I knock again, meaningI will,and even though it’s unspoken, he understands it.
“See you soon!”
I think of the tiny crane nesting in his hand.For you. Something inside me feels heavy. I can’t imagine what would happen if I had to go back. I think I’d go back to Old Sheriff. There is only escaping with River or jumping—nothing else.
River left me something to eat and drink and put some fresh clothes on the bed. Of course, the jeans are too big, but next to them are an army-green long-sleeved shirt and a black T-shirt. A Demons ’N Saints fan T-shirt like Arizona owns, only in a men’s large. On the front are the four musicians, made up beyond recognition. Bassist, guitarist, drummer, and singer, each scarier than the last. KISS has nothing on them. So, River is also into punk rock.
Punk rock means freedom. The quote from philosophy class pops into my mind.
I inhale deeply and slip on the army-green long-sleeved shirt. It falls to my mid-thighs, and, for the first time, I’m glad I’m notas tall as Arizona. I sniff curiously at the material. Its scent is overwhelming—a mixture of River and fresh lime blossoms.
I pull the hem of my left sleeve over my palm, go back into the bathroom, and untangle my hair with the comb that’s been lying around. Then, despite the knot in my stomach, I eat a sandwich, drink the Coke, and sit at the table with a pad and pen.
I writeBig Fivein squiggly letters as a heading, then stare at the blank page for minutes.Be honest about them.I can’t think of anything because I have no idea what to write on a things-to-do-before-dying list. After a few minutes, I google ‘bucket list’ and find things like surfing in Hawaii, hiking through a foreign country for months, saying “fuck you” to my chemistry teacher, cutting up the furniture in a hotel room like a rock star, and knowing every country and capital on earth by heart.
However, none of those have anything to do with me. Besides, people always assume they have an infinite amount of time to live. Maybe it’s completely stupid to write lists like this. It would be better if these lists were more along the lines of,If I only had one more week, what would I do?OrWhat would I do if I only had one more day?
I grip the pencil tighter and close my eyes for a moment. Okay, Kans. You have one summer. What do you want to do? What do you really, really want to do?
1. Be a fixed star for once.
The wish shoots straight from my heart onto the paper. It’s a shallow wish, but I want to know how it would feel. For once, I want to know what it’s like to be adored and loved by everyone.
I chew the end of my pencil thoughtfully, wondering what’s on River’s list. Maybe have a lot of money, or don’t hate myself anymore. Or even jump from a highline.
Without thinking too much, I write:
2. Tell someone I love them.
And then:
3. Hug someone.
However, that’s not entirely honest. Basically, it should say kiss a boy I like. Best under moonlight. But I don’t want River to read that.
I continue to think about it. I want to tell Dad that he can kiss my ass, but that’s not a good item for a Big Five list.
4. Ask Mom why she left.
I glance at the newspaper, which is still neatly folded on the bedside table.
5. Laugh and cry out loud.
I stand up suddenly and listen to Dad’s message again. Impulsively, I start typing:
I won’t be home until the end of summer. I’m currently with a guy named Max. You don’t know him. Chester doesn’t know him. Don’t bother trying to find him. I’m so tired of you treating me like a leper. I never lied, Dad. I never threw myself at Chester. You are blind. Allof you. So blind. And by the way, don’t be surprised, but my battery will be dead soon, and I don’t have a charging cable with me.
Send.
My heart pounds wildly. I’ve never spoken to Dad like that before. I’ve written it, but he’s never seen any of it. For the next hour, I pace back and forth in the motel room, waiting for his reply, but then my cell phone shuts down as the battery dies. Somehow, this grace period is a relief, but it also makes me nervous because I don’t know if Chester is scheming something new.
At some point, I collapse onto the bed, exhausted. My legs hurt from hiking and slacklining. I’m dead tired but wide awake. Too excited to sleep. I stare at the ceiling.Laughing out loud. Crying. When I stopped talking to my family a year ago, I still talked to myself sometimes—very quietly in the locked bathroom in front of the mirror when the house was empty. Just to find out if I could still do it and to hear my voice.
When did I stop doing that? Can I still do it?
I can speak; I know that. So, I can say no, too, can’t I?
The not-talking-anymore began when Arizona started giving me the silent treatment. I learned then that there are many ways you can leave people. To this day, I still hear the words she uttered with anger and disgust.
