Between the Stars and Sky (9 page)

EIGHT MONTHS AGO.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

This is the sound of life. But the sound of me is all sweat and tears as they drip down and die against the floor like bombs. Shivers as they eat away at my skin and leave my bones on the floor dead and gone and alone.

I whisper, “She’s going to be okay.”

She’s not.

She’s already dead.

They’ve told me but I won’t believe it so I say anything else, anything but the truth because I don’t want to believe it.

I won’t believe it.

Because this is not right.

This is not her dying.

It is me.

“Jackson?”Dad puts a hand on my shoulder as someone in white pulls a plug from the wall, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing how he says my name like a question. Like I’m not real or this isn’t or he’s afraid I’ll explode and shatter into a million tiny pieces if he says the wrong words.

And I might.

I want to.

If it will save her.

And then-

Beep.

Beat
.

Beep.

Beat
.

Beat
.

Beat
.

“Mom?”

Dad says, “She’s gone.”

“No,” I start. No no no no no I can still hear her heart beating and I can still see her chest rising and falling up and down and up and down and she is there I can see her.

She can’t be gone.

“No,” I gasp.

Mom
.

She is not dead.

I am.

*   *   *

Later, I still don’t remember.

And the sound of death?

Tears.

Heartbeats going-

beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Because no one hears the dead.

Only the sound of heartbeats-

mocking-

living-

alone.

138

I HAVE BEEN HERE BEFORE.

I am angry.

I am sad.

A bottle of whiskey sits in my lap. I don’t drink it. I haven’t even opened the bottle. But the want is there. The need is there, too. I wouldn’t even blame myself if I got so drunk I forgot my name.

No one knows this secret: When Mom died, I did too. And I did so at the bottom of a bottle. Every single day I died again and again until I didn’t feel anything but the cold numbness that comes from not being alive.

I am close.

So, so close to drinking again. I can feel the desire deep inside me when I think of Sarah with that fucking shadow, that man. When I see her on the hill every time I close my eyes. The damn fireworks blink and fade and every happy memory I have with her bleeds to sweet whiskey and back.

But this is wrong.

She
is wrong.

And I suddenly know even an empty bottle can’t help me forget my life, my past, my present; I’ve tried it. Not this time. Not now. And just thinking about the smell of whiskey makes my stomach hurt, burn.

I’m holding the bottle because I can.

Because I am stronger than this.

Than everything.

Without thinking, I throw the bottle into the lake and watch it sink and drown. I will never face that part of me again, never. I won’t. I can’t. Because somewhere my mother is watching. Even in my memories, she is there. And somewhere beyond the place I am now, is a different girl waiting to meet the man I’ve started to become.

I will not be
him
again.

I will be stronger.

I will be someone to love.

I will be someone my mother would be proud of.

I am the stars.

I am their stories.

I am more than this.

And then-

a girl walks out of the shadows and into the light of the fire, her skin glowing like the sun set long ago.

She says, “Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl. Their story starts like many do, with a lost boy and a lonely girl, but that’s not the way it ends.”

I spit, “How does it end, Sarah? With you in the arms of another guy? Because that’s one hell of a twist I did not see coming.”

She is close now, so close I can smell the fire in her hair from the festival. See the tears glistening on her cheeks like rain. “This girl had sunset hair and wishing eyes. Or, at least the boy thought so. When he looked into her eyes, he could see the world as he wanted it to be; she was so filled with hope, it made everything in life seem possible.

“But she was afraid. She had never been in love before, and this boy was a whole new world to her. One she loved, but one she was afraid of too. She didn’t want to lose him, and she didn’t know how to keep him.” Her voice cracks and cracks me. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know what you probably think but it’s not like that at all! I don’t know what I should say yet, what I shouldn’t. This is so new to me. I know I should have told you where I was going, but it’s not what you think-”

“Then what? What do I think, Sarah? Tell me.”

“It was-”

“
Tell me
! Tell me the truth.”

“It was Miles,” she whispers, her words no more than harsh breaths in the air. “He’s giving me my job back. I wasn’t supposed to tell you until it was official. Don’t you know, Jackson? There’s no one for me but you.”

And I break.

I break so hard, so fast I shatter.

Because this is it.

This is still it.

And now I know I’m strong enough no matter which path I choose.

This is it.

The Firelight Fall.

The moment.

The beginning of the end of the beginning.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her.

She shakes her head. “I am.” In that moment, that second, I look into her eyes and I know we’re okay. We are stronger than anything now, than any tiny thing that comes between us. And together, after this, we can have the world.

A boy steps out from the trees. It is five minutes until midnight, and I cannot breathe. “The Firelight Fall is a celebration of summer,” he begins, his words jumping slow around the cold night air, finding paths beyond the two fires burning before us. There is nothing but his words and the soft noises of boats moving through the water in the distance. Nothing but this: “And tonight, we remember a man named Jameson and his love named Emily. We honor them by jumping from this cliff into the lake they loved so much, and we do that by running between these two fires, burning so brightly in the night.”

The night is still, electric.

My hand in Sarah’s, I am alive.

The boy continues, “Emily loved fires, so in that we remember her. Jameson loved the water, and in that we remember him. We fall to live, we fall to remember, and we fall to forever jump from season to season, life to life. This is the beginning. The end. Are you brave enough to fall?”

I am so, so alive.

And I am brave.

With Sarah, I am.

“Jackson,” she says. My name.

I squeeze her hand. “Sarah.”

All around us people are running, jumping. Screams fill the air, shouts and cries and laughs. Hands are in hands and hearts are in hearts. Some are alone, some not. But everyone is running, everyone is reaching for that scary and beautiful place where the sky meets the lake in an infinite sea of stars.

This is it.

We run.

Past the fires, into the night.

The stars before us, beneath us.

We run.

We jump.

We fly.

THE LAKE IS BLACK AND yet the waves move forward on tongues of white, reaching for the sand as if to save a life. But this beach is death; the ocean a hell of currents pulling back, dragging things down until they cannot find the light.

Then, my heart stops.

Beat
. Stop.

There is a body in the water.
Sarah
.

Beat
. Start.

The world erupts.

“SAVE HER!”

“Her body is white.”

“Did you see what happened?”

“SHE’S NOT BREATHING!”

“Get the boy!”

“Call the police!”

Am I alive-

or not?

No, I am just pretending. And at the end of this horrible dream I will wake and fly away.

“Jackson? Jackson!” A voice is screaming at me. Water crashing. Waves hit me. Light shines in my face. My eyes can’t close. “Get up! Are you okay? Can you hear me? Jackson!”

Miles.

And then-

I feel the cold.

I feel alive.

And

Sarah

Is

Gone

Sarah

Is

Gone.

“Sarah!” I am screaming, crying, choking. I am on my feet, tripping in the water. Stones hit my feet. I can’t see. My body feels so weak, so useless. “Where is she? Where is she, Miles! Sarah!”

He grips my shoulders, turns me around. My eyes find his and I see everything I never wanted to see.

She’s gone.

He says, “It’s too late.”

It’s happening again.

Again.

I’ve been here before.

I can’t handle this.

Not again.

Not again.

Not again.

Please, not again.

*   *   *

Dawn is an inferno of light, and yet I am cold and Sarah is still and blue and dark.

I refuse to leave the Point.

Maybe I’ll never leave.

After a while, Miles joins me. He doesn’t speak. Not at first. Until he says, “The cops want us to leave.”

I don’t speak.

He says, “I told them to fuck off.”

I know I should smile. I don’t.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jackson.”

I know. But maybe I don’t.

“We have to leave sometime.”

Okay. Or not.

Finally, he asks, “What do you see?”

“Everything,” I whisper. “Nothing. I don’t know. I just feel better up here away from the world. Like nothing has happened yet even though it has. I’m frozen. I don’t feel anything and then I do and then I don’t. I can’t move, Miles. I don’t want to just yet. Maybe in a while I’ll be able to move, to leave, to go. And maybe the world will stop moving too.”

“Okay,” he tells me. “Okay.”

He doesn’t leave me.

I can see Atlantis from here.

I can see my house.

And soon I’ll be able to see the stars.

*   *   *

“You need to eat,” Miles tells me.

I nod, but don’t.

And as darkness finally takes hold of the world around me, I look up at the sky and find a star. Just above the moon, a little to the right. The second star.

Our star.

Only at night can I see my heart. And slowly, and then all at once, I finish our story.

“This,” he breathes. “Always this.”

“Always?” the girl asks.

“Always,” the boy whispers. “I will always love you like this.”

“Like what?” the girl asks.

“Like you are my sun, my moon, my stars. Like you are the after and the before. Because you are everything and all that is in between.”

The sun sets.

It rises.

Sets.

147

I FIND THIS JOURNAL.

Slowly, with hands that shake like the sun against noon at the peak of summer, I open it. Bend back the first page. Her handwriting hits me. Hard. Harder. Hardest. And I begin to remember the way she smelled, the way she laughed. Random things. My hand brushes the paper, pushing her words down until I’m certain they won’t ink on my skin. Until I know this is it: Her words are forever on this paper, always. They stay.

My Jackson,

My son.

I am gone.

And I am sorry.

This journal is yours. In it, you will find me.

And maybe, hopefully, answers.

Son,

It has always been silly to me that I call you son. Ironic, really. Because while you are my son, you are always the thing I wake to, sleep to. You are the thing I spin around.

My son.

My sun.

I am not afraid of death.

I am afraid of leaving my family.

Are those the same?

No one knows I came up here. I came at night to avoid the town. They can ask so many questions about so many things. Especially Mrs. Porter. Last time, she went on and on about how she was going to steal the mayor from his wife. I’m not sure how I ever managed to convince her I care, but that’s half the charm of this place. It’s our own slice of paradise. Our own little corner of the world. And here? Now? I am alone.

And I want to be.

I have cancer.

Cancer.

That’s a horrible word.

I hate it.

I despise it.

Because it is killing me.

I wish I could kill it.

Kill cancer.

It should be easy.

I want to live. I WANT TO LIVE.

So I should be able to.

Right?

I needed to get away from home, from Jackson. I can’t look at him without wanting to tell him the truth, but I refuse. How can you tell your son you won’t make it to his college graduation? That you won’t make it to his wedding.

How do you tell your world-

that there won’t be a sun tomorrow?

I don’t know.

I don’t know anything anymore.

I have so many questions.

So few answers.

But I do know this: I want Jackson to be happy without me. I want him to miss me. I don’t want to leave him, but if I do. When I do. I want him to remember me and then move on with his life.

Remember me.

And then find someone to love even more than I love him. Is that possible? I’m not even sure. Because I love him more than my own life.

More than myself.

I have to tell him.

Love,

I fell in love with your father the night of the Firelight Festival, Jackson. We jumped together, did you know that? I almost didn’t, but he took my hand and pulled me close and we jumped together. I knew everything would be okay the moment he took my hand.

And now?

Now I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on. And it kills me. Because I want to hold on for you, Jackson. I want you to know everything will be okay.

And I wonder-

I wonder if you will jump. If you already have. If, like me, you thought it would be the answer to everything, the key to unlocking what your future holds.

Jackson, the Firelight Fall is not about the jump or the fall or even the bravery behind it. Your father helped me see that, and after I fell in love with him I realized the Firelight Fall is, truly, a vast and immortal piece of our history.

Do you remember what I told you?

That the Firelight Fall is a love story?

It is.

Remember that, Jackson.

It is so scary to fall in love. And in so many ways, the Firelight Fall is about falling in love or out of it. The idea that if you survive, it’s wonderful. Kind of like love. But if you don’t, well. It’s like dying, Jackson, falling out of love. Getting your heart broken.

I remember, with your father, I was so afraid to let someone in, let someone see the most real parts of me. And with you, my son, I was so nervous you would see those parts and think less of me, think I wasn’t perfect enough for you. But I fell for your father, and I fell for you. Both in an instant, both all at once. Both times nearly killed me, nearly ripped my heart to bits until the second I let myself fall and fall and fall in love.

Love is always scary before it isn’t. It kills you and rips you open and puts you back together and lets you fly.

Falling in love is the bravest thing we can do.

That’s what the Firelight Fall is all about.

Sometimes, the fall is the most important part.

Because Jackson?

You never truly fall out of love.

It’s always there.

Just like me.

I break.

I think, Mom.

I heal.

I wish you could see how much you meant to me
.

The memory of her is my heartbeat.

And with that, I go on.

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