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“Actually, I meant that’s kind of far.” I chew on my lip. I’ve had my license for two years and haven’t driven as far as Austin yet. “Did you drive here?” My car was the only car in the lot when I arrived.
“My motorcycle is somewhere out there,” he says, throwing his hand toward the east where it’s too dark to see anything. “I came from the highway.”
“Motorcycle. That’s exactly like Sasha. She would have loved that.”
“She did,” he says, sliding closer to me on the bench, watching as I double-click to open the folder for the flash drive. “I told her about it and she said she’d love to take a ride on it but — well, we never met up. I might have pushed too hard to meet her at first,” he says as tiny lines appear in his forehead. He shakes his head. “I was just excited. I had a sister and I wanted to meet her. But she was always kind of … distant about it.”
“That’s probably because of the cancer,” I say. There’s only one file on the flash drive, a video labeled Hello. It was saved there on April 3rd. “April? That’s almost five months ago.”
“That’s shortly after we started emailing,” Elijah says. He leans even closer and I can smell his soap, or maybe it’s his shampoo. Citrusy and clean.
It kills me to think that Sasha had this big secret for so many months. I saw her every day. We talked all the time. She never even hinted about it. How could she have kept something this monumental from her best friend?
Elijah nudges my arm. I look over and flinch, not expecting him to be so close to me. Our legs are practically touching on the bench, and his elbow, resting on the back of it, is just millimeters from my shoulder.
“You okay?” he says, his eyes narrowed in concern as he looks me over. “I’m not trying to push you, but I’m dying to know what’s on the video.”
If Sasha kept something from me, she had her reasons. Right?
I double-click the video icon and it opens, full screen. Sasha’s face appears right in the middle of it. I gasp as a sob lodges in my throat.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. Sasha’s hair is all stringy, looking like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, but really that’s just how bedhead on cancer treatment looks. She’s wearing makeup, but her eyes are a little swollen. Her Zombie Radio shirt hangs loosely on her thinner frame. This was filmed back when things were still okay. We could hang out and eat junk food and stay up all night. She still got sick a lot, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as in her final weeks.
“Hey, Rocki,” she says, breaking into a grin. Chills prickle up my spine. Her eyes flicker to the right, my left, and she dips her head a little. “Hey, Elijah.”
Now he flinches. She looks over to the left and shrugs. “Or maybe you’re over here? Hell, I don’t know. You’re watching this on Rocki’s computer, so I know she’s” — she holds up her hands parallel in front of her, like a flight attendant — “right here.” She smiles again and this time it reaches her eyes. Tears fill mine. Elijah’s arm is around the back of the bench now, and he grabs my shoulder and doesn’t let go.
“So,” Sasha says, her chest inflating as she sits back a little. I can tell she’s on her bed, her computer probably on her lap while she records this. There’s a slight bit of golden fur to the right where Sunny is curled up. “By now, you two have met and probably talked, and you’re watching this together.”
She glances down at her hands, blinks a couple times and then looks back at us. “I guess I owe both of you an apology. Rocki, I’m not going to tell you about Elijah while I’m still alive. I just can’t, okay? We met online when I was searching for my birth parents — who my real parents don’t want me searching for — and, well, I already know I won’t let him meet me when I’m alive.” She glances back to the right, directly at Elijah. “I’ll explain why in a minute, I swear. But Rocki, you can’t know about this until after, okay? I can barely handle the news myself and I don’t want to make things complicated. Because frankly, I think you’d encourage me to tell my parents about Elijah, and I can’t do that.”
I let out a sardonic laugh. “She’s right,” I say, filling the silence of Sasha’s short pause.
She glances at her hands again and then back at us, probably trying to decide what to say next. I look over at Elijah, his eyes reflecting the computer screen. They’re watery and blue and beautiful. They flit to me, and we watch each other for the smallest moment. Then Sasha tal
ks again.
“Elijah, my brother, I’m sorry I didn’t meet you earlier. I’m sorry I kept my distance and only emailed you.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m dying, Elijah. There’s going to be people crying at my funeral, people hurt because I’m gone. If I meet you now, you’ll be one of those people.”
The pain in her eyes while she says these words cracks the dam that’s holding back my tears. I blink and they fall down my cheeks, the sensation so familiar it’s almost comforting.
“I can’t hurt another person, Elijah. I can’t have one more person crushed. I’ve already hurt my parents, my best friend and so many others. I’m sorry. Please understand. Please know that I am so grateful to have found you before I died.”
Elijah’s grip on my shoulder tightens, his other hand wiping at his eyes. I lean my head against his arm, hoping the gesture comforts him, even just a little bit. On the screen, Sasha continues.
“So here’s the deal. Elijah, you’ll love Rocki. She’s good people. And she’s also stuck with you for a while, but something tells me she won’t mind … I mean, you’re pretty cute, after all.” At this, she leans forward and winks at the screen, at me, and my cheeks flush. God, Sasha! He probably has a girlfriend! I laugh and sob at the same time, and even Elijah chuckles.
“She doesn’t have much of a filter,” he mumbles.
Sasha sits back up. “So here’s the deal. I’ve got my best friend and my brother, arguably the two best people on the planet, and I’m speaking to you both from beyond the grave. Why, you might ask?” She lowers her gaze and makes this mischievous smile, and it’s like she’s staring right into my soul. “This is my last wish: I want Elijah to know me, the real me.” She grimaces. “Not the cancer-ridden, dying girl that I am now. I want him to know what my life was like, what shaped me into a person. If all of this mess had never happened, we would have still found each other, and I would have told him all these things myself. Instead, Raquel, I’m letting you take the reins. In the next few days and weeks, you’ll both hear from me again. I have planned adventures, all of them are things or places or somethings — I’m not going to spoil it now — and each will show you a piece of my soul, a part of who I am. Don’t worry about how you’ll hear from me — I have some people helping me. They have your addresses and they’ll get to you. They’ve promised to stay anonymous, so don’t even try finding them, or you’ll ruin the magic, okay?”
Elijah and I share another look. A warmth spreads through my chest at the idea of hearing from Sasha again. Judging by the spark in his eyes, I’d say he feels the same.
On my computer, Sasha continues. “I only have a couple of rules. One: no telling my parents. I’m serious, Rocki. Not a word. Actually, don’t tell anyone. This is a small town and word travels.” She points to the screen with two fingers and narrows her eyes. “I’m serious.”
After a beat, she grins. “Rule number two: I want you to do everything together. Rocki can fill in the gaps and tell you more things that I can’t. Don’t hold anything back, Rocki. You can tell him the embarrassing parts of my life, he’s my brother after all. He deserves to know.”
She looks down and pulls her lips under her teeth. Beside me, Elijah has become so still I’m not sure he’s even breathing. I don’t want to take my eyes off Sasha for long enough to find out. Several moments pass, nothing but the sound of crickets and buzzing gnats in the cool summer air. I can see her breathing, so I know the video didn’t freeze. Finally, she looks up with tears in her eyes.
