Mars

by Rose, Jasmine

  24

  We might be in love

  I lean over his body carefully and kiss his forehead. Taking his hand in mine, I look at him.

  A few locks of his tousled hair fall on his forehead, making him look a few years younger. His lips are dry, but as red as ever. He is almost as pale as the bed sheets he’s sleeping on, but there’s an unnoticeable flush on his cheeks.

  Everything is set.

  The concert is next week, in Vegas. Dad, surprisingly, is supportive of this. Logan’s mom and my dad are coming with us, so that we have two adults with us in case anything happens. My father is actually the one who pulled some strings to get us last minute tickets.

  So far, I have four Logan-wishes planned to accomplish.

  Going to a concert, learning a new language (I have a friend who speaks Spanish, she said she would help out), go on a romantic picnic close to a waterfall and graduate from high school. Logan’s father spoke to the principal and they agreed that Logan’s GPA was high enough for him to graduate early. Thankfully, the principal had taken into consideration Logan’s state. The graduation would be in two weeks.

  I squeeze his hand and smile at him, even though he can’t see me.

  “You’re going to be happy, I promise,” I say.

  Failing to resist the incredible urge to lay a kiss on his lips, I do it.

  “Amaryllis,” he mumbles.

  I freeze, fearing that I woke him. His eyes are shut, he looks asleep.

  “Amaryllis,” he says again. I rub circles into his palm. After a few seconds, his eyes flutter and he opens his eyes. They search his surroundings and he lays his eyes on me. A spark of recognition is there.

  “Did you kiss me?” He asks groggily, licking his lips.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Sleeping Beauty. You’re my prince, then.”

  “Did you just call me a guy?” I ask, feigning hurt feelings.

  “No, I just meant you’re my saving grace.”

  “Saving grace? You’re still good at words when you’re half awake.”

  “I know,” he blinks repeatedly and looks down at his hospital robe and tubes.

  He lets out a small groan. “I hate this.”

  “So do I.”

  “Cancer’s the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  He intertwines his fingers with mine and the giddy feeling in my heart returns. I want to kiss him again. And again. And again.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks.

  I smile. “You have morning breath.”

  I reach into my backpack and take a bottle of water and a pack of mints.

  “That’s why I brought these,” I say. He chuckles and swallows a bit of water before putting three mints in. He sits up and I adjust his pillow to comfort his back. After all the munching is done, he points to his mouth.

  “Could you check if the breath is gone, babe?”

  Babe. I’m babe.

  “Sure,” I switch my seat from the chair to the empty space beside him on the bed.

  Leaning over, I kiss him. “It’s gone,” I say, pulling away.

  He pulls on my shirt and kisses me again. And again. And again.

  It seems like he has the same thoughts as me.

  “Do you know that under the hospital robe, I have nothing but boxers on?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, fixing a loose strand of my hair.

  Coldplay concert, Amy, think about telling him that. Not kissing him.

  “I need to tell you something,” I say, properly sitting back down.

  “Yeah, babe?”

  Cue the mental giggles.

  “Call it magic, call it true. I call it magic when I’m with you,” I sing horribly the first lines of a Coldplay song.

  Logan stifles a laugh. “Singing isn’t for you. Don’t ruin Coldplay for me.”

  “What if I told you that you’ll be seeing them live? In Las Vegas?” I say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  His eyes light up and I swear I can feel his excitement pouring from them, figuratively, of course.

  “You’re not serious.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God. You didn’t?!” He pauses, looking at me with hesitation. “You’re coming though, right?”

  “Heck yeah, I did. And I’m not letting you enjoy one of my favorite bands in front row without me. Guess what else?”

  “What?”

  “Someone’s graduating in two weeks. It’s not me.”

  He gapes, “Are you serious?”

  “More than ever.”

  “I love you,” he says, opening his arms. The exhilarated accent in his words makes my heart beat a little faster.

  The embrace is awkward, but full of love. “Me too.”

  “No, I mean like I love you a lot,” he says. His eyes are watering.

  “I love you a lot a lot.”

  All I covet is this joy of his, because his smile is worth the world.

  25

  I wanna get better

  “Nu-uh, don’t sit together,” says dad, plopping himself in the seat beside mine.

  “Daaaad! Please?” I beg, giving him a puppy dog face.

  “Pleaaase, Mr.Wolfe? I’ll be a sage boy,” says Logan, widening his eyes innocently.

  Dad’s eyes flicker from me to Logan and he groans. “Fine. No funny business.” He sits behind us with Logan’s mom, Jane.

  “Of course not,” says Logan, sitting beside me. He leans and whispers, “Not until he falls asleep.”

  “Logan!” I hit his arm. The flight won’t last more than an hour or two, but Dad has been so sleep deprived lately he might actually drift off.

  He shrugs. “What? I don’t deserve some alone time with my girl?”

  “Of course you do,” I say, blushing at the ‘my girl’.

  Logan puts on his seat belt and takes out a pack of gum from his bag and hands one to me.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Didn’t you ever go on a plane before?”

  “…”

  Logan gasps. “You never went on a plane before?! Take the gum, woman!”

  I stuff the strawberry-flavored gum in my mouth and chew on it.

  “You traveled before?”

  He nods. “My grandparents live in New York; we visit them every two years.”

  The plane starts to move and I find myself clutching on Logan’s arm. There’s a building up of pressure in my head and it makes me feel like when you go on the amusement park ride that slides up, then down.

  Logan pokes my cheek. “We’re flying now, scaredy cat.”

  I look out the window and gasp. “We’re flying.”

  “I just said that, don’t you ever listen to me?” says Logan in a highly exaggerated white girl voice.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, it’s just that, like, I’ve like never been flying before,” I answer in the same tone.

  “Such a white girl, psht. Where’s your Starbucks?”

  “You’re one to speak, you can’t live without coffee.”

  “True. Remember when we went out for, as you said, a hot beverage together?”

  I smile. “Yeah. That seems like forever ago.”

  “It was only a few months ago,” he says pensively. “I never thought falling in love could take only a few months. You proved me wrong.”

  I take his hand in mine. “Ever so cheesy. Do you have a movie?”

  “I’m so cheesy, Swiss cheese gets jealous of me. And of course, who do you think I am?” he says.

  He reaches into his backpack and takes out his tablet, earphones and two neck pillows.

  “The Breakfast Club?” he says.

  I nod, putting one of the neck pillows on. “I’ve been wanting to watch it.”

  “I know.”

  He hands me an earplug and puts one. He places the tablet on the tray and presses play. I put my head on his shoulder and his he
ad rests on mine. We watch the movie together.

  Faster than we realize, the plane lands. It hits me; I’m in Las Vegas. With Logan. About to see a Coldplay concert.

  Can life get any better?

  26

  Te quiero

  Walking to the taxi, I hold onto Logan’s hand, whom I feel will faint of excitement any moment now. His eyes are big and sparkly. His cheeks are red from the slight Las Vegan winter, but he looks warm, all bundled up.

  “Logan?” I say as he stops walking.

  He turns to me. “We’re seeing the greatest band tonight. Together. Do you know how happy I am right now? Oh God, I love you,” he suddenly lets go of my hand and picks me up to spin me around.

  Giggling, I tug him to the taxi, where our parents look shocked, but proud for some reason. His mom sits between us in the back seat, which made me want to laugh.

  Now though, we are heading to the motel and catching up on an hour of sleep or so, to be wide awake at the concert tonight. We’re staying a night here, and flying back first thing in the morning.

  We arrive at a small motel named Renais and check in. Logan gives my hand a squeeze as he leaves to his room, beside mine. Jane smiles at me and sets her bags on one bed; I set mine on the other. I close the curtains; it is still 10 a.m. in Vegas.

  Jane goes to the bathroom and changes into baggy pants and a plain blue shirt. She ties her wet hair up in a pony tail.

  I change into a pair of leggings and a big J’adore shirt and settle into my bed, seconds away from sleeping. The pillows in the motel are like clouds cradling my head.

  “Amy?” says Jane.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  I smile. “For?”

  “Giving my son a miracle.”

  “Isn’t that from the movie A Walk to Remember?”

  She let out a chuckle. “When we found out about his cancer, I watched every movie about cancer and cried.”

  “Movies like that make me believe that when he goes, he’ll go up there with a smile on his face.”

  “He has a beautiful smile.”

  “Hmm, I know,” I say, closing my eyes and sleeping peacefully for the first time in a few hours, with the image of Logan’s smile in my mind.

  Someone knocks at the door for the fifth time. I jump, messing up the pink lipstick. Jane goes to the door and glares at the wall.

  “Logan Thomas Masterson, it’s 6:01. Calm your pants and wait for us, or else.”

  “Or else what, you’ll kill me? No need for that, it’s already happening.” his voice rises jokingly.

  “Logan!” Both Jane and I shout warningly.

  Jane turns to me and grins. “You look amazing.”

  I had a short long-sleeved white lace dress on, with gray leggings. To keep me from freezing to death, I wore a black leather jacket over it. After showering, I straightened my hair and put a part of it up with a bow tie.

  “You look better, though,” I answer. She is wearing an overly big dark green sweater that almost looked like a dress, with a belt on her waist. Her hair is straight and her makeup is done nicely and simply.

  She opens the door and Logan enters, sighing. “Finally!”

  “What took you so—” He stops when he sees me. “Wow.”

  “Wow right back at you,” I say. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater and pale jeans. Boys look good in jeans. His hair, which is starting to grow back, is still hidden under a beanie.

  “I just—you look beautiful. Even more than always.”

  I do a little bow with my dress, feeling my cheeks flush. “Thank you. Did you take your medicine?”

  Since we’re going to a concert, he had to take an extra dose of the pills that lessen the pain in his head.

  “’Course. Do you have the tickets?” asks Logan, looking at his mom. She nods, patting her coat’s pocket.

  “You both look great,” says dad, who had cleaned up nicely as well. “Now let’s go, the cab is waiting downstairs.”

  We leave. The bubble of anticipation in my heart starts to grow and grow.

  The cab ride is filled with Logan tapping his feet impatiently, Jane and I scolding him and my father nodding his head to Elton John on the radio. Apparently the cab driver had similar tastes in music as my dad.

  The sun hasn’t set just yet, but the famous Vegas lights are starting to show. I feel amazing, being in a different city than my home town sparks excitement.

  While Logan’s mother hands me the tickets in front of the small club where the private concert is being held, she says: “Don’t drink. Don’t be rude. Don’t touch things that shouldn’t be touched.”

  It’s hard not to laugh, it really is.

  “I won’t.”

  Logan’s mom and my dad had decided to go for a friendly dinner and explore, before picking us up. I like the idea of them spending time together; it’s been a long time since my father has had a friend.

  I glance at Logan as we enter the club. There are only about a hundred people, which is nothing. We have arrived early; therefore we rushed through the small crowd to be as close to the stage as possible. Logan is clutching my hand too hard. He looks dizzy because of the people pushing into him. I remember him saying that he is claustrophobic.

  “Logan? Breathe,” I say into his ear, over all of the chatter.

  “Look at me,” I command. He does. “Breathe in, breathe out.”

  He obliges. He looks ahead and takes a deep breath, color seeming to come back to his face. “We’re seeing Coldplay in a half an hour.”

  “Indeed,” I repeat, smiling. “You’ll also meet them in the supposed backstage.”

  “Oh God,” he grins, “What would I do without you, Amaryllis?”

  He offers to take my hand and I hold his, feeling like nothing in the entire world can take this moment from me. Chris Martin walks in, causing everyone to scream. The rest of the band follows. I look at Logan, who is smiling wider than anyone else and screaming along with them.

  “VEGAAAS!” shouts Chris Martin, as the background music of the first song begins. It is a slow one, A Sky Full of Stars.

  He rests his chin on the top of my head. He does this a lot now; it’s my favorite thing in the world. I am afraid to squeeze him too hard, with the fear of him collapsing in my arms. He is fragile, but his way of being represents him as the one of the strongest people I know.

  “Amaryllis?” whispers Logan, close to my ear, as I hold up my phone to join in the flashlight wave. I sway along to the sweet, raw music.

  “Not now. Watch your band play.”

  “Wait, I need to say this. There used to be a time where I was mad at God for making me get cursed to die before I fell in love,” he says softly, holding my face in his hands. “But God sent you to me. You’re my angel.”

  I want to cry of joy and heartache, but I don’t.

  I squeeze his hand. “And you’re mine. Now shut up and enjoy the music.”

  27

  Home

  “Amaryllis? C’mon, baby, wake up. Amarylliiiis? Please wake up. Babe. Babe. Baby, please?”

  Mentally, I am punching whoever is saying this so hard they lost consciousness. But, I recognize the voice and wake up with a start. Logan is looking down at me with twinkles in his eyes so bright the biggest star in the universe would be jealous.

  “Logan?”

  He smiles at me. “Come with me.”

  “Uh, it’s 4 am. I need sleep.”

  “Pleeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase. Baby, pleaaaaaaaase.”

  “No, the concert killed me,” I whisper, fearing that his mom will hear me and wake up.

  “I’m already getting killed anyway,” he jokes. At my glare, he stops smiling. “Please. I want to show you something.”

  I groan. “Fine. Now?”

  He eagerly nods. I get the covers off me and watch as his eyes widen. I look down to where he is looking and blush. Since the motel apparently put too much heating in the rooms, I ended up wearing short yoga shorts to bed. Thi
s means that my freshly shaved legs, my short ones might I add, are completely exposed to him.