Love, Lucas (13 page)

After closing my eyes for a moment, I take a deep breath and start kicking. A swell is coming toward me and I paddle along and watch the wave break. I feel it push my board. Hard. I slide my foot forward and crouch, just like I did on the smaller waves, but lean forward too far. My arms flail and I fall.

My eyes are open when I hit the water. They burn and sting at the same time. The wave rolls me around and I have no idea which way is up. I try to swim and even open my eyes again but all I can see is darkness. I’m surrounded by darkness. And cold.

My hands touch the bottom and I move my body so my feet push off the sand and launch me toward the top. My breath is almost gone when I finally reach the surface and I gasp as my head comes out of the water.

I try to wipe the salt out of my eyes and a wave pushes me under again. I swallow a mouthful as I get hit by another one. They keep coming and coming, pushing me down every single time. I have no idea where my board is. I struggle to stay afloat and try to swim but I’m so disoriented I’m not sure where to go. Maybe I really will die . . .

And now I’m not sure I’m okay with that.

I break the surface once more and someone shouts next to me. The voice sounds far away but familiar. I’m surprised when a hand grabs my arm and pulls me up.

“Oakley! I’m right here.” I blink the salt water out of my eyes and focus on Carson’s face. His dark eyes are filled with worry. “Can you swim?”

I nod and attempt to put one arm in front of the other.

“I’ve got you.” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me along with him until I can touch the ground. I lean against him as he helps me out of the water. We make it to the beach and I fall to my knees in the sand. I’ve swallowed a bunch of salt water and cough half of it up.

“Are you okay?”

I swipe my sticky wet hair out of my eyes and take a shaky breath. “I’m fine.” I should have listened to Lucas.
Don’t be stupid.
Because that’s exactly what I was. Stupid. “Where’s my board?” I know it’s not hooked to my ankle anymore since I felt it rip away when the wave took me down.

“I’m not worried about your board, I’m worried about you.” He crouches down to my level but I don’t look at him. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I nod and glance up. He looks relieved and then his expression changes; he doesn’t look concerned at all anymore. The muscles in his jaw are clenched and his face is flushed. He looks furious. He grabs my hands and tries to pull me to my feet but I’m too wobbly and fall back in the sand. I let go of his hands and wrap my arms around my middle, taking big shaky breaths. He doesn’t say anything, just waits until I’m ready. Once I’ve calmed down a bit, I reach out a hand and he helps me up. My legs wobble again but I think I’m okay.

“Sorry. My legs aren’t cooperating.”

He watches me for a second, a concerned look on his face, and then . . . he loses it. “Would you like to explain to me what exactly you were thinking out there?”

“Excuse me?”

“Were you trying to kill yourself? Because you were doing a pretty good job.”

I frown. “No, I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was trying to surf!”

He takes a step closer, his arms folded. “I told you to wait for me. We were going to go out there together so I could teach you. But by the looks of those waves? Not a good day for a newbie to surf. They’re too choppy and dangerous.
I
wouldn’t even go out there on a day like this.”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get the memo.”

He frowns. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

He stares at me for a second and shakes his head. “I don’t get you. Your moods are so unpredictable. One second you’ll be smiling and laughing and the next you have some far-off look in your eyes and a frown on your face. Whatever is making you look like that—it’s not worth killing yourself over.”

My temper flares. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I was struggling and trying to get out of the water!”

“You weren’t trying very hard. For being on the swim team in high school, you should have been able to get back to the beach with no problem. I know you’re a stronger swimmer than that.” The look he gives me is pained. “I saw you stop swimming, Oakley. You gave up.”

“I didn’t give up.”

He ignores me. “You’re lucky I came when I did. No one else even saw you.”

“How did
you
see me then?”

“I saw you fall off your board so I knew where you went under.”

I don’t know what to say so I stare at the sand between my toes.

He’s quiet for a moment and then he speaks again. Quiet and controlled. “Tell me you didn’t try to drown yourself.”

“I didn’t.” I look up, surprised at the expression on his face. He looks sad. Which confirms he doesn’t believe me. And then I surprise even myself by adding, “And even if I did, it wouldn’t be so bad? . . . I have nothing to lose.”

“You have everything to lose.”

“No. I don’t. My brother’s already gone. I have nothing.”

He stares at me. Curious. “Your parents.”

“Don’t talk to me about my parents. You don’t know them. Or me.”

He reaches out and runs his fingers across my cheek. “I can help you. Talk to me and let me help.”

“I don’t think anyone can help me right now.” I step away from his touch and turn around.

“Oakley,” he says, his calm voice sends a mixture of emotions rushing through me but I don’t look back as I make my way back to the house, and he doesn’t follow.

So much for being spontaneous. This is
so
like me.

CHAPTER 12

I escape to the only place I can think of: my room. I change out of my stupid wet suit but don’t bother putting my wet hair in a ponytail. I feel gross from the salty water but I’m too exhausted and upset to get in the shower.

Lucas’s notebook is sitting on the bed where I left it earlier. I need to read his words. They’ll comfort me. He always knows what to say. He’ll make this all go away. I sniff, take a deep breath, and read.

DEAR OAKLEY,

IT’S BEEN A HARD DAY. NOT GONNA LIE. I’M USUALLY PRETTY UPBEAT, BUT FOR SOME REASON, TODAY IS A DOWN DAY. YOU KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG WHEN YOU CAME TO VISIT ME EARLIER, BUT YOU KNOW HOW I AM. I PRETEND I’M FINE, EVEN IF YOU KNOW I’M NOT. I CAN’T HELP BUT THINK SOMETIMES, WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? WHY WAS I THE ONE TO GET SICK? I KNOW EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON, BUT IT’S HARD TO THINK OF WHAT THAT REASON IS.

I KNOW I’M GOING TO BE OKAY. I’M NOT AFRAID OF DYING. IN FACT, I’M EXCITED FOR A NEW ADVENTURE. ONE THAT WON’T INVOLVE NEEDLES OR CHEMICALS, PAIN AND WEAKNESS. I’LL BE WHOLE AGAIN. MYSELF. IT’S KIND OF CYNICAL TO WANT TO DIE, BUT I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO DO HERE. BESIDES SUFFER. AND OF COURSE, BEAT YOU AT X-BOX.

THE ONLY THING IN THIS WORLD I’LL MISS IS YOU. MOM AND DAD A LITTLE, BUT MOSTLY YOU. YOU’RE MY BABY SISTER. MY BEST FRIEND. PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND MOVE ON WHEN I’M GONE. DON’T STAY IN THE PAST, BUT DON’T FORGET ME. PROMISE ME YOU WON’T FORGET ME.

LOVE, LUCAS

Tears stream down my cheeks as a familiar image flashes through my mind of Lucas hooked up to all those machines. His thin face smiling all the time, even when he was too sick to speak. He was braver than I’ll ever be. And I miss him so much it hurts.

His words ring inside my mind. He didn’t want to die but was okay with it. I shiver. I could have died today. And no matter what I may think and say, I know I’m not ready to die. Even if Lucas is gone, there’s so much I haven’t experienced yet. So many things I want to do. And how can I even think of throwing away my life when Lucas fought so hard to keep his?

Carson was right. What was I thinking?

A knock on my French doors makes me jump. I’m afraid to open it. I’m sure it’s Carson. Why did he follow me? I wipe my eyes and go to the door. It takes me a minute before I’ve calmed down enough to open it.

Carson stands on my porch holding my surfboard. He doesn’t smile, just searches my face. His eyes are sad and he’s looking at me with such concern that my eyes fill again.

He leans the board against the side of the house and takes a step toward me. I want to run, to hide from his worried gaze, but I can’t move. He reaches forward slowly and pushes a strand of wet hair out of my face before closing the gap. I don’t budge, just close my eyes as he shifts closer.

His arms slide around my body and I surprise myself as I lean my head against his chest. His heart beats faster and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace. He’s warm and strong and I slide my arms around him to hug him back. I haven’t been hugged in so long. Not like this. I squeeze him tighter as I cry, very aware of the fact that I’m soaking the front of his shirt.

I know I need someone to fill the void Lucas left. Someone to let me cry, to talk me through things. Someone to make me feel like I’m somebody and not just a shadow of my former self. Carson is that person. Even if I haven’t known him very long, I feel safe with him. Comfortable. He’s a friend. And that’s enough for now.

I’m not sure how long we stand there but finally I pull away. There’s a huge wet spot on his shirt but he doesn’t seem to care. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry . . . about that,” I say. My voice is hoarse. I feel a little better and a lot worse. My head hurts and my eyes sting. After being dunked in the ocean and having an emotional breakdown, I’m sure I’m a mess.

“No,
I’m
sorry. For yelling at you.” He sighs. “I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t. I deserved it.”

I feel him watching me, so I glance up. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault he’s gone.” I know that’s not what he means but this has been my automatic response when anyone says it.

“What happened?”

I sigh and sit in one of the wicker chairs on the porch. Carson takes the other, never taking his eyes off me. “He was diagnosed with osteosarcoma when he was eighteen.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Bone cancer,” I say. “We thought he had a good diagnosis at first. It was just in his femur. But then they found it other places as well. After a year of chemo, he stopped treatments and they only gave him a few months. He died a few weeks ago.”

He looks at the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“My mom thought it would be a good idea to get away from everything for a while, so we moved here until summer starts.” I let out another shaky breath. “We might be here for a while now though. My parents are getting divorced.”

“I know how that is. It’s not fun.”

“Your parents are divorced?”

He nods. “They divorced when I was ten. My birth mom left us and my dad remarried my ‘mom’ two years later. I was young but I still remember everything about all of it. Every fight my parents had, every emotion I felt the day my mom left. It was harder on me than I’d like to admit. It still is, since I haven’t seen her since. Sometimes the sadness creeps in now and then, but I’m human. You can’t expect to block everything bad out. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate the good otherwise. You know?”

I stare at the ground and nod. He’s right.

“Anyway, we can talk about them later. I want to hear about you.”

“Oh.” I don’t want to talk about just me, but it might make me feel better to talk to someone about it. “Well . . . I’m not surprised about the divorce. Not really. My mom is a control freak and does what she wants when she wants. She’s never been very good at compromising or communicating really. I’d call her personality more cold than anything. She was different before Lucas got sick, but now . . .” I shake my head. “My dad is more laid back but likes things his way too. You can imagine what they were like when Lucas was diagnosed. They both wanted different treatments and opinions from different doctors. It was a nightmare. Lucas finally just told them what he was going to do, and since it was his life, they had to let him decide.”

“You were close to him, weren’t you.” It isn’t a question

“He was my best friend.” Tears fill my eyes again and I blink furiously to push them back. I’ve dealt with enough emotions today. I don’t want to look weak but it’s exactly how I feel. “I know some siblings don’t get along but it wasn’t like that with us. He even left me a notebook full of letters when he died. To make sure I’d be okay. . . . But I’m not.” I wipe at my wet cheeks. “Sorry. I’m usually not like this.”

“It’s okay to let it all out,” Carson says.

“I hate it.” I attempt to dry my eyes and sniff. “My parents made me talk to a counselor at the hospital and she always said the same thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It was sort of like a class. The hospital offers it for free when you have a sibling with cancer. It’s basically to let you know your parents love you still even though they spend so much time with said sibling and blah blah blah. Anyway, my counselor was always surprised I never cried at our sessions. I just hate crying though.” I really need a tissue. My head feels like it might explode if I don’t blow my nose soon.

He reaches over and takes my hand. “Thank you for telling me about Lucas. I wish I could have met him.”

I sniff. “You remind me of him a little. Maybe that’s why I get along with you so well.”

He smiles and gives my hand a squeeze.

I sniff again and take a deep breath. “Do you want to come inside? I really need to blow my nose.” I’m mortified I said it but he doesn’t laugh. He just nods and helps me out of my chair.

Once we’re inside, I all but run to the bathroom. I avoid looking in the mirror at first but sneak a peek after my sinuses are cleared. I look like a monster. My face is pale with blotches of red on my cheeks and around my eyes. I know I’m an ugly crier but this is ridiculous. I splash some cold water on my face, not sure if it will do anything. I’ve just seen it in movies so many times it seems the right thing to do. After I clean up, I go back in my room.

Carson is sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed with my guitar case on his lap. “Will teaching me how to play the guitar cheer you up at all? I’m sure I’ll screw it up enough to make you laugh.”