The Other Side of Tomorrow

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “You see it too?” I question softly, my eyes flashing from his down to the sand in nervousness.

  “See what?”

  “The distinct line between before and after when bad things happen? How it changes your life so distinctly that it’s never the same again.”

  “Yeah,” he whispers, drawing something on my hand. Goosebumps prickle my skin and it’s not from the night air. “Yeah, I see it.”

  He suddenly curls his fingers into mine and those sea-green eyes look up at me. “Is this okay?”

  I nod. “It’s okay.”

  It’s more than okay. His hand feels good in mine, solid, like we fit together.

  “Thank you for coming out here with me. I swear I’ll stop dragging you out in the middle of the night.” He chuckles, looking at the waves as they crash against the sand with a soft roar.

  My heart seizes at his words. “Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Please. I … I can’t sleep a lot too. And this … this is nice. It reminds me I’m not alone.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asks suddenly.

  I hadn’t realized it but, at his words, I suddenly notice I am.

  “It’s after one in the morning, nothing is open, and I can’t sneak you into the house and cook for you.”

  He grins. “You would cook for me?”

  I bump his shoulder with mine, our hands still clasped. “Oh, shut up. I do like to cook.”

  “I was actually suggesting we go to this diner I know. It’s not far and it’s open twenty-four hours.”

  “Um, okay.” I bite my lip nervously. “But I’m in my pajamas.”

  “You can change if you want. Or I have a sweatshirt in my car you can use.”

  I may or may not be having heart palpitations over the fact he said I can wear his sweatshirt. Excuse me while I die a little inside.

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” I say.

  He smiles and my stomach flips but I notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Even here, even now in this moment, his sadness about his brother lingers in the air. I don’t blame him. Losing a loved one isn’t easy. You can’t be expected to get over it in the blink of an eye. Grief may suck but in a lot of ways it’s like a warm coat, keeping you cozy as you remember the person, refusing to let go and believe they’re gone. But eventually you get too hot and have to remove that coat, and that’s when the real pain comes because there is no protection to soften the blow anymore.

  He stands and helps me up, both of us dusting the sand off of our bodies. He towers above my five-foot-two frame, tall and lean I’d say he’s six-foot-three. I feel like a tiny little doll in his presence. If he picked me up my toes would dangle in the air.

  He leads me around the side of my house, holding back some of the overgrown plants for me. We need to either trim or get rid of some stuff. They’re starting to look more like weeds than actual plants.

  Jasper stops at his Jeep and reaches into the back, pulling out a sweatshirt with the mascot of his college, an eagle.

  “Hands up,” he commands.

  I do as he says and he slips the sweatshirt down over my body. It hangs past my pajama shorts and I have to roll the sleeves four times to be able to use my hands.

  He looks me up and down. “I dig it.”

  “I look like I’m naked.” I look down at my bare legs.

  His eyes glimmer. “Tuck that part up too then.”

  “That would look dumb.”

  “Then just pretend you’re wearing an oversized dress.” He shrugs and opens the passenger door for me.

  “M’lady.”

  I shake my head at him and climb inside the giant Jeep. A giant Jeep for a giant guy.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. I think to myself as he jogs around the front and climbs in the driver’s side. I look to my right at my house, the windows darkened as they all sleep, and here I am with a guy.

  It almost feels like I’m living someone else’s life—like nothing this exciting should possibly be happening to me.

  “Ready for an adventure?” Jasper asks me, starting the Jeep and turning up the heat to stave off the chilly beach night air.

  I nod and smile. “I’m ready.”

  I don’t feel scared, or even worried, instead I feel exhilarated.

  More than that I feel alive which is all I’ve wanted since all this happened.

  To feel alive again is the greatest gift anyone could ever give me.

  Jasper smiles back at me and, for a brief moment, his grief doesn’t exist and neither does my transplant.

  He’s just a guy and I’m just a girl and we’re going to get something to eat. Something perfectly normal and innocuous and yet it feels like the world.

  As we drive it amazes me how quiet the night is. There’s a peacefulness that exists while everyone else is sleeping. It’s like stepping into an alternate universe, one where only the two of us exist. Part of me wants to stay in this little bubble for as long as I can.

  Jasper glances at me, but I continue to look out the passenger side, my hair blowing around my shoulders from the open Jeep. The heat he put on seems pointless but a little manages to seep into my bones.

  I can’t help but wonder what he thinks when he looks at me.

  Does he see in me what I see in him?

  I cross my arms and lean out the window.

  Occasionally we pass a house with a light on and I wonder why that person is up.

  Maybe they’re taking care of a crying baby. Or they could be working. Perhaps, like us, sleep evades them.

  I wouldn’t say I have insomnia, not in the normal sense, my guilt keeps me up at times, my guilt at being alive while someone else had to die, but sometimes I’m up because it’s like I’m afraid if I fall asleep I might miss something. With my transplant, I have so much life to live now. I don’t want to miss a single moment.

  Within ten minutes of leaving my house, he pulls into the lot of a small diner. I’m sure I’ve passed this place thousands of times, but it’s never caught my attention.

  The front is rather plain, with two large windows, the name of the diner stenciled on both in large bold letters.

  MEL’S it reads.

  Jasper parks and I follow him inside.

  The place only boasts one customer, but it’s one more than I expected at this hour.

  Jasper leads me to a booth beside one of the windows. The seats are black with white piping and the floors are checkered black and white title. The walls boast black and white photos of the owners and patrons through the years, along with other random memorabilia like a signed baseball glove and dominos glued to the wall in a floral pattern. On our right is a long black counter with round stools covered in blue vinyl upholstery. It’s weird and quirky and utterly perfect.

  “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” I say, my voice full of awe.

  “It seems to exist in its own little world.”

  He grabs two menus off the table and slides one to me.

  “What’s good?” I ask him.

  “Everything,” he replies. “You can’t beat the pancakes.”

  I look over the menu but decide pancakes sound good.

  The lone waitress appears. “What can I get you guys to eat and drink?”

  Jasper points at me to go first. “A water and chocolate chip pancakes.”

  “Good choice.” She smiles. “And for you?”

  “A Sprite and blueberry pancakes.”

  “That shouldn’t be long.” She taps her pen against her notepad and goes to put our order in.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks me. “I mean, it hasn’t been that long since your surgery, right?”

  “No, it hasn’t been long. I feel great. Still a little sore at times, depending on what I do, but other than that it’s been smooth sailing. I can’t complain. I still have to go to the hospital a lot, but again I can’t complain. They’re making sure the kidney works and that’s all that matters. Gotta make sure I don’t end up back on dialysis. T
hat would … Well, that would suck.”

  “What’s dialysis like?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I was on hemo-dialysis in the beginning since I had to start immediately. I was on it for a good year, actually, while we were trying to find a living donor match. It was hard on my body. I felt sick and tired all the time. I hate feeling like I just wanted to sleep and stay in my bed all day. Plus, everybody in there is sick. I hated seeing that and not being able to do anything about it. I’m a doer. When I was little I always wanted to save any sick or injured animal I ran across. That hasn’t changed.” I pause and gather my hair into a ponytail, securing it with a band from around my wrist. Talking about this always makes me hot as my temperature rises, so getting my hair off my shoulders helps. “I finally switched to peritoneal dialysis. It’s done through a tube in your stomach at home every night. I could do it myself and I felt a lot better doing it. That’s not the case for other people. I believe you have to find the right fit for you and that’s what worked for me. It wasn’t ideal, none of it is, but it gave me a sense of normalcy again.”

  “Wow,” he whispers, letting out a breath. “I never realized it was like that.”

  “A lot of people don’t.”

  I offer a smile to the waitress as she drops off our drinks.

  I rip off the paper from around the straw and dunk the straw in my drink.

  “And what about transplant? What’s that like?”

  I sigh heavily. “Exhausting. Mentally and emotionally exhausting. The doctors and hospitals are great, they are, but the process is slow. When we were doing living donor workups it was taking months and then eventually everyone got weeded out. And I … I didn’t want to keep feeling like I was begging, you know? It’s a big deal to ask someone for an organ, and I was beginning to feel like a broken record, I resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to have to wait for someone to die. Which wasn’t easy either, to come to terms with the fact that I was waiting for someone to die so I had the gift of living. Do you know that one person donating their organs when they die can save around eight lives? Maybe even more? It’s a beautiful thing, but a lot of people freak out when you bring up the topic of organ donation, but wouldn’t you rather save lives?”

  “We donated my brother’s organs,” he says softly.

  I gasp, for a moment I forgot where I suspect my kidney came from.

  “We thought if … if T.J. had to die, others should get to live. We didn’t want his death to be in vain. We wanted something good to come out of it.”

  My heart clenches and my throat closes up with the threat of tears.

  Maybe he won’t be mad. Maybe … maybe he’ll be grateful you got his brother’s kidney.

  I’m saved from saying anything by the arrival of our food. Pancakes stacked five high rest on each plate.

  “Enjoy, guys.”

  I drench my pancakes in syrup and for a brief second my heart stops in panic that I don’t have my binders to take with my food, but then just as quickly I realize I don’t need them anymore.

  “I think that’s … beautiful,” I tell him finally.

  He gives a small smile but there’s sadness in his eyes. I hate that his brother is gone, and I hate that I might finally be able to live because of it.

  I decide to change the subject in the hopes of getting the sadness out of his pretty blue-green eyes.

  “Do you think you could teach me to surf?”

  He chews and swallows a bite. “Of course.”

  “Even if I’m really—like I mean, really—bad?”

  He chuckles. “Even if you’re the worst I think I can handle it.”

  We smile at each other and warmth spears my body. I love spending time with him. A few short days and I’m becoming addicted to it—to being around someone who I can be myself with, who gets it, who’s incredibly easy to talk to.

  I want to get to know him more. I never want to lose this feeling.

  I take a bite of chocolate chip pancake and cover my mouth to stifle my moan.

  “Good?” He chuckles, clearly amused.

  “This is the best damn pancake I’ve ever had.”

  “Maybe that’s how we should advertise them,” our waitress jokes, refilling my water glass.

  I blush.

  She winks and heads away.

  “Besides surfing what do you like to do?”

  He thinks for a moment, a tiny bit of blueberry clinging to his lip. I don’t tell him, because he looks adorable.

  “I like to build things. Mostly, I just like to keep my hands busy. I get restless if I’m not doing anything.”

  “What kind of things do you build?”

  “Last summer I helped my dad redo the deck to our house. And I built a tree house for our neighbors. Usually it’s smaller stuff, like birdhouses and shelves, a bookcase. Stuff like that.”

  “I always wanted a tree house growing up,” I say wistfully.

  He gets this look in his eyes. “I can build you one.”

  “You’re not serious. We don’t have a tree you could even build one in.”

  “We do.”

  “You would build a tree house for me at your parents?” I raise a brow.

  “Why not? They wouldn’t care. They’re cool. I always wanted one too growing up. So did T.J. It could be for the three of us.”

  “Well, if you’re serious, that’d be amazing but I want to help.”

  He smiles. “I’d like that.”

  My stomach flips. It seems to do that constantly around Jasper.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the feeling. I’m not sure I want to.

  We finish our meal, making small talk.

  The more I get to know him the more I like him. He’s easy to talk to, nice, and he makes me feel like me. Not the old me, or even the new me, but a version of me who’s happy and strong and excited about living.

  He drops me off and kisses me on the cheek.

  My cheek tingles all the way into the house and up to my room, and when I wake up there’s still a pleasant warmth.

  I sleep in, my night excursion having worn me out. The smile won’t wipe off my face. I feel giddy, something I never feel.

  When I get downstairs my parents are already gone for work and Harlow lies on the couch, the TV on for background noise, with her nose buried in her summer reading. It must not be very good because she wears a look of intense concentration and her lip is curled in distaste.

  “Good morning,” I sing-song, dancing into the kitchen and doing a dip as I open the refrigerator door.

  “Good dream?” she asks.

  “Yes, and even better reality.”

  She slaps her book closed and sits up. Her hair is in a messy ponytail, some of the loose blonde strands fluffing around her head. “Do tell.”

  “Jasper and I hung out again last night,” I tell her, biting my lip to try to damper my blinding smile.

  “What?” she gasps, her jaw dropping.

  She swings her legs over the couch and hops up, running into the kitchen.

  I nod excitedly. “He took me to eat at this diner. I’d never even noticed it before. It was delicious.”

  “You’re like … glowing.”

  I fix myself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles cereal—the breakfast of champions.

  I lean a hip against the counter and my spoon clangs against the glass bowl when I dip it in.

  “I like hanging out with him.”

  She grins and sits on one of the stools. “I think you more than like him.”

  “Maybe … but I’m just getting to know him. I don’t want to rush anything just because this is new and exciting. I have to keep my head.”

  She snorts. “For a guy that hot, he can have whatever he wants, my head, my hand, my underwear. Just take it.”

  “Harlow!” I screech and flick my spoon at her.

  She dodges the flying milk and cereal. Perry skids on the floor, excited to lap it up.

  She shrugs. “What? He’s seriously go
od looking. Like an Abercrombie model.”

  “He’s not that … Okay, he kind of is, but in a real way, not a stone cold let me smolder at you way.”

  She snorts. “I low you.”

  I shrug. “What can I say? I’m very lowable,” I joke. “Anyway” —I take a bite of cereal— “he’s teaching me to surf today. You wanna go?”

  She crinkles her nose. “And be your third wheel? I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “Besides, I have to finish this book today and start my summer essay. Remind me again why I decided to take all honors classes?”

  I laugh. “Because you’re a smarty pants.”

  She groans. “Yeah, well apparently not smart enough to realize this was a very bad decision.”

  “You’ve done it the last two years too,” I remind her, pointing my spoon in her direction.

  “It just keeps getting harder and harder,” she complains.

  I shrug. “It’ll be worth it.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She sighs. “Still, I’d rather be learning to surf with my hotty pants potential boyfriend.”

  I snort. “We’re nowhere near that point, and might never get there, besides if you want a hotty pants boyfriend I’m sure Spencer would jump at the chance.”

  She blushes and mumbles something before hurrying from the kitchen back to the family room and her waiting book.

  I could tease her about it, we’re sisters after all, but we’ve always had a little bit more respect for each other than that. Maybe it’s because I got sick, or maybe it’s just how we are, but if she likes him I can’t mock her feelings. That’d be wrong of me.

  I clean my bowl and head back upstairs to shower and get ready. I don’t know what time Jasper will want to meet, but I figure I should be ready to go when the time comes.

  Perry follows me to my room and sits on my bed while I go to shower.

  When I come out he’s lying on his back with all his paws in the air. I shake my head.