The Other Side of Tomorrow

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “I’m just sayin’ when the day comes, I’m your girl.”

  “Okay, thanks—you’re seriously wasted and it’s not even dark yet.”

  “I want to let loose and have some fun,” she whines. “So that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Well … good.”

  We finally reach the bonfire and Meredith nearly rips off my arm when she starts to run toward it.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot I was holding on to you.” She releases my arm and I rub it.nbsp;

  “That much was obvious,” I grumble, already wanting to leave but I refuse to be a Debbie Downer.nbsp;

  Now free of me, she takes off for the bonfire, which is surrounded by people she went to school with. People, that once upon a time, I went to school with too. I recognize a few people from middle school, but none that I knew too well so I don’t dare say hi for fear of not being recognized. Talk about embarrassing. So, instead, I cling to Jasper like a life raft.

  “I hate things like this,” I admit. “I’m way too socially awkward for this.”

  “We’ll have fun,” he promises.

  “If you say so,” I grumble, not believing him.nbsp;

  Music plays and some people dance, but it’s not like the dancing Jasper and I did when we went out. No, this is the kind of dancing I fear the most—raunchy grinding of pelvises that looks about as close to sex with your clothes on as you can get.nbsp;

  “Looks like there’s drinks over here.” Jasper leads me to some coolers. One is filled entirely with different types of beer. Another has water—I guess you have to stay hydrated if you’re going to get wasted—and the third has sodas.nbsp;

  Jasper grabs us each a water.

  “You can have a beer if you want,” I tell him. “I won’t get offended.”

  “Firstly, I have to drive you back to your car so I won’t be drinking. Secondly,” he pauses, letting out a breath. “I haven’t even wanted to look at a beer since T.J. died. If it wasn’t for that asshole being wasted out of his mind he wouldn’t have killed my brother.”

  “What happened to the guy?”

  “He’s in prison. Apparently, T.J. wasn’t the first time he’s had an accident while drunk. It happened to be the first time he killed someone. You know, sometimes I wonder if he thinks about my brother. If he regrets what he did, ending a kid’s life before it ever really started.”

  I press my lips together. “I hope he does. If he doesn’t … well, that’s bad and he doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Jasper and I find a place to sit a little way from the chaos but close enough to see the bonfire.nbsp;

  “I always wonder, why so often it’s the person that’s drunk that walks away from the accident. I mean, they’re the one doing something wrong. Not that I want anyone to die, but … it seems unfair that the person doing what they’re supposed to, minding their own business, is the one who dies while the drunk walks away unscathed. He was a kid, Willa. This shouldn’t have happened. He should be over there with those kids” —he points to the people dancing and those lingering around the fire— “living up his life before he goes to college. Instead, he’s gone.”

  “Things don’t seem fair most of the time.” I sigh.nbsp;

  “No, they don’t.”

  I could say something about how everything happens for a reason and life goes on, but Jasper knows that already and, in this moment, he needs to feel sad and angry so I let him have that. It’s the best gift I can give him.

  He looks over at me suddenly, a strange look in his eyes. “Can I take you somewhere?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But … don’t you want s’mores?” I ask, confused

  He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

  “Um … yeah, okay.”

  He stands and holds out his hands to help me up. I pick up our water bottles from the sand, not wanting them to get left behind.

  I spot Meredith and run over to say goodbye. “If you need a ride home, call me,” I whisper in her ear.

  She nods and says thanks before beginning to dance once more.

  Jasper is waiting for me and the two of us make the trek back to the Jeep.

  I don’t ask him where we’re going as he drives a little way out of the main city of Santa Monica. I’m not afraid, either. Jasper has never done anything that would make me not trust him. I seem to understand that right now he doesn’t need to talk.

  When he pulls up to a quiet street and parks against the curb I look across and know the reason for everything now.

  The cemetery is surrounded by tall wrought iron gates done in what I’d assume is a gothic style. They’re imposing but quite beautiful.

  Jasper hops out and I follow his lead, meeting him at the front of the Jeep. Taking my hand, we cross the quiet street and stop in front of the gates.

  He takes an audible breath and looks at me before pushing open the gate. It squeaks loudly, an ominous echo through the otherwise quiet street.

  “It’s this way,” he says, guiding me to the right.

  The cemetery is large and it takes us a couple of minutes of walking before he begins to slow.

  He stops in front of a simple headstone.

  Thomas James Werthnbsp;

  October 11th, 2000 – May 22nd, 2018nbsp;

  Beloved son and brother.nbsp;

  I look at Jasper and find him working his jaw back and forth.nbsp;

  “You can let it out,” I tell him. “Don’t hold it in. That only makes it worse.”

  His lower lip begins to tremble. “Before I met you I would’ve traded places with him in an instant. Now, sometimes I hate myself for being grateful that I am alive and I got the chance to meet you.”

  “You shouldn’t feel that way. You can’t change what happened any more than I can change my situation.”

  “You’re right.” He nods, rubbing a tear from his cheek. “Still, he’s not here and I am, and that hardly seems fair.”

  He lets out a scream that’s full of anger and pure mourning before dropping to his knees.

  “Oh, Jasper,” I breathe, my heart breaking for a million different reasons, but mostly because if his brother hadn’t died I wouldn’t be standing here whole right now.

  I sink down beside him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He turns to me, his own arms twining around my torso. He rests his head on my shoulder and I feel the dampness of his tears on my bare skin.nbsp;

  It feels wrong to comfort him right now, like I’m doing something dirty while this lie clings to me like a soiled towel. My fingers dig into his shirt, grasping at the material like it’s a lifeline.

  I begin to cry too, but for different reasons.nbsp;

  I have to tell him, and when I do, I’m going to lose him.nbsp;

  nbsp;

  “Today is the day, Willa,” I tell my reflection.nbsp;

  My eyes look sad, glazed with the tears that threaten to fall. Taking several deep breaths, I attempt to get myself under control. That day at the cemetery I made up my mind that I’d tell him at the end of the summer—the day of his family’s barbeque. I can’t let this drag out any longer. The truth hangs like a guillotine over my neck, threatening to fall any second and I can’t take the stress and worry any longer.nbsp;

  In hindsight, today probably wasn’t the best day to choose to tell him since I’m going to be at his family’s house, but I refuse to talk myself out of it now.nbsp;

  This has to end.

  Shaking myself free of my thoughts, I finish getting ready. I twist two front pieces of hair into braids and secure them in the back with bobby pins. The rest hangs down in loose waves. For makeup I opt to add a little shimmer to my lids, mascara, and some pink gloss on my lips.nbsp;

  I flick off the light and then move to stand in front of my closet, contemplating what to wear.

  I hold a couple of options up to my chest, finally settling on a long mustard-yellow dress with a floral design. It’s, once again, a piece of clothing in my closet t
hat is thanks to Meredith.nbsp;

  I slip the dress on and assess my appearance in the mirror, deciding it’s perfect.nbsp;

  Dropping to my knees, I rifle through my shoes on the floor, locating an old pair of brown sandals that will pair much better with my dress than my normal pair of flip flops or Converse.nbsp;

  Slipping the shoes on and buckling them at the ankles, I stand and smooth my hands down the front of the dress.

  I feel sick at my stomach, knowing what I have to do.nbsp;

  I don’t want Jasper to look at me differently. Like I’m a leech, stealing his brother’s life. Mostly, I don’t want him to hate me, but how can he not? I kept this from him for months while he spoke to me of mourning his brother.nbsp;

  Throwing a hand over my mouth, I run to the toilet and heave into it, but nothing comes out.nbsp;

  Standing, I straighten my rumpled clothing and take a few deep breaths.nbsp;

  I hear my phone chime from my bed and my heart drops.

  Jasper is here.

  “It’s now or never, Willa.”

  I grab my clutch off my dresser and put my phone in it. My sandals clack on the stairs and I call out, “Bye, see you later.”

  “Wait, come here a second, Willa,” my mom calls out.nbsp;

  I detour into the family room and find my mom and dad on the couch and Harlow lying on the floor on her stomach with Perry curled up beside her.nbsp;

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  “Your dad and I have a surprise for you when you get home,” my mom says with a smile.nbsp;

  “Oh, really?” I ask intrigued. “Do I get a hint?”

  She shakes her head and laughs. “Nope, no hints.”

  “Do I get a surprise?” Harlow jokes, winking at me.

  My mom glances at her. “In a couple of years … maybe.”

  Harlow shrugs and turns a page in her magazine. “I can live with that.”

  My phone chimes again. “I better go.” I point in the direction of the front door. “Jasper’s waiting.”

  “Have fun,” Mom tells me.nbsp;

  Dad grunts.

  “Dad,” I say warningly.

  “Have fun,” he replies grudgingly.nbsp;

  I stifle a laugh, knowing it’s the best I’m going to get.

  I hurry outside and into Jasper’s waiting Jeep.

  “Sorry about that,” I say, pulling the seatbelt across my chest. “My parents wanted to talk before I left.”

  “You’re not in trouble, are you? Your dad’s not planning to kill me and cut me up into a million pieces?” he jokes, pulling out onto the street.

  “No,” I laugh. “They told me they have a surprise for me when I get home.”

  I bite my lip, wondering what it can be.nbsp;

  Now, between that and what I have to do I’m certain I am going to be sick—and God that’d be beyond embarrassing and make this day for sure go down as one of the worst. Not the worst, certainly, but definitely up there.

  “Any clue what it is?”

  “Nope, no idea. In fact, I’m kind of worried, but my mom seemed excited so it can’t be anything too bad.”

  We near his house and I notice some cars parked on the street.

  “Don’t worry,” he begins, sensing my unease. “It’s not too crowded, my parents, grandparents, and a few family friends.”

  He parks in the driveway and I follow him to the garage and into the house.

  “Mom, I’m back,” he calls out, heading for the kitchen.

  Inside, I find a smorgasbord of food laid out. Everything from snacks like chips, to veggies and dip, beyond that there’s mashed potatoes, hamburgers, hotdogs, grilled chicken, green beans, rolls, and more. How anybody is going to eat this much food is beyond me.

  “Grab a plate, Willa,” Tessa says with a smile, sticking something in the oven. “Everyone’s out back.”

  Jasper and I load up plates with food—well, he does, mine looks naked next to his since I don’t have much of an appetite.nbsp;

  He slides open the back door and we step out onto the patio. He’s right, there are not many people.

  “Willa,” his grandmother cries, throwing her arms around me. I nearly drop my plate but somehow manage to hold on to it and not get any food on her or myself.

  “Hey, how are you?”nbsp;

  “Good, good,” she chimes, letting me go. “I keep telling Jasper to bring you back by and he hasn’t.”

  “Grandma, I told you we’ve been busy.”

  She harrumphs. “Come sit by me, dear,” she tells me. “This one can go eat by himself.”

  “Don’t go stealing my girlfriend,” he jokes.

  I let her guide me over to the patio table where Jasper’s grandpa also sits.

  “Hey, Granddaddy, you remember Willa,” Jasper says, sitting down to which his grandma glares at him. He simply smiles as I sit beside him and his grandma takes the other chair.nbsp;

  Some of their family friends sit on the outdoor couch eating and chatting, not paying us any mind.

  “Of course I remember Willa. I’m old, not stupid.”

  Jasper laughs. “Sorry.”

  “How have you been?” she asks me.

  I push some food around my plate pretending to eat. I feel bad, the food looks and smells delicious, but with the current turmoil rolling around in my stomach I know food is the last thing I need.

  “I’m doing good. I got a job at Cool Beans.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, I needed a job and Jasper said they needed to hire someone so …” I trail off.

  The sliding door opens, and a man steps out in a pair of cargo shorts and short sleeve white T-shirt. I know instantly he must be Jasper’s dad. They have the same build and similar face shape—the same curve of their jaw.nbsp;

  “Is everything good?” the man asks. “You must be Willa.” He smiles when he sees me. “I’m John.” He holds out a hand and I shake it. “Jasper’s dad.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Make yourself at home,” he tells me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad Jasper invited you.”

  “Thanks. I’m happy to be here.”

  He goes over to his friends then and I return my attention to pushing my food around the plate.

  “Are you not hungry?” Jasper asks, having already devoured half of his plate.

  I shake my head. “I think I might be coming down with something,” I lie.nbsp;

  He frowns. “You should’ve told me. You didn’t have to come.”

  “No, no,” I rush to reassure him. “I wanted to be here, and besides it’s probably from too much sun.”

  It’s a weak excuse, I know, but it’s the best I can come up with on short notice. Lying isn’t exactly my forte.nbsp;

  Jasper finishes eating and I do the best I can, which isn’t much. I throw the rest away, feeling bad since I know his mom went to so much trouble to prepare the meal.

  The radio plays and Jasper stands, holding out his hand to me with a smirk.

  “Why do you always want to dance with me?”

  “Because when I dance with you nothing else exists.”

  I shake my head and take his hand. He leads me to the center of the grassy area and we begin to dance.

  “We look stupid. No one else is dancing.”

  He lowers his mouth to my ear. “The only time we ever truly look stupid is when we think that. As long as you’re having fun and happy all other people see is joy, not stupidity.”

  The last thing I can feel is joy, not with knowing what I have to tell him. I never should’ve let it drag on this far. It was selfish of me, but … it’s felt so good being with him, and I wanted to hold on to that for as long as I could. For years all I’ve had is my illness, dialysis, and doctor’s appointments. For once, I wanted something that was just for me and Jasper was that for me.

  I lay my head against Jasper’s chest as we sway. His heart thumps steadily beneath my ear and tears threaten to fall becaus
e by the end of tonight that heart will be broken.

  Mine too.

  “You’re shaking,” he comments. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can take you home?” I look up at him shaking my head. He cups my cheeks. “Willa? Why—”

  “Everyone, we have an announcement to make,” Jasper’s mom says from the top of the patio, her husband beside her. I didn’t even hear her come outside I’d been so lost in my thoughts.

  Jasper quiets, looking at his parents and I can tell from his inquisitive look he doesn’t know what this is about.

  Once she has everyone’s attention she continues.

  “John and I were able to get information on some of T.J.’s organ recipients. Some people opt to be able to be contacted by the donor’s family if they wish, and we’ve been talking about it for a few months, and we’ve decided we want to meet anyone who’d be interested in meeting us.”

  The blood in my veins runs cold.

  No, no, no, noooo. This is not happening. This can’t be happening. Why today of all days? I think I’m going to faint. Or throw up. Oh, God, don’t throw up.

  I remember so many years ago checking a box saying I’d be agreeable to being contacted by my donor’s family. It’s not something every hospital offers, because let’s face it this is an emotional process, but I liked having the option if they wanted to reach out to me they could. I’d honestly forgotten about it, having filled out that paperwork years ago.

  The people around us murmur and cheer, seemingly pleased by this news.

  Against me, Jasper’s hand flexes at my back. I don’t dare look at him.

  “We found out one of the recipients was a girl T.J.’s age from right here in Santa Monica.”

  “What organ?” Jasper asks, his hand falling from my waist and his voice tight with tension.

  “I’m not sure—kidney, I think.”

  Why is this happening to me? Why let him find out like this? This isn’t fair!

  Jasper glares down at me. “Did you know?” he spits out, hurt and anger leaching into his words. His eyes scream his hurt at me and I hate that I’m the cause. All these months I’d been erasing that look from them and now it’s back all because of me.

  “Did she know what, sweetie?” his mom asks, clueless, not knowing I have a transplant.