The Last Wish of Sasha Cade

by Cheyanne Young

  Her words play over in my mind as I make my way back through the giant doors and between the towering concrete bears. I’ve spent my entire life following Sasha’s path, taking up residence in her shadow and making myself comfortable there. She was brilliant and confident, everything I wasn’t. I’d never questioned the path we walked together.

  But now she’s gone and I’ve got some questions.

  If she were here, I don’t doubt for one second that I’d find the courage to stand up for myself. It’s a little trickier now that she’s gone, though. Can I honor her while ignoring her instructions?

  But she fought her fight, and now I’m going to fight mine.

  I tug my jacket around me and walk quickly to my car. Elijah is leaning against the trunk, hands in his pockets, hair all a mess from the chilly breeze. “Does this mean she doesn’t want us to be together?”

  “I don’t care what it means,” I say, only stopping when my toes are pressed against his. The wind whips my hair back, probably making me look like one of those dogs with their head out a car window, but Elijah looks at me like he doesn’t mind what he sees. “I want to live in the moment,” I continue. My hands are in my pockets, but I wish they were wrapped in his. “I want to stop hiding and lying just to keep a promise we made to Sasha after she died. I love her more than anything, but she’s gone now. We have to live for us.”

  His head tilts slightly and I let myself get lost in his gaze, in those oceans of deep blue. “Okay, then.”

  I wait for him to reach out and pull me against his muscled chest, wrapping me in the scent of his cinnamon gum, kissing me in ways that’ll make the passing parents toss dirty looks our way. It doesn’t happen though, and instead he holds out the card.

  “What do you think is on the video?”

  “What video?” I ask, just as he flips the card with his fingers, showing me the back. There’s a pink URL written on the back, one of those shortened kinds that always take us to a video of Sasha.

  I pop my trunk and Elijah picks up my suitcase for me. “Let’s watch it when we get home?” I ask.

  He closes my trunk and nods. “Then I’ll take you on a real date.”

  ***

  Mr. Reinhart won’t let me leave until we’ve come inside and had some of his wife’s triple chocolate cake. I’m reminded of that famous painting of the farmer and his wife when I meet the Reinharts, although they both have silver hair and Mrs. Reinhart is quite a bit bigger in the midsection. She insists that I call her Jarrah, and she serves up a slice of cake that could feed a family of four.

  “I can’t remember the last time I won something,” Mr. Reinhart says. He holds his fork with two fingers and I notice he’s missing a pinky on his right hand.

  “Oh?” I say.

  Elijah clears his throat. “Yeah, it was pretty cool. Raquel is a lucky person.”

  I lift an eyebrow and he just gives me this look like he wants me to trust him, so I turn back to his temporary family and nod enthusiastically. This must be the lie he told about why we were going on vacation.

  “I wish we’d win a vacation,” Jarrah says, pointing her glass of milk at her husband. “We could use one.”

  They chuckle, sharing one of those moments that makes you know they’ve been a married couple for probably longer than I’ve been alive. I find myself wishing Sasha could meet them.

  Eventually, Elijah walks me back out to my car, tablet in hand.

  “Ready?”

  I hold my breath while he types in the URL. It could be a video of Sasha making fun of us for liking each other. Or it could be her formal blessing in person — well, in video. I don’t even know what to hope for.

  Sasha appears on the screen wearing a Hello Kitty beanie with her name airbrushed across it. We’d got it at the Market Square in San Antonio several years ago. Her hollow eyes are darker than ever. This was recorded after the other videos we’ve seen. The girl on the screen is dying.

  Her jaundiced face leans toward the camera. “Hey guys,” she says. “I don’t know how to tell you this, and honestly, it kind of screws up a couple videos I’ve already recorded, so now I have to redo them.” She holds up a notebook and then drops it into her lap. “I’m trying to figure out how to rearrange some letters now. My whole plan just got a wrench thrown in it.”

  Elijah and I exchange a glance.

  “I’ll just spit it out, okay? You can’t tell my parents that Elijah exists. Like not just now, but ever. I don’t think they would be happy about it, and not just because I went against their wishes and looked for my birth parents.” Sasha runs a hand over her face, her sullen features seeming to turn darker the longer the video plays. “I just learned something new. So … so here’s the thing.”

  She swallows and looks at her hands, which are somewhere in her lap where we can’t see them. “I’d been wondering if I should tell my parents that I found Elijah, but I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I tried to be all casual and stuff at dinner last night. I mentioned to my parents that I think blood cancer can be hereditary. Then I wondered out loud if any of my birth family had it as well.” On screen, she rolls her eyes. “As you can imagine, my parents just kinda shuffled along and tried to talk about something else, but I didn’t let it go. I said I wondered if I had any siblings or cousins or something who should be warned to get themselves tested for cancer. I mean, right? It was a legitimate concern. Well, they scoffed and said that it’d be impossible to warn everyone I was related to in the world and that I should just get over it.”

  Whatever Sasha has to say next, she takes a long time saying it. Her eyes flit downward, her hands twisting together. A cool breeze sends a shiver up my spine and Elijah wraps his arm around my shoulders. Sasha draws in a deep breath. “When I went upstairs after dinner, I overheard them talking. Mom said it might be a good idea to let the adoption people know about my cancer just in case — and I’m quoting verbatim here — ‘the boy needs to be warned.’ And then Dad said something about how he’s probably screwed up enough as it is, and that she should let it go.”

  She shakes her head slowly. “The boy. So yeah. They know. They know about you, Elijah. And they never told me, and they’re not gonna tell you about my cancer. They don’t even care what could happen to you.”

  Her eyes flood with tears and she peers into her webcam, struggling to keep her composure. “I’m sorry, Elijah. I don’t know why my parents didn’t want you then. I wish they did. I wish we could have been a family. And I don’t know why they won’t help you now. They’re good people, okay? They really are.”

  She wipes away tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t understand why they did what they did, but if they didn’t want you back then, they don’t get to know you now.” She shakes her head. “I’m such an idiot. I actually thought the two of you would make a really cute couple, you know?” She holds up her hands. “You’re perfect for each other! But now there’s no way you can be together without them finding out and making everything awkward.”

  Sasha stares at the camera for a long time. “My parents thought you’d be screwed up? Why, just because you were in a group home? I’ve never been so embarrassed by my family before. I’m sorry, guys. This sucks and it hurts and it’s stupid.” She looks me right in the eyes. “I have to record another video now. Sorry this one sucked. I love you both. Bye.”

  Elijah lowers his tablet.

  “I’m so sorry.” My words are meaningless, of course. Nothing can make up for what we just heard. I grab his arm, try to look at him, but he’s focused on the sky beyond the horizon.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Raquel.” His lips quiver into a shaky smile. “I guess I just … don’t understand. They seem like such great people. That’s all I keep hearing — how nice they are.”

  On instinct, I want to say yes. They are good people. I feel the words rising to my tongue. But then I picture th
e Cades talking in hushed tones behind their daughter’s back, deciding not to contact the orphan boy they know exists, and my reality turns on its side.

  “Well, now we know,” I say instead. “This is why Sasha doesn’t want us to be together.”

  His hand grabs my waist, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason,” he murmurs.

  My insides shatter, too many emotions all competing for space in my withered heart. I lean against his shoulder until he gives me a quick hug and steps back.

  “You should get home.” His chest fills up slowly and then deflates. “I think I’m going to go for a drive. Clear my mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  On Wednesday morning, my phone rings two hours before my alarm is supposed to go off. The number is unknown, but I know who it is — the only person who would call me at this ridiculous hour.

  “Elijah?”

  “Hey.”

  The chatter of people talking and phones ringing filters in through the line. It sounds like he’s in some kind of office. Or worse — a hospital. I sit up in bed.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m in jail.”

  I sigh, palming my forehead. The hospital might have been a better answer. “What happened? What the hell did you do?”

  “Nothing. Well — speeding, but, basically nothing.” Exhaling, I cover my eyes with my hand. Sasha trusted you, Elijah. “Since when do they take you to jail for speeding?”

  “They don’t. They take you to jail for a warrant.”

  I don’t know what to say. I really don’t know what to think. The silence stretches on so long that Elijah starts talking again.

  “It’s nothing, I am a good person. I swear to you. Last week they raided my old apartment, and Anthony and my other roommates all got busted for cocaine and pot distribution. They had a shit-ton of it in the apartment, and since I was living there, too, up until last week, I got lumped in as an accomplice and charged with Intent to Distribute.”

  “But you don’t live there anymore!” The panic is so consuming I’m only vaguely aware that I shouldn’t be yelling this early in the morning. The last thing I need is for my mom to come barging in here, wondering what’s wrong. “They can’t do that,” I grind out in a lower voice.

  “They can and they did.” He sighs, long and heavy. “My driver’s license has that address, not Mr. Reinhart’s, and half my stuff is still there since I couldn’t fit it on my bike. I’m in Travis County jail. My bail is five grand, and I have no money for that. There’s a court date coming up and maybe I can prove my innocence, I don’t know.” He’s normally so laid-back, which is why the tension in his voice sends a chill up my spine.

  “Did you call Mr. Reinhart? Maybe he can help.”

  “Yours is the only number I have memorized.”

  I take a deep breath. “You need a lawyer. I’m sure you’ll get out of this, okay? It’ll be okay.”

  “No money for a lawyer, Raquel. I get a public defender.” He snorts. “Wish me luck.”

  “Elijah —”

  In the background, I hear a gruff voice say, “Time is up, Delgado.”

  “I care about you a lot, for what it’s worth.”

  The call ends.

  ***

  Mom doesn’t bother going through the motions of putting the back of her hand to my forehead when I tell her I’m too sick to go to school today. She just nods while twisting her graying hair into a bun that she secures with a big hair clip.

  “Do you need me to bring you anything?” she asks before she goes to work. “Food? Water?”

  “I’m okay, thanks.” With my hair a frazzled mess and my blankets pulled up to my chin, I’m sure I look pathetic enough to pass inspection.

  Mom nods and then she’s gone. I listen to her car drive away, and then I’m up, resetting the GPS on my phone to route to Mr. Reinhart’s address right away. I’m not just going to sit back and hope for the best. I’m going to make Sasha proud and help Elijah in any way I can.

  An inflatable Thanksgiving turkey greets me in the middle of the Reinharts’ lawn. The rose bed in front of their small house has a little holiday scarecrow sticking out of the mulch, and I’m reminded of the Cades and how their lawn is always decorated for the holidays as well.

  Mr. Reinhart answers the door wearing reading glasses dipped down on his nose. He’s dressed like he’s going to work at an office job, though I know from our previous meeting that he’s retired.

  “Raquel?” He lifts the glasses to the top of his head, and I notice he has dark circles under his eyes. “Elijah’s not here. I’m not sure where he is. We’ve been worried sick.”

  “He’s in jail,” I say, twisting my hands in on each other. I’m still confident that this is the best way to help him, but showing up unannounced on a near-stranger’s doorstep is a first for me.

  Mr. Reinhart lifts a curious brow, and I talk faster, hoping to restore Elijah’s reputation before Mr. Reinhart decides to think badly of him. “There was a warrant on him and his old roommates for dealing drugs, but he’s not a dealer, I swear to you. That’s why he left — he wanted to get out of that place and find somewhere safer to live. But they arrested everyone, including Elijah, and now he’s stuck with no money for bail.”

  Hopelessness weighs me down. If only Sasha had planned for something of this magnitude. Left a secret stash of bail money or something.

  “Come in,” Mr. Reinhart says, stepping back from his doorway to let me inside. “Which jail?” he asks, his voice level. He doesn’t seem angry, so maybe he will help Elijah.

  “Travis County.”

  “And how much is the bail?”

  I sigh. “Five grand.”

  Mr. Reinhart pinches the bridge of his nose. “I want to help him, and I’ll do what I can, but I can’t afford that.”

  “I can’t either,” I say, staring at the purple lilacs embroidered on the placemat in front of me. “I just wanted to tell you, so you’d know what happened.”

  “I appreciate it,” he says. “Jarrah is at the grocery store. She’s been worried sick, the poor thing. We thought he decided to live somewhere else, but it didn’t seem like Elijah. He’s not the kind of person who’d leave without saying anything.”

  “He called me because he didn’t have your number,” I tell him. “But he wanted you to know he’s okay. I think I’m freaking out more than he is,” I mutter, letting out a sigh. “He’s acting like he expected his life to fall apart one day.”

  “Elijah grew up with nothing, and he often thinks that’s all he is. He cares about you, more than he cares about himself, I’d wager.”

  I look up at this. Mr. Reinhart nods, giving me a sad smile. “Group home kids don’t know love like the rest of us do. I tried my best to be there for him. He wasn’t like most of the boys his age when I met him. He’s an old soul. Quiet, rational. He’s always wanted more for himself, but he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.”

  “We have to help him,” I say, my jaw flexing. “He needs us.”

  Mr. Reinhart meets my gaze. “Then I guess we better get to work.”

  ***

  The next day, Mrs. Reinhart sets a cup of tea in front of me, right on top of the embroidered flowers. “It might be a little hot,” she says, sliding a jar of sugar toward me before she sits next to her husband.

  He’d asked me to come over straight after school. Izzy seemed worried about me when I told her I’d be missing work for a while, but I’ll explain it to her later. School is already impossible to get through each day; I can’t go back to real life until Elijah is free.

  “So what’s the plan?” I say, spooning some sugar into my tea.

  “I’m afraid it’s not looking too good.” Mr. Reinhart was able to visit Elijah, but only by video call. The jail no longer allows in-person visit
s through a pane of glass and a telephone, like you see in the movies. It’s all done over the internet now, at scheduled sessions. I was stuck at school today and had to miss out on his call.

  Mr. Reinhart studies a notepad in front of him, his notes scrawled every which way in handwriting I can’t decipher from across the table. “I spoke with his public defender. The evidence against the boys is stacked a mile high, and it turns out his friend Anthony has been dealing drugs for months now. Elijah wasn’t aware of it, says he’s been spending all his time working and being with you. Anthony is claiming they were all a part of the deal because he thinks he’ll be in less trouble that way.”

  “Elijah wouldn’t deal drugs,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “I believe you, dear.” His lips form a thin line. “I believe Elijah, too. But there’s nothing we can do. His lawyer is going for a plea deal. He’d only get five years, probably get out early with good behavior.”

  “Five years?” I spit out, raw anger coursing through my veins. “He’s innocent! He can’t stay in jail, it will ruin his life! He’s going to college. He’s going to get a degree in social work.”

  It’s not that easy, Raquel. Elijah told me that so many times and I never believed him. But maybe he was right. Nothing in his life has been easy. Things only got a little better for him when he discovered Sasha, and then they came crashing down again when she died. But now Elijah has me. I know I can’t make the world easy, but I can damn sure try to make it a little better.

  Mrs. Reinhart dips her head down, staring at her intertwined fingers. “That’s just how this works, honey. The system has failed him, just like it’s failed so many other kids.”

  “So that’s all?” My chair skids across the linoleum as I bolt up. He’s just a worthless orphan in the eyes of the legal system. “I’m not believing that excuse. The system sucks, but it’s not everything. He’s going to get out of this.”