robe, I have nothing but boxers on?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, fixing a loose strand of my hair.

Coldplay concert, Amy, think about telling him that. Not kissing him.

“I need to tell you something,” I say, properly sitting back down.

“Yeah, babe?”

Cue the mental giggles.

“Call it magic, call it true. I call it magic when I’m with you,” I sing horribly the first lines of a Coldplay song.

Logan stifles a laugh. “Singing isn’t for you. Don’t ruin Coldplay for me.”

“What if I told you that you’ll be seeing them live? In Las Vegas?” I say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His eyes light up and I swear I can feel his excitement pouring from them, figuratively, of course.

“You’re not serious.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Oh my God. You didn’t?!” He pauses, looking at me with hesitation. “You’re coming though, right?”

“Heck yeah, I did. And I’m not letting you enjoy one of my favorite bands in front row without me. Guess what else?”

“What?”

“Someone’s graduating in two weeks. It’s not me.”

He gapes, “Are you serious?”

“More than ever.”

“I love you,” he says, opening his arms. The exhilarated accent in his words makes my heart beat a little faster.

The embrace is awkward, but full of love. “Me too.”

“No, I mean like I love you a lot,” he says. His eyes are watering.

“I love you a lot
a lot
.”

All I covet is this joy of his, because his smile is worth the world. 

25

I wanna get better

“Nu-uh, don’t sit together,” says dad, plopping himself in the seat beside mine.

“Daaaad! Please?” I beg, giving him a puppy dog face.

“Pleaaase, Mr.Wolfe? I’ll be a sage boy,” says Logan, widening his eyes innocently.

Dad’s eyes flicker from me to Logan and he groans. “Fine. No funny business.” He sits behind us with Logan’s mom, Jane.

“Of course not,” says Logan, sitting beside me. He leans and whispers, “Not until he falls asleep.”

“Logan!” I hit his arm. The flight won’t last more than an hour or two, but Dad has been so sleep deprived lately he might actually drift off.

He shrugs. “What? I don’t deserve some alone time with my girl?”

“Of course you do,” I say, blushing at the ‘my girl’.

Logan puts on his seat belt and takes out a pack of gum from his bag and hands one to me.

“Why?” I ask.

“Didn’t you ever go on a plane before?”

“…”

Logan gasps. “You never went on a plane before?! Take the gum, woman!”

I stuff the strawberry-flavored gum in my mouth and chew on it.

“You traveled before?”

He nods. “My grandparents live in New York; we visit them every two years.”

The plane starts to move and I find myself clutching on Logan’s arm. There’s a building up of pressure in my head and it makes me feel like when you go on the amusement park ride that slides up, then down.

Logan pokes my cheek. “We’re flying now, scaredy cat.”

I look out the window and gasp. “We’re flying.”

“I just said that, don’t you ever listen to me?” says Logan in a highly exaggerated white girl voice.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, it’s just that, like, I’ve like never been flying before,” I answer in the same tone.

“Such a white girl, psht. Where’s your Starbucks?”

“You’re one to speak, you can’t live without coffee.”

“True. Remember when we went out for, as you said, a hot beverage together?”

I smile. “Yeah. That seems like forever ago.”

“It was only a few months ago,” he says pensively. “I never thought falling in love could take only a few months. You proved me wrong.”

I take his hand in mine. “Ever so cheesy. Do you have a movie?”

“I’m so cheesy, Swiss cheese gets jealous of me. And of course, who do you think I am?” he says.

He reaches into his backpack and takes out his tablet, earphones and two neck pillows.

“The Breakfast Club?” he says.

I nod, putting one of the neck pillows on. “I’ve been wanting to watch it.”

“I know.”

He hands me an earplug and puts one. He places the tablet on the tray and presses 
play. 
I put my head on his shoulder and his head rests on mine. We watch the movie together.

              Faster than we realize, the plane lands. It hits me; I’m in Las Vegas. With Logan. About to see a Coldplay concert.

              Can life get any better?