“How do you know that?” he asks, suggesting otherwise.
“Because it’s not you. Or else you wouldn’t have waited so long to kiss me, and you wouldn’t be so nervous every time we’re close. This isn’t you, Kale. You’re only doing it because you think you’re going to die.”
Kale’s eyes harden. “I am going to die, don’t you get that? And not being with you would be my greatest mistake.”
“You are with me. You always have been.” Because it’s true, even if I never knew it. Then I say, “Tell me the truth, Kale. Do you want to do this tonight? Right now?”
His jaw clenches and he looks down. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
Before I can stop him, he moves away and gets off the bed, searching the floor for his T-shirt. After he pulls it back on, I catch his wrist. He stops and looks down at me, his chest moving steadily.
“You don’t have to be,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“Yes, I do.” Kale sits down next to me, weaving his fingers through mine. “I shouldn’t be using you to ignore my own problems. It’s wrong, I know. I just … I wanted to forget. I’m sorry.” He gives me a smile; one of his rare, dimple-showing amenities. “No matter how much I liked it.”
He leans in to give me a soft kiss. The short-lived smile is gone when he pulls away, replaced with an expression I’ve grown used to. A little of the person he was when I got here is showing again, and it pains me to know there’s nothing I can do.
He pulls me into him, and there’s so much of a difference between Kale holding me and anyone else. So much.
“It won’t be the last time,” I murmur into his shoulder.
Kale shivers against me and I lean away to look at him.
“Why are you always so cold?” I ask. “Does it have to do with something with you leaving soon?”
He nods. “The sooner I am to leaving, the colder I get. It’s like a warning. And the more I think about it, the worse it gets.”
“Then don’t think about it.”
“It’s hard not to when I can’t sleep.”
“So sleep here tonight.” Kale looks over, unsure. “Because you aren’t the only one having trouble.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s just sleeping, Kale.” He laughs a little, probably remembering his own similar words earlier. I realize he doesn’t laugh enough. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”
His eyes are a little sad. “Afraid I’ll disappear?”
“Should I be?”
Kale shakes his head and smiles again. “Not tonight.”
But maybe tomorrow or the day after. That’s what he doesn’t say and what I don’t want to think about.
37.
Kale
During the night, I can almost believe there is no such thing as day.
Night is for the sleepless.
For the ones who don’t want dawn to edge over the horizon.
Because each new day brings the reality that time is still in motion. It doesn’t stop for anyone. Or change, for that matter.
Not even for someone like me.
I sit on the edge of Harper’s bed and watch for the first signs of daybreak. The fields stretching away from the house are unmoving. Waiting, just as I am, for something I don’t want to come. Because once it does, it means everything must move forward.
Time must move on.
Me along with it.
I glance at Harper behind me. She hasn’t moved since she fell asleep hours ago. Her light brown—almost blonde—hair is webbed over her pillow, proof of her deep sleep. I envy her for that. I was able to sleep only a few hours before the dreams came and woke me.
I was wrong for coming here last night.
My mind wasn’t in the right place.
I wanted nothing more than to forget about what I had ahead of me—even if it was for only a moment. And I knew Harper was the only one who could do that. It’s one of those mistakes I wish I could take back.
I slowly stand, careful not to wake her. The sun peeks through the windows and I can’t sit here any longer. I walk around the bed and pick up my shoes and sweatshirt.
After the door clicks shut behind me, I make my way down the dark hallway. And the moment I smell toast coming from downstairs, my shoulders relax and I give a small sigh. I didn’t hear Uncle Jasper at all during the night, and I wonder if he ever went to bed.
He’s sitting in his usual place at the kitchen table, staring down at the wood with an expressionless face. He doesn’t even look up when I take my seat.
I’m having a moment of déjà vu.
It was four years ago, exactly two months after Aunt Holly died, and I had come over to visit. I did almost every day. But for those first two months, he tried to act like he was doing okay. He tried smiling and keeping a conversation. But there was a chunk of him missing that was too obvious to mistake.
Then one day I found him sitting at the table like this, finally realizing the reality of what had happened. That was when he started doing crossword puzzles, slowly trying to build his life back up, day by day.
There’s no paper in front of him today.
No smile and no hello.
Suddenly I’m afraid of what will happen to him when I don’t come back. And what about Dad? And Libby and Bryce. Miles and Grace. Harper. On the outside, I might be calm and controlled, but on the inside, I’m panicking like last night in the kitchen except not nearly as bad. Enough to stay in control, but barely.
I don’t want to die.
I want to come over here every day and walk into the kitchen, which constantly smells like toast.
I want to work on cars with Uncle Jasper.
I want to kiss Harper every minute and every hour.
I want to go to school and become a history teacher because I would be better at that than anyone.
I don’t want my dad to see his youngest son die and think it was his fault.
I want a future.
All the while I’m thinking this, I’m becoming colder and colder, and I don’t know how to make it stop.
I close my eyes and think of Harper upstairs—the curving shape of her lips, her long lashes touching her cheeks while she sleeps, and the memory of her fingers on my skin. Pulling me closer. Wanting me as much as I wanted her.
It’s enough of a distraction for now to keep me rooted here. I just can’t let my thoughts stray like that again.
Not when I’m this close to leaving.
I still haven’t asked her about the date she saw, and I wonder how many more travels I have left until it comes.
Neither Uncle Jasper nor I talk. There’s nothing to say. I’m sure Harper told him everything last night, so there’s no point confirming it or trying to come up with a way to stop it from happening.
Because it is going to happen. It’s the fact that haunts me.
Uncle Jasper becomes unfrozen and glances at me, his eyes not at all bright like they usually are. “Are you hungry?” he asks.