“Yeah, I’m a girl.”
“Wow,” she says. “Interesting,” she adds. She looks me over. “Can you bake?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Good, you can help me. I need to make five hundred brownies and five hundred cupcakes for the local bake sale tomorrow. I didn’t realize it’d be this much work when I signed up. Honestly, I should know by now. I always do this to myself. Put that down, Jasper,” she scolds, and Jasper drops the brownie that was halfway to his mouth. “The sale of these is to benefit needy people, unless you’re paying up, keep your grubby paws off of them.”
Jasper raises his hands in surrender.
“Go help your granddaddy; he’s out back doing lord knows what that he’s not supposed to do. I don’t bother scolding him anymore. It’s a waste of breath. Stubborn old man.”
Jasper whispers, “Good luck with this one,” in my ear and disappears.
Suddenly, I feel unsure about being left alone with this lady I don’t know. But I don’t have time to dwell on it because she puts me to work making icing and then frosting the cupcakes while she makes more batter.
“How do you know Jasper?” she asks.
“It’s complicated,” I mumble, because it is.
“We have time, dear.”
I guess she’s right.nbsp;
“We just keep running into each other,” I explain. “He asked me to hang out today and here I am.”
“That doesn’t seem very complicated, but I’m guessing it’s more than that.” She gives me a knowing smile.
I instantly feel at ease with her. She’s very comfortable to be around and kind.nbsp;
“How’d you guys come to live here?” I ask her. “It seems so remote.”
She stirs the batter vigorously—despite the fact that I notice a state-of-the-art Kitchen Aid mixer on her counter.nbsp;
“My husband inherited it from his father and so on.”
I add some sprinkles to a cupcake I just frosted. “Do you like living here?”
“I love it. It’s … peaceful.”
“It’s definitely that,” I agree. “Like another world.”
She smiles. “That’s how I’ve always seen it too.”
She finishes stirring and begins to scoop out the batter into clean cupcake tins.nbsp;
“Do you like my Jasper?” she asks suddenly, taking me off guard. “He’s a good boy. Kind, and smart too, he deserves to be happy. He’s been too sad since …”
“Since T.J.?” I leave out the part where I want to tell her she just described her grandson as having the same attributes as my Golden Retriever.
“Yeah.” She nods sadly and takes a shaky breath. “It’s hit us all hard, but especially him. They were close. He blames himself.”
“He didn’t tell me that.”
She reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. “I’m sure he’ll open up more. Give him time.”
I realize I’ve basically spilled my guts to him, opened myself up and put myself out there, and I don’t know him at all.nbsp;
I don’t feel angry, because his pain is fresh, and mine is old and that makes a difference. It’s easier for me to talk about now, but if I was in his situation and all this was two months ago, my lips would be sealed. I feel thankful that he feels like talking to me at all. I know he makes me feel better, not so alone, and I only hope I can do the same for him.
“We all tend to blame ourselves for things that are out of our control,” she continues. “It’s human nature, I think, to want to find some source to direct our pain even if it’s our self.”
“Wise words,” I murmur, carefully frosting yet another cupcake.
She chuckles. “I have my moments.”
She finishes scooping the batter in and slides the pan in the oven—taking another out to cool before setting the timer.
“That should do it,” she mutters, hands on her hips as she looks around at the mess and all the cupcakes waiting to be frosted and brownies to be cut into squares. “For the baking part, at least,” she sighs, blowing out a breath that fans her loose hair around her face.
She grabs up another bag already filled with icing and begins to pipe it on.nbsp;
We work quietly and as quickly as we can. There are a lot of cupcakes to frost, and it seems that no matter how many we do, there’s more.
When the last batch comes out of the oven she sets it down to cool and turns to me.
“Let’s take a break and have some lunch.”
My stomach rumbles. I hadn’t even realized it was lunchtime. I was so busy frosting the cupcakes I lost track of time.
I help her make enough sandwiches for four, and then we set the table on an enclosed patio out back.
“Can you grab the lemon water from inside?” she asks.
“Sure thing.”
I head back in and open the refrigerator, finding a large pitcher of fresh water with ice and lemon slices.
I carry it back out, careful not to let it slosh over the sides. I set it in the center of the table and Jasper’s grandma, I realize I don’t even know her name, opens a door on the side of the enclosed porch and steps outside.
“Boys!” she calls out, her hands cupped around her mouth. “Time for lunch!”
It isn’t long until I see Jasper and his grandpa emerging from a copse of trees.
“Oh, God,” I squeak, when I realize Jasper is shirtless and dripping with sweat.nbsp;
Sweet baby Jesus, why is he so hot? It’s not fair.
The three step onto the porch and I quickly take a seat. Jasper pulls out the chair beside me and his grandpa takes the one across from me.
“You must be Willa,” he greets me, holding out his hand. I shake it, and his grip is firm. “Jasper has been telling me all about you. I’m Leo.”
“Oh,” his wife pipes in. “How rude of me, I never gave you my name. I’m Mary Beth.”
“Thank you, guys, for welcoming me into your home.”
“Any friend of Jasper’s is a friend of ours.”
I pile some of the sides on the plate with my sandwich. Mary Beth had pulled homemade macaroni salad from the refrigerator as well as some sort of casserole that I wasn’t entirely sure what it was made of, but it looked delicious.
“Did you get done with the cupcakes?” Jasper asks.
I shake my head. “We have a lot more to go.”
“She’s been a great help,” Mary Beth tells him, and I smile at her praise. “I’m definitely much farther along than I would’ve been on my own.”
“What have you been doing?” I ask him.
I’m surprised by how comfortable I feel with him, with his family too. Normally I’m uncomfortable around people I don’t know, it’s a fallacy of being shy, but something about these people makes me feel warm and at home.
“Are you in college with Jasper?” Leo asks me.
I shake my head. “No, I’ve been homeschooled, I graduated high school in December. I … uh … I’m planning to take the next year off before going to college. I’ve had a lot of health issues, and I kind of just want a break to live for a little while and figure out who I am before I start school.”
Willa, you have got to tell Mom and Dad what you’ve decided. They might’ve figured it out on their own already, but they still deserve to hear it from you.
I resolve to sit them down tomorrow and tell them. I know they’ll understand, I’m not worried about that, but I still can’t help feeling like maybe I’ve failed them in some way.
Leo nods. “I think you’re making a smart decision.”
“Really?” I blurt.
He nods, chewing his food and swallows. “Yes, I think it’s better to understand your heart before you make such a big decision. You should know what you truly want to do. It’s not fair for anyone to be stuck in a job that makes them miserable because of a decision they made when they were young.”
We finish eating and, afterward, Jasper says we have to leave.
“But there are
more cupcakes to frost,” I protest, and he chuckles.
“Grandma can handle it, can’t you?” He looks at her over my shoulder.
“I’ll be fine. You two go on, but promise you’ll come back, Willa.”
I glance at Jasper. “Only if he wants me to.”
He stares at me for a moment, actually, it’s probably less than a second, but that look makes me shiver. “I want you to.” His voice is husky, and I swear it turns my stomach to jelly.
“I’ll be back then.”nbsp;
I exchange hugs with Mary Beth and Leo and then we’re back in the Jeep and on our way home.nbsp;
“I wish we could hang out longer,” Jasper says, turning into my neighborhood, “but I coach the boy’s eighth-grade swim team.”
Can he get any more perfect? He freaking coaches a kids’ swim team and all I can say for myself is I grocery shop and make dinner.
He parks the Jeep in front of my house and turns to me, resting his arm around the seat, his fingers dangling dangerously close to my shoulder.
“I want to see you again.”
“I’d like that too.”nbsp;
I’d like that too? How formal can you be? Surely you could’ve said something better? You are sooooo bad at this whole dating thing. Read a freaking Cosmo magazine already, Willa.
He grins. “Cool. I’ll text you.”
“I’ll see you then.”
I unbuckle and slip out of the Jeep.nbsp;
“Bye,” I call, and my cheeks heat as I walk away. “I am the most awkward human being on the planet,” I hiss to myself.
I hear him laugh behind me and the redness in my cheeks burns even hotter.
“I think you’re the most adorable human being on the planet.”
I turn around and he catches my gaze, flashing me a wink, and then he pulls away and is gone.
nbsp;
It’s later that night, after midnight, and I can’t sleep.
Instead, I lie awake staring at my ceiling. I can’t read the words glued to my ceiling, but I pretend I can.
Beside me, the table is now empty, has been for some time, of my dialysis machine.
It’s strange that I kind of miss it. I guess sometime in the years we spent together I grew rather fond of it in a way.
I clasp my hands over my chest, tapping my fingers. I’ve been lying here since ten o’ clock. Two hours of sleep evading me.
Two hours of my mind going round and round, replaying the day over and over again, wondering if I could’ve done or said anything differently. I’m always convinced I’ve made a fool of myself, even when I haven’t.
What can I say, anxiety is a bitch and makes you think stupid things.
I wouldn’t say I used to be an anxious person, but my disease definitely made it develop. Certain things, small things, suddenly became mountains I felt like I had to climb.
My phone vibrates and momentarily lights up my room.
Who’s texting me this late?
I roll over and pick it up. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness.
Jasper: Are you awake?
Willa: Yeah.
Jasper: Come outside.
Willa: Outside?
Jasper: Yeah, that’s what I said.
Willa: …You’re here?
Jasper: Yeah.
Willa: Be there in a sec.
I slip out of bed and throw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas. The sweatshirt is so loose it almost covers my sleep shorts, making it look like I’m not wearing anything.
I shove my feet in some flip-flops and hurry downstairs as quickly and quietly as I can.
Opening the front door, I find Jasper leaning against the doorway.
Gone is his carefree smile, and in its place is a frown and red-rimmed eyes.
My heart aches for him, for the pain so plainly reflected on his face.
I close the door behind me.
“Follow me,” I whisper, like we might be overheard.
I’ve never in my life done anything like this, sneaking around with a boy in the middle of the night. But I don’t feel afraid of him, and I know he needs me. For whatever reason, he just does.
Like me, he appears to be in sleep clothes. A pair of loose gray shorts made of sweatpants material and a plain tee with a faded logo and the sleeves cut off.
I lead him around the side of the house and into the back onto the beach. We sit down in the sand, side by side, looking at the dark ocean. You can barely see it, even with the stars glittering above, but you can hear it, and the sound always calms me when I’m feeling down.
We sit quietly. I don’t want to pressure him to talk, I want him to do it in his own time.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he finally whispers. “Every time I closed my eyes I saw that truck slamming into T.J.’s car. They said he died instantly, but I can’t help thinking what if they’re wrong. What if he sat in that car, suffering, knowing he was dying? What if he was all alone, knowing it was the end?”
“The end isn’t as scary as you think,” I whisper.
I don’t look but I feel him look at me. “How?”
I shrug. “There’s something quite comforting about it … like you’re going home.”
“I miss him,” he confesses, his voice pain-filled and full of longing. “We fought like brothers do, but we also loved each other. He was my best friend.”
“I feel the same way about my sister. Living without her would be like living without part of my heart.”
He nods, bending his knees and draping his arms over the top.
“We had this game we used to play, only the two of us, it was stupid.” He shakes his head. “We’d slap these stickers on each other, each one had instructions like jump off the pier or eat a raw fish. Stupid stuff,” he reiterates. “But I can’t stop thinking about how, even though we haven’t played it in years, we’ll never get to do it again.”
“You’re always going to miss him.”
“I know,” his voice catches, “but I’m scared for the day when it doesn’t hurt so much and is just normal. Or when he’s been dead longer than he was alive. My chest literally seizes up when I think about it.” He holds up a clenched fist to demonstrate. “And my parents … fuck.” He rubs his hand over his hair. “I can’t imagine how they feel. I lost my brother but they lost a son. My mom starts crying over everything and I can’t blame her. She found a baseball mitt stuffed under the couch the other day and started sobbing. I don’t even know how to comfort her because I’m so broken myself, but I hate seeing her fall apart. She’s always been strong and now she’s just … sad. We all are. The house seems empty without him. And I might be taking the next year off, but what happens when I do go back to college and the house is empty of the both of us? How will she take it then?”
I don’t know what to tell him. I’m afraid to say the wrong thing but don’t want to say nothing at all, either.
“You can’t think that far ahead. The now is complicated enough as it is.”
He looks over at me. “You’re right. Why were you up?”
I sigh, letting out the heavy breath that’s been weighing down my chest. “Lots of reasons.”
Like the fact that I have your brother’s kidney—that I need to tell my parents I’m not going to college—that I’m unsure about life and I feel like I can’t breathe.
“I know I don’t know you that well yet, but I feel like I can talk to you,” he admits. “I want you to know it’s okay to talk to me.”
I nod and pick up some sand, playing with it in my hands. I’ll have to take a shower when I go in, but I don’t care. This is way better than staring at my ceiling, unable to fall asleep.
“My life has been focused on my disease and dialysis the last three years, it’s weird to not have my life revolve around that now. I feel … off balance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly thankful for this transplant, more than you can ever understand, but it’s an adjustment.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve
been through.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
He shakes his head. “It might be different, but I think you have a better grasp on my situation than I do yours.”
I look at him, my hair blowing in the breeze. He stares back at me, his gaze intense. The sadness still lingers in his eyes, but he seems more peaceful now than when he first showed up.
The urge to lean over and kiss him is so strong my heart speeds up in my chest.
I’ve never kissed a guy before.
Literally, never.
I haven’t had the desire to. This is a new feeling, a strange one, but a good one too.
I swallow thickly, scared but slightly exhilarated.
Maybe it’s the cover of the night sky, or maybe it’s the symphony of the ocean, or maybe it’s just him, but somehow, I find the courage to lean a little closer.
His eyes flick down to my lips and his tongue flicks out the tiniest bit, like he knows what I’m thinking and anticipates it.
Be brave.
Those two words send me over the edge, hurtling my body into uncharted territory.
I close the distance and press my lips to his.
It feels weird at first, and I wonder why people like kissing so much, but then his mouth moves beneath mine and my whole body goes oh.
Now I get what the fuss is about.
He cups my face in one large hand, angling his lips over mine. The kiss is soft, sweet, but I feel it all the way down to my toes.
My heart shivers. I didn’t know it could do that, but it does.
He nibbles my bottom lip and I let out a soft sigh.
If I’d ever thought to imagine my first kiss, nothing could’ve ever compared to the reality.
Jasper pulls away, his hand still on my cheek with his fingers slightly grasping my hair, and presses his forehead to mine.
“I knew the moment I saw you you’d wreck me, but I honestly thought I’d never see you again.”
“Huh?” I whisper through my kiss-induced haze.
“I kind of lied to you. I remembered you from the coffee shop. I didn’t want to seem like a weirdo for remembering you, but I did. You’re kind of unforgettable.”
I’d never had anyone say anything like that to me before, and my heart leaps, grabbing onto his words so it can cradle it within its depths for all eternity.
The Other Side of Tomorrow Page 15
