Paz
4:13 a.m.
“, wake up.”
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve dreamt everything, like I fell while climbing up the Hollywood Sign and got knocked out, but
I open my eyes to find Alano Rosa behind the driver’s seat and my house outside the window. Everything really happened.
“Sorry,” I say, my eyes still fluttering. “How long was I asleep?”
“Not long. Twenty minutes, but it’s after four. You should go to bed.”
“Okay, yeah.” I take off my seat belt, but I don’t leave. I’m scared of what happens the next time I wake up and Alano isn’t
there. “When do you go back to New York?”
“I think Wednesday morning. We have to be back for our Decade Gala on Thursday.”
Today is Friday—no, it’s after midnight, so Saturday. He leaves in four days. It already doesn’t feel like enough time. But
he’s here now and there’s something I wanna ask, but I’m not sure how I’ll live with myself if he rejects me.
“I wish I could read your mind,” Alano says, leaning against his headrest.
“No, you don’t. It’s really sad and scary up in here.”
“I still want to know what you’re thinking. That hasn’t changed because our deal is done.”
I can’t look him in those eyes when I ask, “Do you wanna hang out later today?”
“I really do,” Alano says, making me so damn happy. “But—”
“It’s all good,” I say, not selling that line at all. I open the car door when he grabs my shoulder.
“But I have to speak with my parents in the afternoon about my decision to deactivate Death-Cast and figure out what that
means for the rest of my life,” Alano finishes. “I’m free in the evening, though. Want to hang out then?”
I’m so embarrassed at how quick I was to judge that I can’t even face him.
“? Please look at me,” he softly says.
I turn to find a grin on his tired face.
“I meant it when I said I’m going to be there for you.”
Knowing I’ll see Alano later makes waking up less scary, but I still can’t reach that same happy high I was on before, it’s
like I’ve been blocked off.
“I have a mental disorder,” I spit out, half hoping Alano won’t be scared away, half sabotaging to scare Alano away. “Borderline
personality disorder. I only found out yesterday afternoon. I get these mood swings and shit like that, but you probably already
know everything about it.”
“I’m actually not all that familiar with borderline personality disorder, but thank you for telling me.”
I start taking deep breaths, hyperventilating, and I’m so pissed at my brain for messing with me. “I’m not trying to pressure you to hang out with me, I know how hard it is. I actually have to live with myself, and yeah, my life sucks.”
Alano is quiet. He’s probably regretting not letting me run out of the car just now or even helping me down the Hollywood
Sign because I’m too much to deal with. But that’s my brain talking for him because Alano actually says, “I would’ve found
myself trying to make today my End Day too if I went through everything you did, but we’re both alive and we’re committed
to living. In fact...” He reaches over my knees and opens the glove compartment, fishing around for a black marker. “Let’s
make this official with a contract.” Alano signs his name on his bandage. He offers me the marker. “We can heal together.
No more trying to live our End Days. Let’s promise to live our Begin Days.”
Very early on in therapy, Raquel mentioned the importance of reframing negative attitudes in our heads. She recommended that
I always find the positive, and if it felt hard, all I had to do was flip how I was feeling. So instead of saying “I wanna
give up on life” I could reframe that as “I wanna live.” That felt like a cheap trick, but I only had to act like I was doing
it one hour every week. Tonight I’m promising to actually commit to life, in and out of therapy, with or without Alano.
My Not-End Days will be my Begin Days.
I take the marker, holding Alano’s bandaged arm as I gently sign my name next to his.
“To beginnings,” Alano says.
“To beginnings,” I say.
I like seeing our signatures together.
“What’s your number?” Alano asks.
“Seven-one-eight-two-four-five...” I stop because he’s just staring at me. “Aren’t you gonna write it down?”
“Phone numbers are easy. I’ll remember,” he says.
I tell him my number, and Alano immediately repeats it back. He takes my phone and types in his number. “Just in case.”
I can’t believe I just exchanged phone numbers with Alano Rosa, or that we’ve created a contract to heal together, or anything
about this night.
“I’m excited to see you later,” Alano says.
“You too.”
This world I’m entering feels new, uncharted. It’s one where I won’t find myself chasing Death and will now outrun him. That’s all thanks to Alano, who has brought me here so I can reach for the stars and stop and smell the roses and other shit like that. But I don’t know how to trust myself in this new world when I’m dragging my old world with me, like my borderline personality disorder that can make me fall hard and fast for someone or just make me think that I am. I’m feeling so much tonight, but I don’t know how to tell what’s real. Like how looking at Alano makes me like breathing. How Alano is so beautiful that I wanna paint his portrait and wear it on a T-shirt. How I wanna reach for Alano-shaped stars and smell Alano-shaped roses. How when I say good night I wanna kiss him like I’m dying. And how much I miss him already when he drives off and how happy I’m gonna be when I see him again.
How do I know if any of that is real?
I don’t know, but I now have time and Begin Days to figure that out.