Seven Weeks to Forever, page 16
“I love you, too,” I tell him, once I can form words again. I lower my hands, rubbing my thumbs along the backs of his fingers.
He pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head and then my eyebrow. I close my eyes before he kisses each eyelid, then feel him brush his lips against the tip of my nose. Unable to wait any longer, I move my head and capture his mouth with mine. His arms slide around my body. I feel myself easing backward, effortlessly, until I’m on my back against the sofa cushions and he’s above me, his body pressed against mine. His lips move down to the hollow of my throat, my shoulder, and finally, my collarbone. He lingers there for a few seconds and then brings his mouth back up to find mine again.
For the first time since I left The Life-After, I think I know what it’s like to be truly alive.
Chapter Eighteen
I wake up to rays of sunshine pouring through the window of Riley’s bedroom. We fell asleep here together last night, and I realize that I’m going to look like a complete mess when I get up. My clothes are wrinkled from sleeping in them and I know my slept-on hair is probably sticking out everywhere. It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m here right now with Riley’s arms around me, feeling his chest rise and fall with the even breath of sleep. I wonder if he’ll keep his arms around me when he wakes up.
I move my head a little bit so I can see his face. He looks peaceful, his lips parted just slightly and his eyelashes resting against his cheeks. I tune in to his energy and see the same deep pink and golden sparks that I did last night. They’re more brilliant now than they were then, which I hadn’t thought possible.
He stirs and then his eyes open. A sleepy smile appears on his face when he sees me and he closes his eyes again, holding me a little tighter. He buries his head in the back of my hair and I feel the familiar tingle of our energy connecting. He’s here to stay, I know, and I wish I was staying, too.
Don’t think about that now, I tell myself. A soft kiss on my shoulder pulls me back into this moment, and I’m grateful.
“You look so serious. What are you thinking about?” His voice is still hoarse from sleep.
“Coffee,” I murmur. He laughs, and the sound of it makes me feel warm everywhere. I shift my body so I’m facing him. “That can wait for a bit, though.”
“You’re sure about that? Coffee is pretty serious business.” He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek.
“Shhh.” I put a finger against his lips and he smiles, pulling me close again.
“I can’t see the clock from here. Do you know what time it is?”
I raise my head to look at the clock on his bedside table. “Almost seven-thirty.”
It’s no wonder both of us are still sleepy, given that we fell asleep sometime after two o’clock in the morning. I settle my head against the pillow and notice his smile start to fade.
“Now you’re the one who looks serious,” I tell him. “What are you thinking about?”
“Work.” He wrinkles his nose. “I’m supposed to be at the studio today. Do you think my mom will go for it if I call in sick?”
He pretends to cough. It’s the worst fake cough I’ve ever heard. I giggle and shake my head.
“No, huh? There goes my acting career.”
“Better stick to writing,” I tease him, kissing his nose.
“How about this?” I feel his mouth tug on my lower lip. My hands make their way up his back until they’re in his hair. He covers my mouth with his and I feel our bodies press closer, our legs tangling together.
“Mmm.” He slowly moves his mouth away from mine. I can tell he doesn’t want to.
“Definitely keep doing that,” I manage to say, even though I’m so light-headed that I don’t think I can move. “Please practice a lot.”
“Oh yeah?” He bends his head over mine and kisses me again, this time until I really think the world is spinning. I feel his fingers play at the hem of my shirt, and then the warmth of his palm against my skin. His hand inches upward and his kiss gets hungrier. My breath catches when I feel his thumb stroke the curve of my chest and even though it probably isn’t possible, I try to pull him closer against me. His mouth moves away from mine and when I feel his breath tickle my face, I realize it’s because he’s laughing.
“What’s funny?” I open my eyes.
He shakes his head. "Not funny. Just amazing." His head dips down to kiss the side of my neck. His lips move to my earlobe, sending a flutter through my body.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” I murmur. He doesn’t answer me with words, but releases my earlobe and brings his mouth to my eyebrow and then to the tip of my nose. I tilt my head up, trying to bring my lips to his. He hovers as close as he can without touching, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
“What do you want me to do to you right now?” he asks.
What a question. My mind takes off with about a million possibilities and my face must show it because Riley chuckles again, moving ever-so-slightly closer to touch his lips to mine. This kiss is gentle.
“It might be a good thing that I have to get up for work,” he says when we break apart. “Keeps me responsible.” I can tell from the face he makes that it’s the last thing he wants to be, but he’s right. I force my breath to slow down.
“Should I let you get ready?” I ask.
He squeezes my shoulder and nods. The look of little-boy regret on his face makes me giggle. I can tell he wants to continue where we just left off, but he forces himself to get out of bed.
He makes both of us scrambled eggs and toast before letting me leave. I feel like I’m floating on air after kissing him goodbye and walking to my car.
I get into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. Then I stop. I don’t know why, but something makes me turn my head and look at the house across the street. Selena’s house.
There’s nobody standing in the driveway this time. I don’t even see a car parked outside. The curtains on all of the windows are closed. There’s no reason I should be watching the house. It’s like I’m waiting for the front door to open and for Selena to appear. I should just turn the key, start my car, and go home.
But I can’t. Maybe it’s the sleep I didn’t have last night, or some sort of energy hangover from the hours next to Riley. Maybe it’s something else. The conversation I had with Amarleen plays in my mind while I watch the house. Live from a place of love.
I open the glove compartment and reach inside, pulling out the first piece of paper I see. The white feather I put in there weeks ago falls out and flutters to the floor of my car. I let it stay where it lands and dig through my purse until I find a pen. Then I hold the piece of paper against the car door window while I scribble the only words I can think to say.
Dear Selena,
I’m sorry.
- Cassidy
Five words. I don’t know what they’ll do, or if they’ll do anything. I know I have to say them, though, and that it has to be now and it has to be here, while I’m still in The Before.
I open my car door and get out, quickly checking for traffic before running across the street. I feel my heart pounding as I get closer to the mailbox, open the lid, and drop the note inside. Then I run down the driveway and back across the street to my car before I can change my mind.
* * *
I pull into my driveway about half an hour later. My heart isn’t going crazy like it was when I left the note for Selena, but the late night and the early morning are catching up with me. I turn off the ignition, then lean back to rest my head against the seat and close my eyes. I’ll just stay here for a couple of minutes, and then I’ll go inside.
A light tap on my windshield makes me open one eye a few seconds later. I look at the glass in front of me, wondering what’s fallen on it. I expect to see a leaf or maybe a twig, but that’s not what’s on my windshield at all. It’s a white feather. It looks identical to the one that’s on the floor of my car.
I still have no idea who the feathers are from, or what they mean. I stare at the feather on my windshield until I’m jarred out of my thoughts by the sound of my cell phone ringing. Maybe it’s because I’m sleepy and still feel like I’m floating, or maybe it’s because I assume it’s Riley calling me, but I answer it without looking at the screen.
“Hey you,” I greet him.
“Hello.” My phone starts to slide past my fingers and I fumble to catch it before it falls to the floor. It’s not Riley.
“Aunt Sarah,” I pause. “Um, hi.”
Hearing my aunt’s voice is the last thing I expected. My mouth clamps shut, even though I have dozens of questions running through my mind.
“Is everything all right?” she asks, after what feels like more than a minute of silence on the line.
“Uh, yeah. I was just about to ask you the same thing.” I have to wonder if I’m dreaming this. The way we left things when I kicked her out of my house, I was pretty sure I’d never be talking to her again.
“Your uncle is in surgery all day and asked me to check in with you, so...” her voice trails off.
“You can tell him that I’m fine.”
More silence. I look out the car window, hoping either to be inspired for something that I can say, or for something I can use as an excuse to get off the phone.
“Look, the way we left things…” my aunt lets her voice trail off again, as though she expects me to say something. She’s probably waiting for an apology.
“You mean the way you tried to boss me around in my own house and then force me to get on a plane with you?” I correct her. “The way you’re trying to make me to go to college somewhere because it’s some sort of family tradition, rather than what I want?”
She takes a breath, then exhales. “I think your uncle and I are both having trouble understanding what it is you want.”
“To be in L.A. Is that so hard to understand?”
“For that boy who was at your house?”
“No,” I tell her, but she clearly isn’t listening because she interrupts me.
“We don’t even know anything about him or what you’re doing there, and you expect us to be okay with a sudden change in your college plans?”
I grit my teeth. “What I’m doing here is living my life. And as for that boy, his name is Riley. He’s a journalism student at USC. He also writes novels and is working on one now. But that’s not what you want to know, is it? You’re probably more interested in what his parents do, where they live, and what their social status and income is. Am I right?”
“I actually just wanted to know if you’re happy.”
I freeze. She sounds serious. I know I should say something, but I can’t.
“I know you think I’m an ogre, but I’m not.” Her words are quiet and I hold my breath, straining to hear her.
“I don’t—” I start my weak protest, but she keeps talking.
“I made a promise after your mother died that I would take care of you and keep you safe. I promised I’d protect you from harm in a way that I couldn’t protect your mother. Seeing you take off for California and then change your mind about going to Harvard was like watching history repeat itself. I’ve been overbearing, but keeping you sheltered from a lot of the dangers in the world was the only way I knew how to keep my promise. I hope you know that.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s probably the first time I’ve said those words to her.
There’s a pause. She’s probably as stunned to hear those words from me as I am to have said them.
“I see so much of your mother in you,” she says after a moment.
Aunt Sarah rarely talks about my mother. The only times I’ve heard her mentioned was during conversations I was never supposed to hear about how she was the black sheep, and how if she’d never left Boston to move to California, then she’d never have met and married my father. That she’d still be alive if she’d been mature enough to not play the rebel. Of course my aunt couldn’t know that my mother had to go, or that she was always supposed to meet up with my father. She doesn’t know that their end together was their return to where they’d come from, or that where my mother went is where my aunt will also be one day. Only then will she understand what it all was for.
“I know you never approved of my mother leaving the world she was born into, just like you don’t approve of me being here,” I tell my aunt. I speak quickly so she can’t interrupt me. “You don’t run everyone’s lives, though. You can’t. Everyone has their own destiny.”
There’s silence on my aunt’s end of the line. I expect a tirade to come next, or maybe even the click of the line going dead, since she’s never been good with anything she sees as defiance.
“I know.” The two softly spoken words nearly make me drop the phone again.
“You know?” I repeat.
“I do.”
There’s silence again, until my aunt speaks. “So back to your young man.”
“Riley.”
“Riley,” she repeats. “Do you think he’d like to join us for dinner sometime, if your uncle and I come out for a visit?”
“A visit, or another kidnapping expedition?”
“A visit,” she replies.
I’m quiet for a few seconds, trying to let her words sink in. My aunt sounds like she’s actually giving in and accepting my decision. I was always certain that if something like this ever happened, it would surely be a sign of the coming apocalypse.
“I’ll ask him,” I finally say.
“It’s just that—” She pauses and I can tell she’s struggling with what to say. “I just always wanted to be a writer,” she finishes. Her words tumble out and echo in my mind. This can’t possibly be coming from the Aunt Sarah I know.
Maybe you don’t know her like you think you do, I hear Noah say.
“I’d like to talk to him about his novels, if he doesn’t mind,” my aunt continues. “There are a few stories I put away in a drawer years ago, and I think I’d like to take them out again.”
“You write?” I hope my words don’t sound as shocked as I feel. Novel writing has never really seemed as high up there for my aunt as classical piano lessons and being the center of a ladies’ social circle.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. That’s probably my fault.”
“I’d like to know more about your writing and whatever else you want to tell me about.” My voice is barely audible, even to me.
Across the miles that separate us, I’m sure I feel her smile. It’s the best conversation we’ve had since she and my uncle took me in after my parents were gone. I know she won’t get the chance to tell me about her ambitions, her younger life, or her dreams and where they went until decades from now, when she leaves this phase of life for The Life-After. When she gets there, she’ll tell me, and I’ll be able to tell her what this life was really for.
It doesn’t seem fair that all of this is going to end just as we’re making this most tentative of connections. But there’s nothing either of us can do to change it.
We hang up a couple of minutes later. My eyes go to the windshield in front of me and I look outside for a few minutes. I try not to think about how soon I’m going to be gone, or about all the things I won’t get to say until those who are left here join me. It will be like the blink of an eye for me, but it will be years for them. I wish there was a way to make what’s coming easier for my aunt and uncle, and for Riley. Most of all, I wish I could let them know that everything is going to happen exactly the way it’s supposed to.
Chapter Nineteen
Countdown to The Life-After: one week.
I think I’m in for a night of video games and Scrabble when Riley texts me to ask if he can come over. So when he parks his car in my driveway but leaves the engine idling, then gets out and walks up to my door, I’m a little confused.
“It’s been a couple of years since driver’s ed, but I’m pretty sure that even in California, you’re supposed to turn the car off after—”
He presses a finger to my lips, cutting off the rest of my words. Then he lifts his finger away and leans in to kiss me. I feel his hand circle my waist and he pulls me in close to him.
“Smart aleck,” he tells me, when we break apart a minute later. “But an adorable one.”
“You know, normally I don’t like being interrupted mid-sentence, but—” And then his hands are cradling my face, his mouth covering mine again. He inches forward until we’re as close as two people could be. My back presses against the wall and my arms wrap around him, somehow trying to squeeze him even more tightly against me even though there’s no space between us. I have no idea how we’re going to do anything tonight if this is what happens when I talk, but I’m not complaining. Not at all.
“You were saying?” He has the biggest, goofiest grin on his face, which just makes me want to kiss him again. I gulp for air, my breath coming in uneven bursts. I can’t help but grin back once I start to breathe normally again. There are goose bumps all over my arms, and I swear even my hair has started tingling.
“Mmm, I was saying…” I blink hard, trying to clear my mind of the haze brought on by the feeling of his lips and his body pressed against me. From the look on his face, I can see I’m not alone. I have to move my eyes away from him to focus. When I see his car still idling in the driveway, I remember.
“Your car,” I say. “It’s still running.”
“Then we’d better catch it,” he teases, that heart-melting grin on his face again.
“Hmm?” I find myself swaying toward him but make myself stop. We’re going to get a conversation in here, or at least I think we are. Unless I keep kissing him.
Conversation is overrated, my mind chimes in. I try to argue the point with myself, but come up with nothing. I think the tingling has short-circuited my brain.
