Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
The next day, I don’t leave my room.
When Mo comes to visit after school, she hovers at my bedroom door like she’s not sure whether she’s allowed in.
“Explain it to me,” I say from where I’m sitting at my desk.
I have finally made it to the twenty-fifth book.
Soon, I will be on twenty-six. More and more books without Dad.
I’ve been working on the yearbook too. I made so many decisions about it in the coma, decisions that haven’t been made in this world yet.
But at least I know what will work. “You knew all along that Jason and Amber were together?”
“No, just a couple of weeks before the accident. I saw something shady on Amber’s phone.”
“God, Mo. I’m so mad at you.” I’m starting to cry again. At this point, I’ve cried so many tears I’m probably dehydrated.
Mo wraps her arms around me. “I’m really sorry. I’m sorry.”
“They just used people,” I say, but Jason’s words about me using him don’t leave me either. I am guilty, in my own way, of the same thing.
Social media is ablaze with talk about the fight, especially the part where I ran Amber over with a truck. Or some other ridiculous rumor that is a clear escalation from I poured orange juice on her.
“Why were you so against Talon?” I ask Mo. “He wasn’t even the problem.”
“He is a nice guy,” she says. “Honestly, I hated him at first, but then I realized she didn’t deserve him.”
Mo sits on my bed.
“Don’t ever lie to me again,” I say, but as I do, I realize that I’m a big freaking hypocrite. I’m still keeping so many secrets.
So I tell Mo. Every single one.
In the coma world, I had Marcus to confide in, to share the most important things with. In the real world, it’s Mo for me. And, hopefully, me for her.
Mo stays for a couple of hours, and we talk nonstop until she leaves.
I spend the hours after doing research on the best ways to spend a gap year. Traveling, volunteering, working, eating tours, band-chasing tours, bookstore-hopping, film festivals. I feel overwhelmed with the possibilities.
That night, when I sleep, I find myself in a world I recognize.
It’s Corner Books, except it’s brighter than the real store. Wallpapered with bluish flowers. As I’m looking through the shelves, the door opens and in walks Marcus Riddick. My heart trills at the sight of him.
Him, him, him.
“You’re here,” I say.
“You’re here,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Really?” I say.
“You seem sad,” Marcus says, linking his fingers with mine.
My breath grows shallow at his touch.
I’m silent a moment and then I say, “You forgot me. In the real world, you’ve forgotten this.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry, Zadie Cartwright. I don’t know what happened.”
I look down at the ground, then try to sound optimistic. “Well, at least we’ll always have this. I’ll always see you in my dreams.”
“And you in mine,” he says, but as I stand there, he starts to fade, getting more see-through. The walls of the bookstore begin to disappear.
I give a heavy sigh.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says, kissing me even as the world around us keeps melting away.
And then I’m waking up to the sound of someone’s voice coming from outside.
“Zadie!”
I panic at first, because I don’t know anyone who would stand under my window and yell for me. At least, I don’t think I do.
“Cartwright!” the voice shouts again. I think I hear a negligible attempt to whisper-yell, but it’s not very successful. Finally, I open my window, and Marcus is standing on the grass.
“Come down,” he says, and he’s speaking too loudly, too excitedly.
“Shhh!” I hurry out of my room then let him in. “Are you drunk?”
“I remember. Everything we did and said,” Marcus blurts out, as soon as I open the door. “Zadie, I remember us.”
I shake my head, clear my eyes, because it’s too good to be true.
I keep talking like he didn’t just drop something huge on me. “You’re lucky my mom is catching up on, like, four years of sleep. She’d kill you if she wasn’t passed out in her room,” I tell him as quietly as I can. “Come upstairs.”
When we get into my room, he repeats it. “I remember us.”
“Don’t say that if it’s not true.”
“It is,” he insists, “and I remember the last dream. We were arguing about whether I care or not, about why you started dating Jason.”
He stands closer, takes my face in his hands. “Of course I care,” he says.
I struggle to inhale. “Be honest. Am I the girl?”
A frown crosses Marcus’s face. “What girl?”
“The one from before, the one you’ve been trying to get over.” I pull his hands down, keeping mine in them. “Because if not, it’s okay if you want to try with her and…”
Marcus laughs. “Cartwright, please can I just kiss you?” he asks. “Yes, you’re the girl. I fell for you that very first night that we met. And a whole year later, you’re just starting to give me the time of day.”
I feel so happy, I could float away. “I didn’t want to make it too easy for you,” I tease.
He snorts. “Trust me. I know.”
I stand on my tiptoes and close in on his lips, but instead of kissing me, he leans away slightly and picks up the poppy on my dresser.
“Hey, it’s Hanover’s seal.”
I’m pretty sure Marcus is speaking gibberish. “Sorry?”
“From your dad’s book,” Marcus says. “The character’s signature is a blue poppy. He signs every letter with it.”
I take a step back. “My dad’s book?” I repeat. I run to my shelf for a copy of Moon Over Hanover and leaf through it until I come upon the first mention of the blue poppy. I flip a few more pages. Another mention and another.
The one and only time I read Dad’s book, I was eleven, so I have absolutely no recollection of blue flowers.
“The dreams,” I say all of a sudden. And then I’m crying. “Blue flowers. I think they were from my dad. That’s what he left me.”
I explain it to Marcus, who still has no memory of seeing any poppies. Still, I know like I know my own voice that the dreams were a gift from my dad. Every dream in which I found Marcus, every dream in which we found ourselves.
It is a reminder that I still have him, through all the things I will ever love.
Marcus wipes my tears with his thumb, and then he leans down and kisses me.
I…did not know Marcus could kiss like this. Slow and gentle, careful like a secret. I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him in closer, wishing I could do this forever. When we pull apart, it’s so we can both catch our breaths.
“What do we do on Monday?” Marcus asks hoarsely.
“Monday?” I ask.
“I’m surprised you haven’t thought this through already. Amber’s going to be there with Jason, and you and me are…unless you don’t want a…” His voice fades, and I can see him rethinking everything, wondering if he got too far ahead of himself. “Shit, maybe you…”
“I do want a you and me.” I take a deep breath. “And people might stare and talk. In fact, they will.”
She traded one cousin for the other. Talk about a downgrade. She’s such a slut.
I hear everything they could possibly say, and more.
“But I don’t care,” I say. “This is what I want.”
Marcus grins, eyes twinkling. “You sure, Zadie Cartwright?”
“I’m positive.”
“Okay, then,” he says. “You and me.”
“You and me,” I repeat, grinning.
“You know something we haven’t done?” Marcus asks.
As he appears to be looking at my bed, my cheeks are immediately on fire.
He looks up, smirks. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Cartwright. I was just thinking, we never tried summoning a co-dream in the most obvious way, by falling asleep together.”
He yawns. “And quite frankly, I’m exhausted. May I?”
He’s already taking off his shoes, stretching out on top of my comforter.
“Sure, Marcus. Make yourself at home.” I feign an eye roll.
I climb onto the bed so we’re both on our sides, facing each other.
Now I have to yawn too.
“That’s how I remembered, you know,” Marcus says now. “I dreamt about you.”
My smile is too big to be contained. Is this real life, or am I dreaming yet again? “Maybe I dreamt about you.”
“I don’t think it matters,” Marcus says. “You know how dreams work, right?”
I pretend to sigh. “No, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”
“If two people share the same dream, then it’s meant to be.”
“It’s meant to be?”
“They’re meant to be,” Marcus says, planting a kiss on the tip of my nose.
I can always tell when I’m falling into a dream.
Everything starts to blur, and some things start to move at double speed.
But sometimes, real life can feel that way too.
A dizzy, blurry mess. The only way to know for sure is—well, there is no way to know for sure.
You just have to live it, and sometimes you get to the end and you wake up, and it’s all a dream.
I weave my fingers through his as I shift closer to him.
“Doesn’t sound like a thing.”
“Well, wait till I tell you a story,” Marcus says.
Sometimes, though, you wake up, and it’s all real.