The End or Something Like That (16 page)

After Gabby left me in the hall, I sat there.

And sat there.

And sat there.

Someone turned out the lights.

I stood up and walked outside.

Skeeter was sitting on the grass.

At least I thought he was. He was blurry. Maybe I was crying then, too.

He stood up. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Then he was saying something to me but I wasn't listening. I was walking.

I think he walked with me.

I think he was with me and we walked the five miles home because the buses were gone.

I think I was sweating and I think he gave me some water.

I think when we got to my house I walked in and I think I left him on our front lawn.

I think I crawled under my bed and I think I cried and cried and cried.

Mom drove me.

I didn't have my stuff.

No Snickers, no Skittles, no
Ladyhawke
.

Mom looked straight ahead and let me sit there.

“Where to?” she said once we'd gotten past the houses and were coming to the turn off.

“Just drop me off at the visitors' center,” I said.

She nodded. Then she said, “Can I come with you?”

I looked at her. She was such a good person and I had been so horrible. So horrible. To her. To Gabby. To everyone.

“I have to do this alone but I promise, I promise that I will tell you everything tonight. Everything.”

She glanced at me.

“What do you have to do?”

I took a breath. “I don't know,” I said. I watched raindrops hit the windshield. “I guess say good-bye?”

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“Okay,” she finally said, and I said, “Okay.” And we drove into the parking lot.

“Should I wait here?”

“No. I'll get home.”

“How?”

“I'll walk down to the bus stop.”

“Emmy, it's more than five miles.”

“I know,” I said. “Kim and I used to do it all the time.”

She thought about it for a few seconds and I said a prayer, a prayer that she would let me go. That one more time, just one more time, she'd let me go.

“Do you have your cell phone?”

I pulled it out to show her.

“Call me when you're done,” she said. “I'll be waiting at home. We all will be.”

My heart thumped. They'd all be waiting for me.

“Okay.”

The clock said 5:22.

I opened the door to get out and she said, “Emmy?”

I looked at her. “What?”

“I'm here for you.”

I nodded. “I know.”

She smiled.

I closed the door and watched her drive away.

And then I was alone in the rain.

I went to the hospital with Mom the day after Kim collapsed.

I even put on lipstick. I don't know why.

Kim was in the usual unit on her usual floor.

She was not doing well. Mom had been on her cell with Trish and Kim was not doing well at all, Mom said.

“Oh,” I said.

Mom looked at me when I said that, “It's worse than usual,” she said in the elevator.

“I heard,” I said. Then I looked at a poster on the wall of a bunch of babies.

She was not doing well but it would be okay. This had happened a few times before and it always worked out. It took time, but eventually she'd be okay.

She'd be okay.

We got off the elevator and Mom walked quickly.

I walked behind her.

And I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be anywhere else. Anywhere but there.

I knew all I'd have to do was sit. Watch bad movies or play Uno with Kim or, if she was too tired, with Mom or Trish.

I'd eat chips from the vending machines and do MASH over and over and over again until Kim and I got the boys we wanted.

It wasn't hard to be the friend. You didn't have to have the tubes and the medicine and the shots and the doctors.

But that day was a tunnel. A dark black tunnel.

Trish was out in the nurses' area talking to a lady.

Mom said she was going to help her. “You check on Kimmer,” she said.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Mom hurried over.

I stood.

And then I moved.

Barely.

I stopped just outside Kim's door and stared at her name on the whiteboard.

Kim Porter. Someone had made the “o” in her name a heart. I almost erased it with my finger but then I didn't.

This is nothing.

Everything will be fine.

I took a breath and walked into her room.

•

It was worse than I'd ever imagined.

•

Things beeping, her skin white-leather, the smell heavy and sterile. I had to stop myself from reacting. I'd never seen her like that. Ever.

She opened her eyes.

“Hey,” she said. Her voice soft.

“Hey.”

She struggled to sit up.

“Don't worry,” I said. “You don't have to worry. Just lie there.”

She said, “I'm okay.”

I said, “Yeah. I know.”

She nodded. Then she said, “Your lips look pretty.”

I touched my mouth. I didn't think she'd notice. I don't know why, she was the one person who always noticed.

I sat down next to her. “I was just playing around,” I said.

“I like it,” she said.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

She closed her eyes for a second and I watched her chest. I watched it go up and down and up and down. She was going to be fine. She was always fine.

“So,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Are you mad at me?”

I swallowed. “What?”

“You're mad at me, right?”

“No.”

“You're not?”

I tried to think what to say. I
was
mad at her. I was really really mad at her.

“I don't know,” I said.

It was all so stupid. She could make other friends. She could go to parties and wear tight clothes. She could have boys pick her up at the grocery store. She could do whatever she wanted.

“What did I do?” she said.

I twisted my ring on my finger. I just wanted things to go back to normal.

I started to say something when Mom walked in. “Hey, Missy.” She walked over and stroked Kim's hair. “How're you feeling?”

“Not too good,” Kim said.

Mom reached for her water and helped her drink some. “You'll be okay. We just need to get you strong again. Your mom is talking to your doctors.”

Kim nodded.

I stood there.

Mom looked at me. She could tell something was wrong. But she didn't ask. Instead she straightened Kim's pillow and sat down.

“You want to watch something?”

Kim looked at me. I shrugged.

“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”

I sat down on a couch across the room.

Mom turned on the TV and
1000 Ways to Die
was on. Mom started to switch it and Kim said, “Let's watch this.”

Mom looked at her and I tried not to laugh. No way my mom was going to let us watch this show. Kim knew it. “You want to watch this?” Mom said.

“It's very intellectual,” Kim said. “I think it will make me feel better.”

Mom looked at me.

“It is quite intellectual,” I said.

“And addicting.” Kim smiled. “You should ask Joe.”

So for the next three hours, we watched reruns of
1000 Ways to Die
. Trish came in and didn't say a word. Just sat down.

We watched someone die from eating too much ketchup, someone die sledding down a mountain of pancakes, someone die from the static of a microphone.

Mom kept going, “Girls, let's change it.” Or “Oh my, is this true?” Or “What did he just say?”

Trish said, “Linda, you're getting into this,” and Mom blushed. “No I'm not.”

We were laughing so hard. At least I was. Kim was sort of laughing but you could tell it hurt.

But still. She was laughing.

Maybe everything was going to be okay.

Dr. Farnsworth, Gary, advocated nature. Visitations could happen anywhere but getting back to God's creations made crossing the veil that much simpler.

So we picked a trail that was pretty easy to hike and every time we'd been there, there were other people. Tourists or locals or climbers or bikers.

Today, with the rain, there was no one in sight.

I started up the trail. She died in eight minutes. Eight minutes.
If I went hard, I could make it.

As I began to hike, the rain started to pound down.

I took deep breaths and tried to focus.

I will see you.

I can see you.

You will be there.

I didn't bring your treats.

I didn't bring your movie.

I didn't bring your book.

But I brought me.

Just me.

I miss you. You are my best friend.

As I came around the corner to where our rock was in view, I froze.

There was a figure.

Someone.

She stood up when she saw me.

She waved.

My heart pumped and I waved back. I waved back and then I started walking toward her. Faster. And faster.

Soon I was running.

It was happening. This was happening. After everything else, it was finally happening.

If you know someone is going to die for years, for every day of every week, of every month, of every year, sometimes you don't think it's really going to happen.

Even if that person gets close now and then.

She may even be in the hospital and she may look really sick and the nurses may whisper in the hallways but even with all that, she won't die.

•

She never dies.

•

She never ever ever dies.

•

Until one day, she does.

After a long time sitting and watching TV at the hospital, Kim got a visitor.

It was Gabby.

She stood in the doorway. Her face pale and she was trembling, holding a mug with candy in it.

I looked at my hands.

Trish was in the corner asleep.

Mom saw her. “Oh my goodness, Gabby. Come in.”

Gabby didn't move.

Kim saw her for the first time. “Oh hey. Yeah. Come in.”

Gabby said, “Okay.”

And she sat on the edge of the couch by me.

“How are you?” she said to Kim.

“I'm good.”

“Good,” she said. “Good.”

Kim said, “Yeah.”

Then Gabby handed her the cup of chocolate, which was a stupid gift.

I sat there and watched.

“I'm sorry you're sick,” Gabby said.

Kim shrugged and smiled. “It's okay.”

Gabby nodded. Then she said, “I'm glad you didn't die.”

Just like that, I'm glad you didn't die.

Kim laughed. “I'm never going to die, right, Ems?”

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like I was being strangled.

“Ems?” Kim said. Gabby looked at me and I knew any minute, any second, I was going to burst.

I stood up. “I'll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

I shook my head. Mom looked at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I just need some air.”

Mom said something else. Or maybe it was Kim.

Or maybe even Gabby.

I don't know because as soon as I was out of that room I started running.

I ran.

And ran

And ran.

I didn't stop until I was down the stairs, through the lobby, and out into the heat.

And there, right there in front of the roundabout and the taxis and the people in wheelchairs, right there I sank to the cement and started to bawl.

•

Kim died three minutes after I left.

•

Kim died without me.

•

I let her die without me.

I got closer and the figure got bigger and then I slowed.

•

It wasn't Kim.

•

It wasn't Kim at all.

•

It was Skeeter.

•

I stopped in the middle of the trail.

“Hey,” he yelled.

I didn't move.

“Emmy?”

It was Skeeter.

I didn't understand.

But part of me felt relieved.

Why did I feel relieved?

I had let my best friend down and I was doing it again.

But then he was coming toward me. I kept walking.

Dear Kim. What does this mean? Where are you? Why aren't you here?

And then he was standing in front of me.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I've been waiting for you.”

The rain still going and we were both soaked. He was wearing a Descendants T-shirt, his headphones around his neck, and he was carrying a plastic bag.

“I brought us food.”

“You brought us food?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it's mostly gone.” He held it out for me to see and it was full of wrappers.

“How long have you been here?”

He wiped his face but it didn't do much good, the water was running down.

“I've been here since eight.”

“Eight?”

“Eight.”

“Eight in the morning?”

“Eight in the morning.”

My heart was thumping and I didn't even know why.

“Why?”

He shook his head. Looked at his feet and then shook his head again. Then he said, “I knew you'd come. I knew you'd be here sometime. I didn't . . . I didn't want to, you know, miss you.”

I took a breath. He didn't want to miss me.

“You've been waiting for me all day?”

He looked at me. “I guess I have.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because.”

•

Because . . .

•

“Because.” He stopped and I waited. I waited and he said, “Because.”

And then he took my face in his hands.

And I almost died. I almost died right then.

•

He took my face in his hands and he did what I never thought would ever happen to me. Ever. In a million years.

•

He took my face in to his hands, the water pouring down, and he kissed me.