Red plastic cups were shoved into our hands upon arrival. I immediately dumped the contents of mine into Tyler’s. Thing One and Thing Two, Mellie’s wannabe clones, were perched in the kitchen, looking like they missed the memo that Mean Girls was so 2004. They looked me up and down, whispering to one another as we walked past them on our way out to the deck. I looked for Penelope, but she was already lost in the crowd.
Tyler passed me his keys and took a sip of his drink. I sat on the lounge furniture outside, holding my empty cup and dangling his keys in the other. I watched Tyler in awe while he talked to his friends. He soared like an effortless social butterfly.
My friend led a double life. On the one hand, he had plenty of girls to choose from, was captain of the swim team, and leader to the jock tribe. On the other hand, he had me, where he could just be himself. He could share his secret love of books and his need to binge watch the original Star Trek series for the seventh time. He could be honest with his quick wit and laugh until he cried because there was no one to judge him when he did. But I knew it wasn’t enough for him. He needed the excitement of this world too—a world where I stuck out like a sore thumb.
My social anxiety was too crippling to fit in with these people. I had been in school with most of them my entire life, and they had witnessed some of my most painful moments. Like when I fainted at the fourth grade Christmas concert while singing Jingle Bells in front of the whole school. Or when my nose would start bleeding in the middle of class, and the countless times the ambulance came because I was curled on the floor in the fetal position sweating and screaming in pain. Eventually their parents warned them to stay away from me, thinking whatever I had might be contagious.
The music from inside was muffled until someone opened the door to join Tyler and his friends on the deck. I leaned back on the wicker bench, bringing my knees up to my chest, and I hugged myself for warmth. It wasn’t cold enough to see my breath, but I should have worn a jacket. According to Penelope, a jacket would have messed up my outfit.
The Tiki torches that surrounded the edge of the deck illuminated everyone with a slight orange glow, especially Tyler. The smile he wore was fake, but none of them knew it. To most, he seemed genuinely happy. But I knew better. The smile didn’t touch his eyes. His busy brain was preoccupied—probably worried about me. I could tell by the way his eyes shifted back and forth, never actually looking anyone in the eye.
I turned away from him and the other revelers and looked up at the stars. It was a clear night, and the big dipper hung brilliantly in the sky. All summer I had lain awake looking at those same stars, pondering my imminent death. I would get lost in the beauty of it all, contemplating what was waiting for me, only to be pulled back to reality with the sounds of the mechanical devices forcing my body to breathe. The drips of the medicine barely giving me life. The urgent footfalls of the nurses as they rescued me time and time again.
My life seemed insignificant next to the vast unending universe. There were moments when I wished I could just die—end my pain—stop the suffering. I sought comfort in the dark. The beautiful night sky reminded me that life would continue with or without me.
I thought maybe the sky would always be a safe place—a solace. But, it wasn’t. My mouth was dry. I looked into my empty cup and decided water might help drown my insecurities. I walked by Tyler and his group of friends towards the door to the kitchen, and I heard over my shoulder, “Damn, Ty, Swayzi is lookin’ hot tonight. You finally hit that?” Tyler cursed the boy out, and I pretended not to hear.
The warmth of the house hit me as I walked inside. I filled my cup with water from the tap and took a big swig. Mellie and her followers appeared in the reflection of the kitchen window in front of me.
They were laughing, Thing One saying, “I thought Bino died.”
“Bino?” Thing Two naïvely asked.
“Albino, you idiot. That pale skin and that white hair.” Mellie wrinkled her nose in disgust. “She’s not even sick, she just does it to get attention.”
“Maybe she fakes it, so Tyler will stick around.”
“You mean worship the ground she walks on?”
“He doesn’t worship her,” Mellie clarified loud enough for everyone to hear. “Gross. He feels sorry for her, and he’s too nice to cut her out of his life.”
I dropped the cup into the sink and pushed past the crowd and out of the kitchen, vowing not to give Mellie and her minions the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I finally reached the bathroom and locked myself inside.
I sat on the floor, wrapped my arms around my legs, and cried. I cried for letting Mellie get to me. I cried because a part of me always wondered if what she said was true—that Tyler was just being nice. Most of all, I cried because I hadn’t cried in a really long time, not even when they told me I only had two months to live.
Linda had cried. I remember watching as she pleaded with the doctors to do more, being my voice—my advocate. Penelope was a wreck; I would catch her mumbling to herself between sobs. And my heart wanted to beat out of my chest when Tyler let a few tears stream down his face when we heard the news. But even then, I still didn’t cry.
There was a knock at the door. “Go away!” I yelled.
“Swayzi? Are you in there?” Penelope called over the loud music trying the door knob. I struggled to catch my breath, attempting to stop the flood of tears, but before I could, Penelope opened the door, shut and locked it behind her.
“What happened? What’s wrong?” Her voice was rife with concern.
“How did you get in here?” I asked between short breaths. “The door was locked.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Yes, it was,” I mumbled between hiccupped sobs.
“Swayzi, tell me what happened. Are you okay?”
I stopped crying and lay down on the cold porcelain tile. Despite the emotional turmoil, I felt absolutely numb.
“Do I need to call Linda?” Penelope was growing frantic.
I thought about answering her, but my lips wouldn’t move. My body had lost feeling, and my soul was floating just above me like we were two separate entities. I could see Penelope’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t communicate with her at all.
When I didn’t respond, she left.
I was alone, my face slack, my eyes distant, my body frozen in place. Was I breathing? Yes, good. At least I wasn’t dead.
Penelope returned and quickly shut the door again, then Tyler fell to the ground next to me. His first instinct was to check my pulse, his cold fingers touching my flushed neck. “What happened?” Tyler accused Penelope.
“I don’t know. I found her crying in the bathroom, then she just shut down.”
“Swayzi.” His words were gentle, willing me to communicate. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
I couldn’t respond.
He lay down beside me, his nose almost touching mine, his cool hand resting on my arm. “Sway, talk to me,” he whispered. He moved the hair that had fallen in my face, and his thumb wiped my mascara stained cheek. Then, like he had so many times before, he held his hand over my wrist, his two fingers resting on my pulse, sending a tidal wave of comfort through me. The simple gesture had become our secret hand shake since I underwent chemo.
But I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to suffer in silence. The transition from denial to anger was excruciating. I was angry at the doctors for not being able to fix me. I was angry at Linda for being irresponsible and getting pregnant at such a young age. She brought a sick, burdensome child into the world. How could she do that? I was angry at Tyler and Penelope for not letting me quit. They made me feel like a failure.
I could feel Tyler’s presence, and his concern for me only heightened my resentment. I wished for some way to express my anger. I wanted to push him away, to yell and scream at him—to demand to know why he would subject himself to loving someone so breakable.
While I lay unmoving, unable to speak, my anger shifted from them to myself. Why
was I such a coward? How could I let my life slip away so incomplete?
Penelope paced around the small bathroom.
“I bet it’s her meds. We should call Linda. Or 911,” she insisted.
“No, we promised her no more hospitals.” Tyler reached into my pocket and took his keys. “Get the door. I’m taking her home.”
Tyler bent down and wrapped his arm under around my torso, and his other under my knees. He groaned as he hoisted me up and curled my head into his shoulder.
A line of people had formed outside the bathroom. Penelope pushed them aside, making a path for Tyler. The music stopped, the only noise were the whispers from the partygoers.
The fresh air nipped at my bare arms when he stepped outside, but I felt the slightest bit of relief being rid of Mellie. Penelope drove Tyler’s truck home with my feet draped over her legs. They didn’t bother with a seat belt, but I felt safe lying in Tyler’s lap, his arms still protectively wrapped around me. I wish the car ride was silent, that they were so upset over my meltdown they were at a loss for words—but that wasn’t the case. This was the first time Tyler had ever let Penelope drive his truck, and it was painful for both of them. She was terrible at driving a stick, and every time the gear shift grinded, Tyler lost a few years off his life.
Linda rushed to help when we arrived home. It wasn’t until I finally felt the familiar touch of my pillow that I could breathe steadily again. After Tyler lay me down on my side, Linda covered me with a blanket.
“Are you okay, Baby?” Linda asked, stroking the hair from my eyes.
“Yeah, better now,” I managed, closing my eyes.
“Is it her meds?”
“Could be. She’s still adjusting to them.” Linda turned to Tyler. “You can go home. I can take it from here,” she said quietly.
“No, I would prefer to stay,” he said, sitting at the computer desk next to my bed.
“It wasn’t a question, Tyler. Go home. You can see her tomorrow. Your mother would not be happy if you missed your first day of school.”
Tyler sighed as he stood up. Through half-opened eyes, I watched him linger at the doorway before he quietly left my room.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, uncomfortable and sweaty, my heart racing. I tossed and turned until a quiet tapping on my bedroom window stirred me awake. I had no idea how long I had slept for or what time it was, but my room was still pitch black.
For a moment, I thought maybe the tapping was just in my head, but then I heard Tyler call my name, “Sway, wake up.” His voice was muffled by another tap on the window.
My head was heavy when I pushed my window open to find Tyler crouched down on the roof of our porch. The shingles had been worn down from all the times he had climbed up our poplar trees over the years and stood in that exact spot.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Look at the moon,” he said, nodding towards the sky.
For a moment, I wanted to yell at him to go away, but then I saw what he was talking about. The eclipsed moon was blood red, like it had collided with the sun and swallowed its colors. It hung unnaturally large in the sky, and I felt like I could reach out and touch it.
I took a deep breath. “It’s beautiful.”
“Want to go for a drive?” he asked.
My heart went soft looking at his questioning eyes. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
We drove in silence for a while down the empty city streets, normally lined with parked rental cars from all the tourists. It was eerie seeing the town so vacant and silent.
I watched the lights of Rowan fade behind us in the side mirror, the wind loud enough to break our awkward silence. A few lights lit the deserted road as we passed the airport and continued down the highway.
“Where to?” Tyler asked, his eyes briefly met mine.
“Anywhere.” My voice was groggy, and my eyes still burned from crying.
I wanted to forget Mellie’s house, tuck it away in the deepest part of my memory bank. A flash of Tyler carrying me out of the party while everyone watched played behind my closed eyelids, and I cringed. It was always Tyler. Most of my memories involved him in some way. We had been next door neighbors since birth and were inseparable from the beginning. Tyler was there when I had my first bone break at three years old. My right arm from jumping on a trampoline. Since then, I had broken too many bones to count, and Tyler had been there for most of them. By the seventh grade, they permanently excused me from gym class or sports of any kind. In a town as small as Rowan, popularity was directly linked to sports. As a natural athlete and captain of the swim team, Tyler fared well, but I instantly became an outcast.
My more serious health scares began at thirteen, and by the time I turned fourteen, my panel of doctors recommended chemotherapy. One day I stayed home sick from school, and during Tyler’s lunch break, he came to check on me. I had begun losing my hair in clumps, and I was holding a handful of my fallen hair when Tyler walked in on me crying into my pillow. He dragged me out of bed into the bathroom and without hesitation, shaved his head right before he helped me shave mine.
I smiled at the memory just before Tyler broke the silence.
“Say something.”
“What do you want me to say?” I folded my arms and looked out the passenger window. “Just another day in the life of Swayzi, right? Of course, I would have to be carried out of the only high school party I’ve ever been to.”
“Sway,” Tyler exhaled, “why do you care what they think anyways?”
“Easy for you to say.” I huffed. “You’re like…a Greek God to those people. And I’m basically the walking, talking, version of the plague. Literally, I’m the sick, dy—,”
“Enough,” he cut me off.
“No, it’s not enough. You are all about the one-word conversations lately. It’s seriously painful. This isn’t us, Tyler. There’s a massive elephant in here with us, and we’re both afraid to scare it.”
In a few beats, Tyler turned onto a gravel road and pulled into an abandoned parking lot. He slammed the truck into neutral, his hands clutching the steering wheel.
“I’m not afraid to scare any elephant, Sway. It’s just... I’m doing the best I can here. None of us know how to be right now. And you haven’t exactly been an open book either.”
He was right, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“I just wish everything could go back to normal…b-before,” I stuttered.
Tyler got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him in frustration.
I followed, slamming my door also. I hated that this conversation needed to be had. But I wondered if Tyler even registered the news of my fate, or if maybe this was his way of coping.
“You can’t just walk away from me!”
He quickly turned back, facing me from across the bed of his truck, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Things have never been normal! You’re dying, Swayzi!” His voice cracked on my name.
My breath caught. Hearing him say it out loud hurt more than I thought it would.
A single tear fell down his cheek. “I don’t want you to die,” he whispered.
We stood across from one another letting the words sink in, waiting for whoever would break the silence first.
“No one is good at dying,” he broke, “so stop trying to be.”
“You think I’m trying to be good at it?” I cried back. “It would be so much easier if I just got hit by a truck! Then I wouldn’t need to worry about goodbyes or have to wonder what life will be like for all of you when I’m gone. If Linda will remember to pay the water bill, or if she’ll ever get married; if you’ll go to college, or if Penelope will travel to Europe.”
Tyler looked down, his hair hanging over his eyes. The brake lights beamed red against his face and the exhaust from the truck billowed around him as he hunched over in defeat.
“I’m not trying to be good at dying, Tyler. I’m trying to minimize the damage I’m leaving behind.”
&nbs
p; “It might be easier for you if you got hit by a truck, but not for any of us.” He met my eyes again. “We have a rare gift; we get to say goodbye.”
“Some gift,” I scoffed. “We’re all walking on egg shells.”
He didn’t respond, instead he leaned into his truck and turned it off, closed the door again and made for the tree line. “Where are you going?” I called.
He didn’t answer, so I followed him down the dark tree-lined path toward Passenger Bay.
I could hear the gentle surf before we arrived at the overlook, an old wooden balcony once built for tourists to view migrating whales. We used to come here every year as kids when they would set up bubble-net-feeds for the humpback whales. Linda would pack a picnic, and the three of us would sit for hours waiting to get a glimpse of the big beautiful creatures. While we waited, Tyler and I would throw rocks at the ocean when Linda wasn’t looking. One day, Tyler hit one of the sail boats tied to the dock. Linda threatened to not bring us back the next year. Turns out, it was our last.
After Rowan expanded the downtown marina, the docks were deemed “unsafe” and abandoned. The whale feeding was relocated and soon the bay grew deserted. The boat launch became a staging ground for drunken high school parties. From the looks of the small beach below, we had just missed a recent one. Remains of a campfire blackened the sand, and broken beer bottles sparkled in the reddish moonlight.
Now weathered, the balcony held small yellow signs warning that the deck was no longer structurally sound. The pillars jutting into the sand below swaying slightly with every gust of wind. My heart quickened at each minor movement.
The eclipsed moon reflected like a painted sunrise in the placid water below, causing the snow dusted mountains across the bay and the bright ice of Northern Gate Glacier to glow pink under its light. The former bustling bay once lined with sail boats, house boats, and fishing boats was empty. A thin layer of fog hovered just above the old fishing docks below. In the red light, they looked so dreary and creepy that it gave me shivers.
Empress Unveiled Page 2
