Seven Weeks to Forever, page 18
“She left us,” Riley keeps saying. I see his mom sitting on a chair, watching him. Deep worry lines are etched across her face. She gets up from the chair and reaches her arms out for her granddaughter.
The image fades and now I’m watching someone’s funeral. Is it mine? I try to get a closer look at the casket at the front of the room. The first thing I see is a man’s suit jacket, then a sandy-blond head.
It’s not me inside the casket. It’s Riley.
Like scattered puzzle pieces coming together, it all starts to make sense. I stayed here in The Before, but met my end in a way similar to what I imagine happened to David. I simply disappeared without explanation, The Life-After catching up with me after I broke one of the rules to make sure I couldn’t interfere in anyone else’s fate. And what David’s disappearance did to me when I was Anna, ending in my cosmic accident, is what my disappearance would do to Riley. I don’t know what losing both of her parents would do to our daughter, and it’s not something my heart can handle seeing right now. I open my eyes and look at Noah.
“What happens if I go?” I whisper.
“You already know,” he answers. “It’s the reason you’re here.”
“I want to see it.” It’s more than a want. It’s as though I need to see Riley’s future playing out in front of me so I can know that he’ll be happy and successful. I want to see that he’ll do incredible, beautiful things. If I can see it and hold the vision with me, then maybe this won’t be so hard.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told. Within seconds, images that look like still photographs flash by, one after another. There’s a book signing, first. Riley’s at a table, surrounded by a mob of people. In the next image, he looks like he’s receiving some type of award. After that there’s a benefit concert where he’s singing into a microphone, with John behind him on stage. It’s followed by a series of dinners and fundraisers with politicians and celebrities. Then he’s on another stage at a podium, speaking at an event with thousands of people. The banners tell me it’s for a humanitarian charity.
The images fade out and I see him inside of a beautiful house. From the view that’s outside of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can tell he’s high up in the Hollywood Hills. He looks content, his arm around another little girl who appears to be about three or four years old.
She doesn’t look like the girl in my vision of the two of us, but I can tell this is his daughter. He’s reading to her, and there’s delight all over her face. Pure joy and love are written across his.
He looks up from the book for a moment, his eyes moving to the doorway of the room. What he sees there makes his eyes light up even more. I try to follow his gaze and think I see a woman standing in the doorway who must be his wife, but the scene fades away before I can make out what she looks like. Then Noah is standing in front of me again.
“He stays happy?” I ask. “He has a good life?” I already know the answer to both questions.
Noah nods. “He has the life he’s supposed to. It’s all because you opened his heart to love again.”
“What happens after I’m gone, though? He doesn’t close off again?” I know the answer to this, too, but for some reason I need to ask.
“No. He’s filled with grief at first, of course, because he doesn’t know what’s next for you. From that grief, though, will come something he writes in your memory. The book will lead him to meet his wife and will also start his rise to fame. It will only take a few months from the time you return to The Life-After for him to cross paths with the woman he’ll marry. His energy will connect with hers, and that connection will stay and strengthen. He’ll know that he has to see her again, and then that she’s the one for him.”
It’s hard not to flinch at the thought of Riley marrying someone else. I try to hide it, but it doesn’t work. Noah takes another step closer to me, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“I can’t stop you from making your own choice, but I’m asking you to let yourself be guided by love. Don’t make a choice based on selfishness or fear.”
“Are you going to boost me?” I ask, staring at the floor. I can’t look at him.
“Not tonight.”
I raise my head, not sure I’m hearing him correctly. I can feel how low my energy is now, and I’m sure Noah can sense it, too. I have to be close to blacking out.
“I can’t force you back to The Life-After, so there’s no point in me boosting you now. If you choose not to connect tonight, your energy will probably get so low that you won’t be able to connect again even if you want to. This is your decision to make.”
I sink down onto the sofa, watching him disappear from the room. I know that he isn’t kidding. It’s especially important for me to raise my energy now, so I can be ready for what’s supposed to happen in two days. I also have the choice to sever that connection and stay until The Life-After catches up with me and banishes me from existence. Just like David.
Staying means having a chance I didn’t have in my time here as Anna, though. I’ll have the time to explore a love unlike anything I’ve ever had, even if it’s only for a little while. If I stay, I’ll feel Riley’s arms around me again and see his smile. The kisses we’ll share when I see him tomorrow won’t be our last. Thinking about leaving knocks the air right out of my lungs.
But I know what’s waiting for me in The Life-After. I know what I’d tell everyone here in The Before, if I could. That The Life-After is the next phase, and it’s filled with a love that’s even brighter than anyone could imagine. That leaving The Before isn’t an ending at all, but a beginning. There’s no reason to be sad, or to mourn or grieve. There’s no loss, only gain and a lot to celebrate. I recite this to myself, but it doesn’t make it easier.
I know that if I stay, I’ll ruin Riley’s chance at an easy transition to The Life-After. When I disappear like David did — and everything Noah has shown me lets me know that I will — Riley’s time here in The Before will be beyond repair. He’ll be devastated, beyond the help of anyone, and he’ll have to die. Our daughter will know the kind of pain that no little girl should ever have to know. Two lives will be left in shambles, and Riley will be forced to come back as a second-timer, all because I made a choice to stay and experience this kind of romantic love for a few more years.
I know what interfering with fate can do. I can’t do that to Riley, no matter what the thought of returning to The Life-After is doing to me right now. Love means not ripping away the life and happiness someone else is destined for, even if it feels like it’s tearing my own heart into a million pieces.
I lean back against the sofa cushions, listening to the ticking of the clock. Then I close my eyes and connect to The Life-After.
Chapter Twenty-One
Countdown to The Life-After: one day.
I look at my hands and my arms, not sure what I expect to see. My skin is still the same pale shade it’s always been. I wiggle my fingers and then run them through my hair before dropping my arms at my sides. I’m here and I’m whole. No one would ever know by looking at me that I’m going to die in less than twenty-four hours. I keep scanning my body up and down, though, searching for some clue that could give everything away.
The only difference I’ve seen so far is in my energy. The spot that’s been dead for so long has had tiny threads of color running through it today, although I’m sure it’s something The Life-After is doing to help me get ready to go back. I haven’t asked Noah about it, because I’m not sure that it matters. That, and I’ve been too busy thinking about tonight to give it much thought.
Tonight is the last time I’ll see Riley here in The Before. I smooth a wrinkle in my dress and glance at myself in the mirror. The girl staring back looks nervous, and she jumps when the doorbell rings. I see myself shiver. There’s a full-blown swarm of butterflies in my stomach by the time I pull open the front door.
“Hi,” I say, my voice cracking on even that one syllable. My hands are trembling, I know, so I hide them behind my back. I take a step to the side so Riley can come in.
When he walks through the door, I notice the rose in his hand. He holds it out to me. I try to keep my hand steady when I take it from him.
“Thank you,” I say, barely able to put the two words together. When he leans in to kiss me and pulls me closer to him, I’m sure it has to be obvious that I’m shaking. Maybe he doesn’t notice, though, because he moves a hand up to my hair and twirls a strand of it around his finger. When I look at him, his eyes shining down at me, I know this is going to be the hardest couple of hours I’ve ever lived through.
He reaches down for the hand that’s not holding the rose. Our fingers entwined, I lead him into the kitchen where I’ve already started dinner.
“It smells good in here,” he says, sniffing the air. “Spaghetti?”
“Close,” I tell him. “Spaghetti squash.” He looks confused so I point at the yellow spaghetti squash that’s in a baking dish on the counter.
“We’re putting tomato sauce on that?” he asks. I can tell he’s not big on the idea.
“Have you ever had a spaghetti squash?” I ask.
“It’s a vegetable, right?”
“You do shop and cook for yourself, right?” I tease him, holding up the squash.
“Of course I do. I’m the king of mac and cheese and frozen pizza.”
I swat him. “Liar, you helped me chop up vegetables when we had lunch here.”
“That’s salad. Anyone can make a salad.”
“What have you lived on since moving out?” I challenge.
“Takeout and family dinners?” he asks, giving me his best lost-little-boy expression.
I look up at the ceiling. “Hopeless.”
He laughs, putting his arms around me. “Thank you for making dinner,” he says, burying his head in my hair. The number of butterflies in my stomach multiples by at least two hundred, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I swallow hard and concentrate on silently counting to ten, trying to get it together.
Once dinner is ready, we bring our plates to the living room and eat in front of the TV. When our plates are empty and our stomachs are full, we settle in against the sofa cushions, changing channels until we get to one that’s showing a movie. It takes me a minute before I realize we’re watching Ghost.
When I was Anna, I had friends who worked as extras on-set during the filming. I was in The Life-After by the time it hit the theaters, but I’ve seen it and I know what it’s about. I don’t know if Riley does, though, because I can’t see him being all that crazy over watching a movie about love that carries on after death.
“Have you seen this?” I ask him.
“Yeah.” There’s a far-off look in his eyes, and I wonder if this movie reminds him of Amanda. I do a quick check of his energy. It’s not retreating away from me or closing in around him. If anything, his energy is getting stronger as it stays connected with mine.
“Let’s watch something a little happier tonight,” I suggest, easing the remote control from his hand. I stop changing channels when I land on the first safe movie I see.
“Rock of Ages?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile.
“Humor me,” I say, leaning forward to put the remote down on the table. When I straighten up again, I snuggle into him, letting my head rest against his chest. He puts his arms around me, rubbing his thumb against the top of my hand.
I pretend to watch the movie until I feel Riley shift beside me, gently tugging on my hand as he lies down on his side. I think he means for me to lie against him, both of us facing the TV, but I turn around to face him instead. He looks at me and I bring both of my hands up to cradle his face. I move as close as I can to him and cover his mouth with mine.
I don’t know how many minutes pass while I kiss him. My hands move down to grip his shirt and I’m choking back tears again, along with a lump in my throat, when I realize this is the last time I’ll ever get to kiss him like this. I’m not sure how I’m going to let him go and so I kiss him harder, pulling the fabric of his shirt up and then bringing my lips to his stomach, touching them to his skin. Then his shirt is just gone and I’m leaving a trail of kisses from his navel to his neck, my mouth moving up to tug on his earlobe. He sucks in his breath and before I know it, I’m under him and he’s on top of me, his tongue dipping down into my mouth and his body against mine. I try to bring my arms around him but find them pinned down by my dress straps, which have dropped from my shoulders to my upper arms.
“Arms,” I say, when we come up for air.
He sits up, alarmed. “Did I put too much weight on you?” he asks.
“No, it’s my dress.” I reach for one of my wayward straps. “I couldn’t move my arms.”
He catches my fingers, moving them away from the strap. Then he reaches behind me and I feel the zipper of my dress slide open. He pauses.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. “Yes,” I whisper, slipping my arms out of the loosened dress and letting it fall to my waist. I could let it stay there, I know, but I don’t. My dress ends up on the floor beside his shirt.
It shouldn’t be any different than when we’ve hung out in my pool, I tell my racing mind. My bra and underwear cover just as much as my bikini did then. And it’s not like we haven’t been making out for the last two weeks. But when his hands caress my shoulders and he brings his lips to my jaw, I know that if I let it, this could go way past where we’ve been.
His finger traces a line from my belly button up to my chest and back down again, coming to rest against the inside of my thigh. A shiver runs through me, and it’s the anticipation of what could come next that forces me to break away from him.
His eyes open. I sense that there’s an unspoken question tugging at the corner of his lips, and it causes me to shift my gaze away from him. It would be so easy to keep going, especially since we’ll never have this chance again. I take a deep and unsteady breath, which clears my mind for just long enough to hear the nagging voice inside my head remind me that the heavier this gets, the more gut-wrenching tomorrow is going to be for both of us.
“We don’t have to rush into anything, you know,” he says, touching my shoulder. I know he’s misread my shiver and why I’m not looking at him now. “We have lots of time.”
Except we don’t. Being reminded of this is pretty much the same as being doused with ice water.
“We do,” I lie, fighting to keep the tremble from my voice. I’m not sure if I’m going to regret this choice for all eternity, or if I’ll be proud of myself for choosing not to make things that much harder.
I force myself to sit up, watching Riley lean over to grab his shirt from the floor. I reach for my dress, trying to hide my face from him because if he sees it, he’ll know I’m barely keeping it together.
“You look so serious,” he says, watching me get dressed. “That definitely wasn’t my plan.”
I force a smile to my lips, reminding myself that I can’t let my mind skip ahead to tomorrow while he’s here. The reality that these are my last few hours with him makes me feel like I might break, and I can’t break in front of him.
“Not serious,” I tell him. “I’m just a little more tired than I thought. My yoga class today was pretty intense.” I reach for his hand and squeeze it.
“Back to the movie, then?” he asks.
“There was a movie?” I ask, trying to look innocent. Watching a movie kind of sounds like torture to me right now, knowing that we could still be doing what we were doing. He laughs and picks up the TV remote, rubbing my back with his free hand.
I try to act like I’m paying attention to what’s on the screen, but I have no idea what I’ve been watching when the credits finally roll. The clock on the wall tells me it’s only just after 10 p.m. It’s early, but I’m still a lot less steady than I should be tonight. I need to keep control of my energy, but if Riley’s here for much longer I know I won’t be able to do that. And if I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with what I need to do in the morning. So I do the only thing I can think of and make a production out of faking a yawn. It doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Sleepy girl?” he asks. He sits up beside me, bringing his fingers to my chin and tilting it upward. I close my eyes, trying not to look at him.
“Mmm-hmm,” I lie.
He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m sleepy, too,” he admits. “I was in the studio at five this morning.”
I can tell he wants me to ask him to stay here tonight. The only thing in the world that I want right now is more time with him and to feel him sleeping next to me, but I know it can’t happen. I’ll want to keep doing what we were doing before, and I won’t be able to keep my energy steady. I also won’t be able to explain why I’m getting up before the sun rises to drive to Malibu.
“I think I’m going to go to sleep early tonight,” I tell him.
“That’s probably not a bad idea for me, either.” He kisses the top of my head again. I want to grab him by the ears and make out with him until the sun comes up, but I kiss the tip of his nose instead. Then I stand up and reach for one of the plates we left on the table. He stands up, too, helping me clear the dinner dishes from the living room.
When I pretend to be so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open, he takes that as his cue to head home. I walk with him to the front door, trying not to think about this being the last time we’ll say goodnight.
I linger behind him in the foyer, watching him put on his shoes and reach for the door handle. He pauses after cracking the door open, taking a step toward me and sweeping me up in the gentlest, sweetest goodnight kiss I’ve ever had. It takes almost everything I have in me to keep a smile on my face.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, touching my shoulder. He turns to walk down the driveway to his car.
