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I watch him, head tipped back, a serene look on his face. I wonder if he ever had days like this as a kid, if he even knows how much he missed out on compared to Sasha’s extraordinary life.
I want to ask him. I want to talk about his life, his childhood, his hopes and dreams and biggest fears. But this adventure isn’t about Elijah, or me. It’s about Sasha. This is her last wish, not mine.
“So,” I say, draining the last sip from my Frappuccino. “Which lake story should I tell you first …”
Chapter Ten
Thirteen days have passed without another word from Sasha. And yes, I’m counting. When your dead best friend sends you messages from beyond the grave, promising adventures, I think it’s okay to get a little obsessive when waiting for the next one. My cell phone constantly needs to be charged because I check my emails so often. I’ve been bitched at by all of my teachers for looking at my phone in class, but I don’t really care.
My whole existence has been whittled down to one thing: waiting.
School goes by in a blur. I’m no longer floating in Sasha’s popularity cloud, and because of it, I’m getting straight A’s in all of my classes again. It’s a little awkward to adjust to being just another face in the crowd, but I like it this way. I don’t want to talk to people who will just remember how nice and sweet she was all the time. I knew the real Sasha, and she means more to me than any of her superficial school friends will ever understand. I don’t exactly like school, but I’m grateful for the distraction. Focusing on assignments and homework keeps my mind temporarily off Sasha’s last wish.
And Elijah.
He also hasn’t emailed me these last two weeks, not that I should expect him to, I guess. I mean, I want to email him, to continue the conversations we had that day at the lake. Talking with Elijah comes easily, even when the subject is something that breaks my heart. Is it weird to wish I could keep doing it even without Sasha’s directions?
What had started out as a sobering reminder of how much I missed Sasha had turned into a wonderful day. Lounging on our rented ski boat, I told Elijah every single lake story I could remember, including the details that may not even matter, like how Sasha always smelled like coconut sunblock at the lake. The only details I didn’t go into were the ones pertaining to me. Like how Zack spent quite a few lake trips with us out on Sasha’s boat.
Then we’d visited Karen’s Dance Studio and I’d shown him the epic photo of his little sister in her ballet heyday. We didn’t stay there very long, since the whole studio was filled with tiny ballerinas and their parents, and we totally didn’t fit in.
Those two days I’ve spent with Elijah were the only times I’ve felt okay since Sasha’s death … maybe even before. Suddenly I realize I’ve been on edge pretty much since the day she was diagnosed.
Even though Elijah is just a sack of genetic material that matches Sasha’s, and even though I’ve only just met him and he could be a serial murderer for all I know, it feels like I can breathe when I’m with him. Like I can stop wishing it had been me instead of Sasha, stop mourning every second of the day, if only to have enough energy to share my life — and Sasha’s — with him.
***
My phone rings bright and early on Sunday morning. As soon as I see Mrs. Cade’s name on the screen, I sit up and stretch and try not to let my voice sound like I’ve been sleeping. She has enough to worry about and I don’t need her fretting over waking me up.
Mrs. Cade’s voice is cheery, almost like it used to be, before everything. “Good morning, sweetheart. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nope,” I say brightly. “It’s nice hearing from you. What’s up?”
“If you’re not busy, I was hoping to have you over for lunch today. I have a big pitcher of strawberry sangria — nonalcoholic, of course — and I’m making chicken Cobb salad with extra avocados,” she says, practically singing the last part because she knows avocados are my favorite. (The rest of the meal was Sasha’s.)
“I’d love to come over for lunch,” I say, and I don’t even have to fake my enthusiasm. Mrs. Cade’s Cobb salads make salad actually good.
“Oh, I’m so excited to hear that,” she says. “Want to come around noon?”
“I’ll be there,” I say. When the call is over, I fall back on my bed, my head crushing into the pillow.
I’ve had Sunday lunch at the Cades’ house a million times, but this is the first time the invitation came directly from Mrs. Cade. I’d promised Sasha that I would always make time to visit her parents after she was gone, but this is the first time I’m actually doing it. I cover my eyes with my arm and make a vow to call Mrs. Cade at least once a week. I swing by Izzy’s just before noon and grab a bouquet of daises, but when Izzy hears who they’re for, she steers me toward a purple orchid instead. She makes a good point that Sasha’s parents have probably thrown out dozens of dead arrangements after the funeral. They need one that will live.
The orchid in my hand, I knock on the Cades’ massive front door. It swings open almost immediately, and Mrs. Cade’s eyes sparkle when she sees me. Unlike Sasha, my friend’s adoptive mother has brown eyes and long, white-blond hair that’s always a little frizzy. But her welcoming smile looks just like my best friend’s.
It is deeply weird to be here without Sasha.
“This is for you,” I say, holding out the orchid to her mom. Sunny appears next to her, his tail thumping against the doorframe.
“How beautiful! Thank you.” Mrs. Cade tucks the orchid into the crook of her elbow and then pulls me into a hug, the scent of her perfume overpowering the real flowers. “How have you been, sweetheart?”
“I’m okay.” It’s the truest thing I’ve said all week. Okay. Not good, not bad, just in neutral. On impulse, I want to ask her how she is, but I hold back. No reason to make her lie to me.
She gives my arm a squeeze and then closes the door behind us. “Lunch is ready. Since it’s such a beautiful day, I thought we’d eat outside. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me. Is Mr. Cade here?”
She shakes her head as we walk into the large kitchen, where the white granite counters reflect the sunlight from the glass wall behind us. The entire north side of the Cades’ house overlooks the lake, and the architect made this wall mostly windows because of it.
