Love, Lucas (2 page)

A real beach. The thought sounds amazing. I’ve only seen pictures of Aunt Jo in the ocean. I’d love to have some photos of my own to hang on my wall. I climb off my bed and go look for a suitcase. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

My ears pop as we land in California. Mom grabs her carry-on from the overhead compartment and passes me my guitar. I already have my backpack on my lap. We both keep our jumbled thoughts to ourselves. When the line starts to move, I stand, and we follow the crowd and exit the stuffy plane.

Aunt Jo is waiting for us at baggage claim. She runs to Mom and they hug forever, even though they saw each other at the funeral four days ago. Everyone around us is staring, so I move away from them and wait for our suitcases to come down the chute and onto the turnstile. I don’t want to talk about Lucas, so I let them have a moment to themselves.

“How are you doing, Oakley? You hangin’ in there?”

I flinch at Jo’s hand on my shoulder. “I’m good.” I grab my suitcase and she lets go. I don’t miss the look she gives Mom.

They’re worried about me. They can see through the fake smile I put on for everyone who asks how I’m doing. I don’t know why I pretend everything’s okay when clearly it’s not. Lucas is gone. How can anything be okay when he’s not here? He was the only person in my life I could count on.

“Oakley, honey, you ready?” Mom looks over at me with a sad but hopeful smile.

“Yes.” I throw my backpack over my shoulder and my guitar over the other and follow them to the car, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The drive to Jo’s house is quiet. I study her and my mom for a while. It’s weird that they’re even sisters. They look nothing alike. Mom’s short dark hair is neat and straight, while Jo’s is long with light wild curls. Mom is pale with soft skin, and Jo is tan and rough-looking from being outside all the time. I look like Mom. Dark hair and pale skin. Sort of like death.

They’re so different. Their lives especially. Mom married Dad when she was only nineteen. They were high school sweethearts. Obviously it isn’t working out too well. I wonder why Jo never married, but I don’t ask. I’m not in the mood for conversation.

Jo’s house is beautiful. It’s right across the street from the beach. There are windows everywhere. Huge rectangular windows that face the ocean. I’ve always dreamed of living in a house like this. It seems so peaceful. Safe from whispers and gossip. Just what I need.

“You like it?” Jo asks.

I meet her eyes in the rearview mirror and smile. “It’s perfect.”

She puts the car in park and glances at Mom for a second before looking at me again. “I fixed one of the guest rooms up for you so you’ll have some privacy while you’re here. I remember what it was like being a teenager. And your mom told me you like your space. Hopefully you can call it your home away from home for a while.” She gives me a wink before she gets out.

I open the door and step outside as well, breathing in the salty air. It’s strange and different from what I’m used to back home, but right and wonderful at the same time. This is where I’m supposed to be right now and I’m so happy I came.

Palm trees peak around the edge of the house and I have the sudden desire to climb one. I breathe in the ocean air again and grin. For some reason I feel lighter than before. Like all my troubles will magically melt away the moment I step into that beautiful house. But as memories of the past few weeks slam into me again, I realize the depressing fact that fantasy never wins over reality. Even when it should.

We unload our bags and I follow Jo and Mom up the front steps. Jo opens the door and Mom steps back so I can go in first. My jaw drops as I look around.

The inside is gorgeous. Sunlight spills in through the windows, making it almost as bright as outside. The rooms are open. Not stuffy or crowded, but roomy. I’m surprised by Jo’s color choice. The furniture is white, with yellow flowers and throw pillows to accent the living room. A perfect choice for a house like this.

I drop my bags near the door for a moment and take my time walking around the front room, admiring the little seashells accenting the tables. Of course they’re not plastic. They’re very real, and that makes me happy.

Mom’s heels click on the white tile floor and echo through the house. She turns around and smiles. “Jo, I love it,” she says. “It’s amazing.”

“Thanks. It was a bunch of work fixing it up, but I think it turned out nicely.” Jo smiles and turns to me. “Your room is the last one on the left if you want to check it out.”

I grab my bags as I make my way down the hall and open my bedroom door. My eyes widen as I see how big it is. A bed dominates most of the room, with a dresser and mirror across from it. The same sort of decorations are in here as well. Seashells on the glass nightstand near the bed and a few pictures of the ocean hung up on the walls. I throw my backpack on the ground and set my guitar on the bed. My fingers skim the pretty white bedspread. It’s not quite my style, since my room back home is decorated with orange, pink, and lime green, but it works.

I glance around and notice a walk-in closet. Nice. Not that I have a ton of clothes, but still. My favorite part of the room is the French doors that lead outside to a small covered patio. I peek out the window and grin. There’s a hammock and lounge chair and a huge swimming pool. It’s nice and blue. Clean. I wonder if Jo has a pool man, since she obviously makes a ton of money to live in a place like this.

I walk around for a while and go through the fence to the front yard. It’s surreal to be so close to the ocean. My feet start walking on their own and I cross the street and head toward the sand and waves. My first time ever at a beach, and I’ve heard Huntington is really nice.

My flip-flops are covered in sand so I slip them off. I smile at the feel of the sand between my toes. Again, I feel safe. Free. Ready for a new beginning.

The beach is different than I imagined. In all the pictures I’ve seen, there are always a ton of people lying on the sand, tanning. I look around. There aren’t a lot of people out at all. At least not today. An older couple sits a few yards away under big umbrellas. The lady is reading a book and the man I assume is her husband is taking a nap. A few people are playing volleyball further down the beach and there are some surfers bobbing in the water.

It’s like heaven. I walk until I feel the icy ocean water touch my feet. It sends a little shock through my body, but I don’t care. It’s awesome. After a few minutes of watching the tiny waves roll up around my ankles while my feet sink into the mud, I walk back up the beach and sit down in the sand. It’s warm, but a cool breeze caresses my skin. Fascinated, I watch the waves crash into the beach and the surfers riding them so effortlessly.

I sink my toes deeper into the sand and smile. I think I’m going to like it here.

CHAPTER 3

Mom wakes me from a deep sleep. I know it’s her by the way she rubs little circles on my back. My mind is fuzzy, but I manage a groan and roll over in an attempt to get away from her. She lets out a soft sigh. “Oakley, wake up. I need to talk to you,” she says.

“Leave me alone,” I whisper.

It’s been two days since we got here. Two days, and all I’ve done is lie in my room staring at the wall. The reality of losing Lucas has settled around me like a dark, suffocating cloud and won’t let me go. I know I’m suffering from some kind of depression but the thought of doing something about it makes me tired. I can’t handle a shrink right now.

Mom keeps rubbing my back but I ignore her. Last night was the first time I slept all night. I haven’t slept well since Lucas was admitted to the hospital. It feels like forever ago. I close my eyes again, trying to remember the dream I was having. It was a good dream. I remember feeling happy.

“Please, Oakley. Just look at me for a second.”

I let out an annoyed breath and roll to face her. Her dark eyes are worried, like she’s afraid if she looks away, I’ll disappear or something. “I told you last night, I’m fine. I’m just catching up on some sleep.”

“No, it’s not about that. I have something for you.”

“What?”

She bites her lip. “Honey,” she says. Her voice shakes and I sit up, wondering why she sounds so nervous. “I . . . um . . .” There’s a small notebook in her hand and she hands it to me. “Lucas asked me to give this to you. Before he died.” Her voice shakes on the last word.

I freeze. “What is it?”

She shrugs. “It’s for you. He wanted you to read it.”

I take it. It’s one of those black-and-white composition notebooks that I used in a few classes at school. My name is written on the front in his handwriting. I run my fingertips over it, not sure if I want to open it and read the contents. I’m still feeling so many emotions and if this is his journal about the last days of his life or something . . . I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.

“Have you—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t looked at it.”

“Oh.” I believe her, but for some reason it makes me more nervous. Why would he leave something like this just for me? Did he have some deep, dark secrets he was keeping and wanted to tell me them after he died? And why did Mom give it to me now? “How long have you had this?”

“I’ve had it since the funeral. Or . . . a few days before, I guess. He told me to give it to you after you had some time to . . .” She swallows and looks away. “Anyway. I’ll leave you alone.” Mom steps away from me, her eyes on the notebook. She looks sad. Her fingers drum on the door-frame a second before she grabs the doorknob. “Jo and I are going to run to the store. We won’t be gone long.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You sure you’ll be okay without me?” Her voice sounds far away as I stare at the notebook I’m clutching.

I tear my gaze away from my name and look at her. “I’ll be fine, Mom.” I smile to make her believe me and she nods and closes the door. I look back at the notebook. I’m intrigued and scared at the same time.

My hands are shaking. I’m still not sure I can handle what’s written inside. I have to know, though, so I take a deep breath and flip it open. The letter on the first page is in his handwriting as well. I always made fun of him for writing in all capital letters. I think it’s a guy thing because Dad does it too.

DEAR OAKLEY,

THAT SOUNDS SO FORMAL, DOESN'T IT?

I laugh. Lucas wasn’t formal at all.

TODAY WE FOUND OUT MY CANCER IS TERMINAL. YOU TOOK IT WAY HARDER THAN ME. I KNEW IT WAS COMING, BUT I THINK YOU STILL HAD HOPE THAT I’D BEAT THIS. I’M SORRY YOU WERE SO UPSET. YOU KNOW I WOULD CHANGE THINGS IF I COULD. WHICH IS IMPOSSIBLE, BUT YOU KNOW I’D TRY.

ANYWAY. I’VE DECIDED TO DO SOMETHING FOR YOU. IF YOU’RE READING THIS, I’M ALREADY GONE. I KNEW YOU’D HAVE A HARD TIME WITH ME DYING. PROBABLY MORE THAN ANYONE. DON’T LIE AND SAY YOU’RE FINE. I KNOW YOU BETTER THAN THAT.

THE REASON I’M WRITING THIS NOTEBOOK IS SO YOU CAN HAVE A PIECE OF ME WITH YOU ALL THE TIME. IT’S LAME, BUT IT’S SOMETHING, RIGHT? YOU CAN READ IT ALL RIGHT NOW, OR YOU CAN READ ONE ENTRY EVERY DAY. IT’S SORT OF LIKE A JOURNAL, BUT MOSTLY MY STUPID RANDOM THOUGHTS. I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER THE GOOD THINGS. THE IMPORTANT THINGS. ME. HOPEFULLY SOME OF MY THOUGHTS WILL MAKE SENSE. ACTUALLY, OF COURSE THEY WILL. YOU KNOW HOW AWESOME I AM.

ANYWAY. I LOVE YOU, OAKLEY. IF THERE IS ONE THING I WANT YOU TO KNOW, THAT’S IT. YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND AND I’LL MISS YOU MORE THAN WORDS CAN SAY.

STAY STRONG.

LOVE, LUCAS

My eyes burn but I manage to hold back my emotions. Lucas always knows what to say. Always. Even when he isn’t here anymore.

I look around my temporary room with a sense of longing. I don’t have anyone to talk to. No one to call. It’s the first time I realize I’m totally alone. My parents don’t seem to want to talk to me about anything, my friends abandoned me back home—or I guess I abandoned them—and Lucas is gone. I have no one to turn to. No one. And it hurts so much it takes my breath away. I close my eyes and try to get hold of myself. It’s hard, but I manage.

My fingers tremble as I close the notebook. I’ll read one entry every day. I don’t want to waste the whole thing in one sitting because I want to savor each word and phrase. I put it under my pillow for later.

My stomach growls but I ignore it and go sit on my porch swing outside. I take a deep breath. I can’t get over how good the salty air smells. It calms me.

It’s early Thursday morning but as I walk around to the front yard there are a lot of people already on the boardwalk. I sit on the porch and watch them riding bikes, Rollerblading, and running. I didn’t know people still went Rollerblading. It seems so long ago since I tried. I still remember Rollerblading with Lucas at the neighbor’s house when we were little. They had a big driveway and we would pretend we were professional ice-skaters. I’m sure we looked ridiculous but we didn’t care.

I look past the people on the boardwalk and I’m surprised I can see a bunch of surfers in the water, even from where I sit.

Intrigued, and admittedly tired of lying around, I decide to go take some pictures and grab my camera bag and a beach blanket before heading across the street.

The sand is warm between my toes as I stroll toward the waves. I stop a few yards from the water and spread my blanket out, stretch my legs in front of me, and sit back and watch the show.