Chapter Fifty-Five
Fifty-Five
I THROW THE GEARSHIFT INTO PARK before I actually stop, making the truck lurch forward.
It’s the middle of the night. All the lights are off in Peter’s house.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and scramble up the walkway to his front door, but then I decide to move back around to his window.
The lights are off in his room, but I can still see a faint pink glow coming from inside.
My entire body squeezes in on itself and for a second I think the weight of this might actually kill me.
I might wither into dust and blow away, the tiny, disjointed particles of me scattering themselves in the wind.
But I don’t. I am still here.
There’s a jagged crack down the center of my phone, like a lightning strike, splintering out in a million different directions. But it still works.
SYD_IS_NOT_HERE:Hey
For a minute I’m worried that he’s not going to respond and I’m going to have to resort to throwing clumps of shit at his window again, but then dots appear.
PETERBECKETT1984:Hey there.
SYD_IS_NOT_HERE:Can you come down
SYD_IS_NOT_HERE:Now
PETERBECKETT1984:You’re here???
The light turns on in Peter’s bedroom.
PETERBECKETT1984:I’ll be right down.
I move back to the front door, rocking on my heels, tapping my phone over and over, watching the time.
“Hey.” Peter opens the door. He’s in his glasses again. He looks so … young.
I swallow, keeping my eyes on his. Not looking at the clock.
“I want to go somewhere.”
“Now?” Peter rubs the back of his neck. I reach up and take his hand.
“Yes. Now.”
A question flashes across his face, but whatever it is, he doesn’t ask it. “Okay,” he says. “Just let me grab my wallet and leave my parents a note.” He squeezes my hand once before slipping back into the house.
He comes out a second later, his hair still messy, still wearing his glasses. He shoves his hands in his pockets, bracing himself against the extra chill of the night air. “Where do you want to go?”
“I want to go into the city.”
“Really? I thought you were going to say for a walk or something.”
I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says, “let’s go.”
I take his hand and lead him to the truck. He opens the driver’s-side door for me and I slide in, watching him go back around to the other side and get in.
“Cold out tonight, huh?” he says, rubbing his hands together and turning the heat up.
I nod.
The pink light fills up the truck, making it hard for me to drive, but he’s here. He’s here.
I pull into the train station and park. The next train out isn’t for another hour.
Shit. I didn’t think about that part.
“What should we do now?” I say. The seconds are going too fast.
Peter turns to me, a smile starting at the corner of his mouth. “I can think of something.”
He leans in and I close my eyes. I inhale, wishing I could breathe every last bit of him in. Pull him into myself and preserve this one moment.
There goes an hour.
We get our tickets as the sun is coming up and slide into two seats in the back.
“Do you mind if I read?” Peter asks.
I shake my head. He can do whatever he wants. He pulls out his phone and opens his Kindle app. Today it’s Here and Now and Then by Mike Chen. Time travel stuff. God, if only.
Peter glances up from his phone. “You okay?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I’m staring at him.
“Okay,” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe me, before turning back to his book.
He keeps reading, his eyes on the page, but he reaches over and holds my hand.
And it makes me want to fucking cry. But I keep it together, close my eyes, and hold on to him while the train keeps rolling, while the same question echoes over and over in my mind: Is it better or worse to know?
Fuck Huntington’s and fuck the hot dogs. I’m going to give Peter the best last seventy-two hours anyone’s ever had.
Or—I blink back the tears, closing my eyes and pretending to rest—or what’s left of those seventy-two hours.