The Way We Fall (15 page)

You know how people in books and movies make deathbed confessions? They realize they’re about to go, and they just have to get those long-held secrets out while they still can.

I’ve been thinking about that, since I don’t have a whole lot to do other than think—and cough and sneeze and try not to scratch any one spot too much. Dad offered to keep me company the way he did with Mom, said we could play cards or something. But every time I look into his eyes it’s like I can see his heart breaking no matter what face he puts on, and it reminds me of what’s going to happen to me, and mine breaks too. I know he wants to be with Mom at the hospital, and doing more research, and a lot of things more important than playing cards. So I told him I’d rather be by myself, and he’s mostly let me.

At least his meds are helping keep the fever down. And he must have given me something to help me stay calm. I feel a little woozy. Like I’m not totally here.

But, getting to the point, I was wondering whether there was anything I should tell Dad, or Drew, or Meredith, before I can’t control what I’m saying anymore. And there isn’t. Not that I’ve been totally honest with them my whole life, but I haven’t hidden anything big.

The only real secret I’ve kept has to do with you, Leo. I’ve been holding on to it so long, I haven’t even wanted to write it down. But I might not get another chance.

It happened the summer I was fourteen, before I started high school in Toronto, before we had our fight and stopped talking. Dad and Mom and Drew and I were visiting the island for a week, like we had every July after we moved. The last day of the trip, you came over and we went down to West Beach, eating homemade blueberry ice cream from the Camerons’ shop and ambling along the sand. A totally normal day.

Around dinnertime, I said I should head back. As we were walking down the street, there was a kid riding his bike up and down the road, the training wheels rattling away. I wonder if you even remember that?

He passed us a couple times, and then he braked a little ways ahead of us and narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve seen you around before,” he said to you. “Shouldn’t you be living in China?”

He hadn’t even looked at me, but I stiffened up right away. You just cocked your head and shrugged.

“Nah,” you said, like it was no big deal, and held up a finger. “First, I was born in Korea, not China.” Another finger. “Second, my parents wanted me
so much
they went all the way over there to get me, which I think was a pretty good reason to come back with them.” One more finger. “Third, how old are you?”

“Six,” the kid said, wide-eyed.

“Well, there you go,” you said, smiling. “I’ve been an islander more than twice as long as you!”

So many people must have treated you like you didn’t belong here, for you to come up with an answer that good, that you could roll off your tongue in a second. So many times you must have had to pretend you didn’t care. But right then, all I saw was how cool and confident you were. The way you always were. The way I pretty much never was, no matter how much I wanted to be. I’d seen it thousands of times before, of course. But this time, as I stood there looking at you, it made me want to kiss you.

Maybe the moment would have passed, just a brief urge that seemed ridiculous a minute later. Except then the kid looked at me and said, “So what country are
you
from?”

“Um,” I said. “I’m not. I mean, I was born here.”

“And if I had my way, you’d quit leaving,” you said to me, like the kid wasn’t even there, and you grabbed my hand. I let you pull me past him because the second your fingers brushed against mine, every other thought emptied out of my head. My face got hot, and I was afraid to look at you the whole way back to Uncle Emmett’s house, in case you’d notice.

I don’t think you did. You let go of my hand when we got there and gave me a quick hug good-bye and told me to write and call lots when I was back in Toronto, the same as always. But everything was different for me. I didn’t want to let you go. I wanted to believe your heart skipped a little when you looked back at me one last time before you went around the corner, like mine did. When I got on the ferry that evening, I felt like something inside me was tearing, knowing it’d be months before I had a chance to see you again. And the feeling never went away, not when we got to Toronto, not when we moved back here.

I wanted you to be more than my best friend.

Maybe if I hadn’t felt that way, we wouldn’t have had the fight to begin with. But hanging on the fringes in that enormous high school while all the city kids gossiped and laughed and flirted, I started to wonder if you could ever fall for a sort of weird, kind of awkward girl like me. Every time I complained about them to you, I wanted you to tell me I was fine the way I was, that they were just boring snobs. Which is why it hurt so much when you said it was my fault I didn’t fit in.

Maybe if my feelings were less confused I would have called you up the next time we came to visit. But the thought of hearing your voice made my stomach do somersaults, and I chickened out, telling myself you should be the one to apologize first.

And maybe if I’d gotten over it, we could have made up right after I moved back. I knew we had to talk. But I walked up to the school my first day back and there you were on the steps, your arm around Tessa’s shoulders, your head bent so close to hers your faces were almost touching. And the little piece of hope I’d been holding on to died. I couldn’t even look at you. Every time you glanced my way, I pretended I couldn’t see you. Every class we shared, I sat at the opposite end of the room. Like the ten years we were best friends had never happened.

I’m sorry for making you think I must have hated you when you hadn’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry for all the petty thoughts I had about Tessa. And I’m especially sorry you’ll never get this apology. You’re going to spend the rest of your life believing our friendship meant nothing to me, when really the problem was I cared too much.

Drew brought me some chicken soup for lunch a little while ago, but instead of setting the bowl down and leaving, he hesitated on the other side of the door. I waited for the creak of the floor to tell me he’d gone. It didn’t come.

“I’m not letting you in,” I said.

“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to—”

His voice cut off awkwardly, and for a minute he was silent. I could feel his presence through the door. His head would be tipped forward, his jaw clenched.

“I acted like it was wrong to be scared,” he said. “I encouraged you to get involved, to go out there.”

My chest got tight. “Don’t,” I said.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t try to make this your fault,” I said. “It’s not.”

“But—” he started, and I didn’t let him go any further.

“You know what probably happened?” I said. “How I caught it? I’ve worked it out. I went to the hospital when Mom first got sick, to find Dad, and I was there without a mask. And when Mom came downstairs the other day, when she wasn’t thinking straight anymore, I didn’t have my mask on then either. Those are the only times I’ve been near anyone sick in weeks. And neither of them were because of you or anything you’ve said, Drew.”

He paused for another few seconds, and then he said, “I was trying to get all of us out of this safe. That’s all I wanted.”

“I know,” I said. “Me too.”

He left, and I brought in the soup, but I haven’t got an appetite anymore. It’s sitting on the desk, getting cold.

Maybe if I’d picked up my mask before I ran off to the hospital that day. Maybe if Dad had thought to lock Mom in her room before she started wandering. I could blame any of us. But what’s the point? None of it changes where I am now.

I started reading the third act of
Hamlet
, and I got about two pages in when I realized there’s no point.

I am never going back to school.

I am never going to university.

I am never going to watch wolves stalk through the northern forests or elephants graze the savanna. I am never going to have sex or get married or raise a family. I’m never going to have a first apartment, a first house, a first car. I’m never

I’ve found the trick to staying sane. Just don’t think about it. Play games and watch videos on the computer, tussle with Mowat and Fossey, re-read my favorite books one last time, and
just don’t think
.

The meds Dad’s bringing are helping. Sometimes I feel like my head is floating off somewhere near the ceiling. I’m not sneezing as much as before, which is nice. Nothing left to worry about except the ferrets, so I made Drew promise he’d look after them.

Everything taken care of.

Writing makes me think too much. Back to the computer.

No one will talk to me. Why won’t anyone talk to me? It’s like they’ve all gone off and left me here. That would be horrible. It has to be child abuse or something if you leave a teenager with no one to talk to except for her journal, doesn’t it?

You’d think at least my friends would come over to see if I’m okay. Oh wait. Rachel can’t come, she’s dead. That was dumb. Well maybe Mackenzie will. She could be a good friend sometimes, when she wasn’t obsessing about how much cooler she is than everyone else on the island, I mean. Does she know I’m stuck here? I couldn’t tell her because of the stupid phones getting broken. She really should come and take me out to L.A. with her. I’ll meet all the movie stars. What do I need Mom and Dad and Drew for, anyway? Drew has all his plans and Dad does all his medical stuff. They think they’re so brilliant, but did either of them manage to get rid of the virus? Nope. I don’t need any of them. I should have hopped on the ferry when I could and

Dad brought me lunch. Or maybe that was dinner. Mac and cheese! I told him he should stay and have lunch or dinner or whatever it was with me and he sat for a while, but he has that stupid plastic coat that squeaks whenever he moves and that stupid white thing on his face so I can’t even see his mouth moving when he’s talking, which is really creepy. I told him I wanted him to talk to me without it and he said then he’d have to leave the room, and I told him how stupid that was and then he got kind of upset and left. What the hell Dad? I wanted to go out and see what’s up with Meredith but he’s gone and locked me in here. My own dad! I yelled and yelled for someone to help me open it but no one’s listening and no one cares and the window is here but it’s too high up to jump. I wonder if there’s

Hey! I saw someone in the backyard across from ours! I opened the window and tried to talk to her but she got a funny look on her face and went into her house, which is very rude don’t you think? I mean I just wanted to talk. It’s awful being alone in here. Why is everyone being so horrible to me? What did I do wrong?

Funny when I first saw that woman I thought it was Tessa except she was too old and it wasn’t even the right hair color it was brown not red. I couldn’t really see well until I got the window open. Not that Tessa would come anyway. She never liked me really I know that she doesn’t like anyone. She just wanted someone to find the dead bodies in houses for her right we saw that hell yes. Would you still want to be her boyfriend if you knew that Leo? She lied to you about what was happening on the island and I would never have lied to you. I don’t see

* * *

Why did you go anyway? The one thing I really missed on this awful island was you and you had to go and leave me here with no one. I miss you. If you come back I absolutely promise I will forgive you for every