Chapter 6 #2
Mom doesn’t hesitate. “Of course, Auggie.”
Later that afternoon, Mom drops off the box.
“It’s just a few things,” she promised. “Your favorite snacks. Things for Max. Some of your old clothes.”
I almost trip over Diana when she weaves between my legs as I carry it to my bedroom. She watches as I sit on the end of my bed to peel open the flaps. Immediately, a laugh bubbles up in my chest.
There are bags of sour candy. The brands I’d demolish as a kid until my mouth was raw and puckered. Underneath that are packs of seedlings. Mom still believes I’ll discover my green thumb. For Max, she’s packed art books.
Next, I find a leather journal. It has a soft, rustic feel. I hold it gently. I know what Mom’s hoping. That I’ll use it to write new songs, find my love for music again.
Frowning, I rest it on the floor.
At the bottom of the box is a stack of neatly folded clothes. Mainly shirts I outgrew when I turned sixteen and my growth spurt hit. The last item is a thick navy hoodie.
Tension latches onto my body. Water fills my vision. Without unfolding it, I know this isn’t my hoodie.
It’s London’s.
No, it was his. Death is awful like that. A constant reminder that everything it touches belongs to the past now.
My thumbs brush over the soft fabric. Like I’ll still find the grainy bits of sand from our trips to Hendry’s Beach there. The times he wrapped it around my shoulders on cool nights walking around downtown.
Absently, I inhale. His scent is gone. Just like him.
When my eyes close, I see him in it. The first time—after he ran up the clock tower to tell me he wanted to go to UC Santa Barbara. Before he gave me a matching sweatshirt. Asked me to come with him.
The times he’d sit at my kitchen table with his laptop. When he’d plan out our lives post–high school with confidence blazing in his green eyes, his weird smile pointed at me. He’d settled on engineering for his major. Journalism for mine.
“You can do music on the side,” he suggested. “Journalism will be better for a degree. For a career.”
I didn’t argue. Part of me thought to, but it didn’t matter. We were going to be together.
Our future was set.
Then one red light turning green took everything from me. My carelessness stole all of London’s dreams from him.
I fall back on the bed. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes. Guilt piles onto the ache in my chest. Thick, weighted, unending. My fingers dig into the hoodie.
London should be here. Starting his first year at UCSB. I should be watching him walk the campus, make new friends, become the man he was supposed to be.
If he was right here, I would—
Stop.
My eyes blink open. I’m being foolish. It doesn’t matter what I would do. I can’t change what happened. London’s not coming back.
Carelessly, I toss the hoodie across my bed. The impact sends something flying into the air. Small delicate white petals. They float back down. Land on my pillow.
I stare at them, my breath catching.
You are welcome to visit anytime.
Milos’s voice runs through my head, as clear as a river.
I sit up so fast, I’m lightheaded. The realization punches me hard: I’ve been to Aides. I’ve met the ferrier, who has guided every soul to the underworld.
Could Cary have met London? Guided him somewhere in Aides that he can take me to?
A dangerous feeling flickers in my stomach: hope.
Maybe I can see London again. Tell him everything.
That I never intended to rip away the future he was meant to have.
That I would take it all back if I could.
I would’ve said no when he convinced me to take his dad’s car for a quick drive.
I would’ve stayed outside his parents’ house and talked and held him instead.
I’d tell him that I didn’t deserve to have this life he wanted so badly because I’m doing nothing with it.
That I still love him. That I was better with him than I’ll ever be without him.
I’d tell him the one thought that follows me in my dreams and nightmares and everywhere in between:
That it should’ve been me that night.
Maybe Cary can give me the time Death ruthlessly stole from us. But first, I need to find the one boy I hoped to never see again.
I don’t know why I think I’ll find Cary in Santa Barbara. People die all over the world. He could be anywhere. Still, I take my chances, assuming that being an immortal Deathless means he travels to collect souls quicker than I imagine. That he’ll eventually come back…here.
Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital.
It wasn’t my first choice to search for him. But creeping around alleys or hospice centers felt too morbid. Just the idea made my skin prickle.
Now that I’m standing outside, I think maybe those weren’t the worst options.
It’s early morning. Rising sunlight glazes the hospital, the largest in the city. As with every other downtown building, the exterior is bone white. Well-kept plants decorate the walkways. Deep blue water dances in a wide-mouthed fountain several feet from the main doors.
I arrived twenty minutes ago, but fear has frozen me. My feet won’t bring me any closer to the entrance. If I want to see London again, tell him how I feel, say goodbye, then I need to move. Or I’ll always be somewhere between Before August and After August. Never whole, never at peace.
I’ll never be anything more than the boy who survived.
The wind is cool against my hot face. It quiets the noise of my heart. Another minute goes by as I steel myself, build courage.
Then I hear: “August?”
I whip around, startled. It’s my dad.
He walks up with a brown paper bag in hand. His scrubs are apricot orange. He loves wearing bright colors for the sick kids he tends to. It makes them happy. For some reason, it does the same for me.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, low.
He tugs me into a hug. I’m taller now. It’s weird no longer being the small boy who fits neatly in his arms.
“What are you doing here?” He steps back, eyes wide with panic. “Are you sick? Is it Max? Your mo—”
I cut him off. “No, no. Everyone’s fine. It’s nothing.” My eyes flick to the hospital’s automatic doors opening and closing. “I wanted to see you.”