Out of Reach (2 page)

Mom,

Please don’t be angry with me. You know how much I love you and Dad, I just needed to do this. And please don’t be angry at Seth and Emily. You know I always get my way.

I love you.

Andy xx

I sighed and left the note. I still didn’t agree with what he was doing, but if he was going to do this, we were going to be by his side. He knew when he asked me, I couldn’t say no. I’d never been able to, even when we were kids. He’d guilt me into his stupid and random plans every fucking time. He was also stubborn enough to have just called a taxi and gone off somewhere alone, which would’ve meant Em and I chasing him across the country anyway. Besides, I knew that eventually Deb would forgive me.

I just wasn’t sure I’d forgive myself if he died without her being able to say goodbye.

Emily

“Are you warm enough?” I tugged at the blankets covering Andy. I was cold. I wasn’t sure how he couldn’t be. He rolled his eyes and pushed the blankets back down, annoyed at my fussing.

“I’m fine, Em. Stop stressing,” he said. He reached up and traced along the side of my cheek. “You’re the one who’s cold. You’re shivering. Maybe you need some Andy loving to warm you up,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

I leaned down to kiss him, forcing myself to smile at his joke. “No,” I said, putting my hands up to stop him as he tried to push one of the blankets onto me. “Just do what you’re told for once,” I muttered, kissing him on the nose.

“Right, because you always do what I tell you.” He laughed, but let me tuck the blankets back around him.

“That’s different,” I replied smugly, folding his hand into mine. “You’re skin and bones. It’s not like you could stop me.”

“Harsh,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. His gaze fell downward. “Em? Thanks for this. What you and Seth are doing for me means a lot.”

“I know it does.” My voice dropped. The tightness in my chest became more apparent. It was always there: a gnawing feeling, like I was just waiting for something bad to happen. And I guess I was.

I remember the day of his diagnosis like it was yesterday. I remember sitting in that surgery office with him and Deb as the doctor explained how the melanoma they’d found on his little toe had spread to his pancreas. The prognosis wasn’t good, but it could have been worse. There was hope.

Until there wasn’t.

Terminal.
Hearing that word, I still clung to hope that a miracle would happen, and that somehow the cancer would shrink. I’d lost my parents; surely life couldn’t be this cruel, could it? I felt awful even thinking about myself. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt. He’d fought so hard for so long, and to be told there was nothing more they could do . . . how do you process that?

“Em,” Andy said. “Good thoughts, remember?”

I smiled, blinking back tears as I reached inside my jacket pocket and touched the small leather binder.
Good thoughts
. When it was obvious I wasn’t coping, I’d begun writing down a list of memories, forcing myself to only focus on the good. It had been Andy’s idea, a way for me to remember the time we’d had together; the time we had left. It was my way of staying strong for him, because the last thing he needed was for me to be a broken mess. If I let myself slow down for even a second, then that’s exactly what I’d be.

“Good thoughts,” I mumbled, squeezing his hand.

“This will be great, I promise.” He lifted his hand and let his fingers run through my hair. “You’re so beautiful, Em. Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“I have a fair idea,” I said, my heart skipping. I leaned down and placed my mouth on his. He kissed me back, his lips softly moving in sync with mine as my fingers raked through his short dark hair. I pulled away and smiled before moving back in for another kiss.

“You can’t get enough of me,” he said tenderly. “See? I’m irresistible.”

“You are,” I agreed, giggling. I stood back up, resting my back against the open door of the car, my hand still draped in his.

But behind my laughter was pure agony, because every kiss left me wondering if there would be another. Every moment we spend together could well be our last, and that meant I had to make every moment count.

Seth

“All done.”

“Did you read it?” asked Andy, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I did.” I retorted. I shook my head and opened the driver’s side door. “Your mom is going to me calling non-fucking-stop once she realizes you’re gone.”

“Yeah. She’s going to be pissed,” he agreed.

That was the understatement of the century.

I slid inside and shut the door, starting up the car as Em slipped in beside me. Her blue eyes met mine and she smiled, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. God, how I longed to be the one doing that. Touching her. Kissing those plump, red lips. I loved the way she smiled. And the way her bottom lip caught under her tooth when she was nervous or deep in thought.

“Dude,” Andy’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “Are you trying to get me caught?”

“Sorry,” I muttered, stepping on the accelerator. My eyes fell on Em’s long, slender fingers as she reached for the stereo knob. Her nails were painted a light pink. I smiled as
Jesse’s Girl
blared through the speakers.

How appropriate.
If I had an anthem, this song would be it.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw Andy was fast asleep. We’d barely made it out of his street, and he was out like a light. I glanced at his chest, watching for a sign that he was still breathing.
Still alive
. I sighed with relief when a burst of air exited his lungs.

“I do that, too.”

I glanced sideways at Em, who was watching me. The sadness in her eyes made me hurt. My chest burned like I’d swallowed a cup full of battery acid.

“Every night, I watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful that I have to check . . . to make sure . . .” She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. We both knew what she meant.

“I think it’s a natural instinct, to want to protect him,” I mumbled, the words flowing thickly past my lips.

“I imagine that’s what it’s like to have a baby. Those first few weeks where every moment they sleep, you worry.” She laughed lightly. “I’d make the worst mother. I’d be in there shaking her awake, just to make sure she was still with me. Or him.”

“You’d make the best mother,” I replied, my voice soft.

She smiled at me again, her green eyes lighting up.

“It’s true.” I shrugged. “You’re one of the most caring people I know.”

“Thanks. Though I feel like I’ll never . . . I don’t know. You don’t need to hear this.” She turned away from me, staring out the window, trying to hide the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

I wanted to comfort her. I so badly wanted to just take her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right, but I was frozen. I was unable to move, my hands clutching the steering wheel, my mind unable to focus on anything other than Andy, sprawled out on my back seat.

I was an asshole. The worst kind of friend.

Because my want to help her, that desire to be there for her was so strong . . . I could paint it however I liked: deep down I knew that it had less to do with being a good friend and everything to do with being that person that she needed.

Lifting my hand off the wheel, I reached over and touched her arm. She jumped, but let my fingers trail down to hers. I held her hand and tried to force myself not to think about the electricity pulsating through my body at the feel of her touch. It was hopeless. It was like standing in a rainstorm and pretending you weren’t getting wet. It was impossible for my body not to react to her.

“It’ll be okay, Em. I’ll be here for you
—
for both of you.”

“I don’t know how you’re so calm,” she replied. Gathering her hair over one shoulder, she sighed. “I’m a mess. Every time I kiss him I wonder if it will be our last. I can’t sleep, because what if he goes in the middle of the night, and I’m not there for him?”

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground.” Into the ground? I cringed.
Great choice of words
.

“At least then I won’t be alone,” she whispered. That was it. She never stopped, because when she did the reality became all too real.

“You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have me. And Deb, and Karl.”

She nodded, a smile plastered on her lips, but the sadness in her eyes remained. I knew it wasn’t the same, but she had no idea how loved she actually was. She thought losing Andy would make her alone, but that was so far from the truth. And she would never know that.

Because if there was one thing worse than being in love with your dying best friend’s girl, it was telling her that after he was gone.

Emily

We’d been driving for hours. Andy still hadn’t given us an exact address, but I suspected we were headed for the beach. I wasn’t sure why, but it just seemed like a very
Andy
place to go to die.

When I used to visit him on the weekends back in college, we’d get up early and lay on the beach, tangled in each other’s arms, watching the sunrise. Those moments had been perfect. He’d beaten cancer once, so in my eyes he was invincible.

I’d give anything to be able to erase those memories and experience them all again for the first time. To experience again how romantic he could be, or how sweet his kisses could taste. Or how it could feel like the whole world stopped when my head rested against his chest and I listened to the beat of his heart.

Or how broken I would be without him.

But I couldn’t, and as hard as it was, I had to try and make these last few weeks special for him. It was selfish for me to think of myself when he was the one dying.

***

I quickly reached across and punched Seth
square
in the shoulder.
Hard
. He laughed as I pointed to the red Jeep that was flying past us in the other direction. Andy was still sleeping, and Seth and I had resorted to childish car games to pass the time.

His fist came out of nowhere and connected with my arm. I instinctively grabbed at it, my eyes narrowing in on him. He nodded ahead to the silver Jeep in front of us. I laughed. Shit.
How did I miss that one?

“Okay, we need a new game or you’re going to end up covered in bruises,” he said, his lips turning up into a cocky grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to hide my amusement. “Me? You’re getting just as many punches as I am,” I retorted.

He laughed. “True, but you hit like a girl.”

My mouth fell open. Reaching over, I punched him as hard as I could in the arm. He yelped, sending a little thrill of satisfaction rushing through me. I giggled as he shook his head.

Turning to check on Andy, I felt a wave of guilt hit me.

Laughing had become so foreign to me. Pretending to be happy: now that was something I’d mastered. But actual happiness? That feeling that races through you when you think about how perfect a moment is? That was rare. It was like those moments stopped existing the second I found out Andy was dying.

I felt bad about laughing. I shouldn’t have been feeling happy. Happiness and laughter were feelings reserved for moments of hope and joy. Nothing about this situation exuded that.

“What’s wrong?”

I glanced at Seth, surprised he’d noticed. But then again, he always noticed. He knew me so well.

“From laughing and smiling to on the verge of tears in ten seconds flat. Talk to me, Em.”

I shrugged, not trusting myself with words. If I opened my mouth right then, all that would spill out would be a jumbled, sobbing mess. I couldn’t imagine my life after Andy. He had been sick for nine years, terminal for six months. I should have felt prepared, but how can you ever be ready for that?

Just when I thought I had myself under control, I’d remember, or do something, that would remind me of Andy and the fact that I was losing him. My heart was a mess, and my head was confused. I didn’t know what I should be feeling. Or how I should be acting. I was mourning him and he wasn’t even gone yet.

“I’m here. Whenever you need to talk, I’m here for you. Always.” Seth reached over and squeezed my hand. I managed a smile, comforted by his words.

Seth.

The boy who had been as big a part of my life as Andy had been since we were twelve.
The three of us, against the world.

I snuck a look his way. His hands gripped the wheel, his eyes firmly on the road. His dark mop of hair was wild and unruly, but it suited him. He was attractive, kind, and funny, yet he’d never had a serious relationship. I didn’t question it, because what business was it of mine? Of course I’d spoken to Andy about it, who had laughed and shrugged it off as him just not having found the right girl. How do you find the right girl when you’re not even looking?

Relaxing into my seat, I tried to fight the sleepiness that was overcoming me. I glanced behind me at Andy, who was propped up on his pillows, legs sprawled across the back seat. I swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat. He looked so peaceful when he slept. He never complained about the pain, even though I could see it in his eyes every time he moved. He was so desperate to protect me from what was happening to his body, but how could he? Nothing was going to change the path he was on.

Shifting back around in my seat, my eyes locked briefly with Seth’s. I forced a small smile, knowing it wouldn’t fool him. He knew me better than almost anyone.
Almost.
Soon that “almost” wouldn’t apply anymore. Soon he would be all I had.

“There’s a truck stop just up here. We should stop for a drink. I could use a caffeine hit.”

I nodded, not bothering to feign interest. I mean, what was the point? That was my attitude a lot these days. Though I tried not to show it, I was losing faith in life and humanity. Life was just a game and the end result was death. There was no way around that. No restarting things because you were playing it badly. You had one shot, and that was it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to play anymore.

I’d lost both my parents when I was fourteen to a car accident. The last words I spoke to my mother were, “I wish I’d been born to someone else.” And all because she’d refused me a pair of three-hundred-dollar jeans.

For a long time, I’d hated myself. I hated the person I was, and I’d blamed myself for not being a better daughter. When I was little, every night, I’d kiss my parents goodnight and tell them I loved them. I would end every phone call with
I love you
. As soon as we moved to Chicago, all that had changed. And when I started high school, I wanted to be a different person. I was sick of the goody-two-shoes persona I had going on. I wanted to rebel.

I was a normal teenager, acting like a normal teenager
—o
nly I hadn’t expected not being allowed the chance to rectify my behavior. Every teenager acts up. Then you look back on it and laugh. You don’t expect to lose everything.

The worst thing was, in the trunk of the car was a bag from Diesel, with my three-hundred-dollar pair of jeans.

I still have them now, still unworn, wrapped in tissue paper and charred from the wreckage. Still sitting in a box under my bed as a constant reminder to myself to never let those you love go a day without hearing those words.

“Em?”

I looked up. Seth was staring at me. Glancing around, I realized we’d pulled into a truck stop. I looked out the window, embarrassed that he’d caught me lost in my own thoughts. The parking lot was nearly deserted, apart from an older couple getting into a beat-up old Dodge two spots away from us. I watched the man as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled up at him with love in her eyes. My heart sank. That would never be us. Andy I weren’t going to grow old together. There were so many things we’d never get to do.

“Sorry,” I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt. Getting out of the car, I opened the passenger door. Andy roused as I gently shook his shoulder. “Hey, baby. Do you need anything?” I asked, my voice soft. He winced in pain and my heart broke for him. I wanted to burst into tears because I couldn’t make everything right.

He was a shadow of the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. His skin was so pale; it almost looked translucent in the soft glow of the morning light. His beautiful eyes, once so dark and full of life, were now dull, and hiding so much pain. His dark hair, short and thin, had grown back since the chemo had stopped, but it was nothing like the lustrous, curly locks he’d once had.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping. “I need help . . .” He broke off, embarrassed. I nodded and assisted him out of the car. He didn’t need to say it. Nowadays, it was a regular occurrence.

“Do you need your chair?” I asked.

Seth appeared by my side. “Anything I can do to help?”

“He needs to go to the bathroom,” I replied quickly.

Andy glanced down, his face coloring.

“Oh, well I can help him—”

“No,” I cut in, a little too loudly. Andy cringed as I struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t embarrass him. Only I couldn’t think of one. “It’s just . . . I . . .”

“I’ve already
gone
to the bathroom, man. Trust me. You don’t want any part of this,” Andy mumbled, flicking at a piece of lint on his track pants.

“Oh,” Seth replied, leading us into an awkward silence.

“Can you get the wheelchair out?” I asked him.

He nodded and jumped into action, racing around the back of the car and popping open the trunk.

“Thanks.” I smiled as he wheeled it around.

I helped Andy over into the chair and grabbed his bag.

“Can you get me a coffee and something to eat?” I asked Seth as he walked alongside me into the truck stop.

“Sure, what to eat?”

“A bagel or something easy.”

He nodded. “Anything for you, man? I can get them to put a shake and burger in the blender for you,” he added with a grin. Andy burst out laughing. Just like that, the weirdness of the situation vanished.

“Only if you drink it too,” he shot back.

Seth screwed up his nose. “I think I’ll pass on that.”

A sigh escaped me as I pushed Andy over to the restrooms. I hated things being awkward between the three of us. One of the things I loved most about Seth was that he didn’t change around Andy. He was still the same wisecracking smartass. It was as though Andy’s dying wasn’t an issue. He didn’t hesitate to crack a cancer joke, or talk about guy stuff. He kept things real, and I knew how much Andy appreciated that.

“What do you need?” I asked, reversing the chair against the bench in the small shower room. The stench of mold and urine hung in the air, masked by the overpowering smell of disinfectant.

It might seem like a romance killer, but I’d been changing his catheter bags and wiping his ass for the past few months. It was almost second nature for me now. I knew that was a big reason behind his decision to move back home with his parents: he didn’t want to burden me with all of that. I also think it upset him, thinking about how much our relationship had changed. I had gone from his girlfriend to his caregiver. I hated being that person. I hated seeing him so broken. But as hard as it was for me to handle, it paled in comparison to what he was going through, and for that reason alone, I forced myself to work through it.

“If you pass me the towel in the bag, I’ll be okay.”

“No, let me help—”

“Em, I’ll be fine. Please.” His expression softened as soon as he saw the hurt in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t have you doing this for me. I can’t handle having my girlfriend wiping my ass every time I shit my pants, okay?”

I backed off. He was frustrated and I got it, but he needed help. Did he think I liked seeing him like this?

“You need help, Andy. How are you going to get through this trip if you won’t let me help you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’ve hired a nurse,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

He’d
what?
How could he do something like that without talking with me about it first? My heart ached. Why was he pushing me away?

“Em,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I want this trip to be something you remember. This isn’t about me. I’m dying. I’m okay with that. This is about me not wanting your final memories of me to be filled with the bad. Focus on the good, remember?”

I smiled through my tears.
Focus on the good.
If only it were that easy.