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From: Abby
I’m still alive
Date: October 15
Logan,
Sorry, I sort of lost my email privileges for a while. I did something stupid. I was just mad and sad and I broke some things. I just miss Grams. I just miss you. I just miss everyone and seeing everyone at the funeral made it a million times worse to return.
The days are going by so slowly. Six months never seemed so long.
Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid again.
Tell Noah thanks for the shrink. No, really, thank him for me. He’ll think I’m being sarcastic, but I like her. She listens to my stories. All of them. The ones I make up. The ones I don’t. She even laughs at all the right places and it’s not a fake laugh, but a real one.
She even likes to talk about what I think aliens would look like. People who play along are cool. She’s sort of cool, but she’s starting to ask about my mom and I’m not sure I want to talk to her about that yet. Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t, but I like that she’s okay when I don’t.
Sleeping is tough and it’s tougher to get through this without good sleep. Sort of hard for me to close my eyes and trust that everything is okay. I lie awake for hours and stare at the ceiling. Thinking about Grams, Dad, you, my past and future choices. I miss sleeping. First thing I want to do when I get out of here is sleep.
I still love you,
Abby
To: Abby
From: Logan
Re: I’m still alive
Date: October 15
Abby,
God, it’s good to hear from you. I never lost faith in you, though. I knew I would hear from you. Knew you’d figure yourself out. It all goes back to having faith in you like you have faith in me. I don’t have to see you to know you care. You don’t I have to see me to know that I love you.
Noah sent in Mrs. Collins when we all stopped receiving emails. She’s a social worker he knows and he just wanted to see if she could find something out. He didn’t know she would actually talk to you. He says good things about her. So do a lot of other people. They trust her so I think you can, too.
Let’s go for fifty brand-new things. Losing pisses me off.
I still love you, too.
Logan
Abby
“What do you think?” I hold up the plastic ornament I painted and Mrs. Collins purses her lips together. Today’s December 23 and Logan told me he plans on visiting tomorrow. “It’s my Christmas present to Logan. Considering my gift-giving options are limited, this is all I’ve got.”
“It looks good,” she says, taking in the glob of red and brown that’s supposed to be a reindeer-bunny hybrid. Mrs. Collins is blonde, is one of those naturally perky people, and she has killer taste in bands according to her T-shirt collection.
“I think you’re full of shit. I’m definitely not a painter or ornament maker.”
“I have a client who would tell you that art is in the eye of the beholder.” Mrs. Collins sits in the couch across from me in the private therapy room.
I’m lying on my couch because that’s what people do on TV when they see a shrink. She explained I didn’t have to do that, but I told her I wanted the full-on experience.
I rest the ornament on the table and link my fingers over my stomach and stare at the ceiling. “I’m betting that client is Echo, and she can say that because she’s insanely talented in art. Trust me, I’m not a painter.”
Noah proposed to Echo before she left for Colorado and she accepted...without a diamond ring. I won’t lie—I feel guilty about that, but Noah told me not to worry. He emailed me with the news and said that Echo’s cool waiting on a ring. Said she was just fine with him asking. I’ve seen the two of them together and I believe him. Echo doesn’t care about stuff like that.
