The Day Before Read online

  I don’t own a pair.

  Short-and-stocky jeans

  are more my style.

  So, he’s skinny.

  But not gross skinny.

  Good skinny.

  Cute skinny.

  His warm voice

  tiptoes into the

  quiet room.

  “Did you see that movie?” he asks.

  I did.

  Without asking,

  I know he’s talking

  about Seven Pounds.

  My mom is crazy

  for Will Smith.

  She dragged me along

  like a box of Junior Mints

  as soon as it hit

  the theaters.

  I was haunted

  for days.

  “Yes,” I tell him.

  “A crazy way to die.”

  He’s standing right next to me.

  We both watch

  the glowing jellies,

  perhaps imagining

  reaching in and touching them,

  threads of fire

  burning our skin.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  “They look so delicate. Pretty.

  Prettier than a gun.

  Or a rope.”

  I look at him.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you

  looks aren’t everything?”

  like

  “Cade,” he says, sticking out his hand.

  “Amber,” I say, accepting his offer.

  The warmth is a shock.

  A tremor scurries

  down my spine.

  “You from around here?” he asks.

  “Salem.”

  He nods.

  “You?” I ask.

  “Portland.”

  He smiles.

  “So. You like jellyfish?”

  I bite my lip

  to keep from laughing.

  Is he going to order me one

  like a cheeseburger?

  “I love them.”

  “Me too.”

  What is he,

  a great white

  circling his prey?

  I don’t think I care.

  something special

  Cade motions

  with a nod

  to follow him.

  He’s holding the pole,

  and I’m the

  fish on the line.

  Just how far

  will he pull me

  in?

  Around the corner

  only a few kids

  are at the

  tidal pool touch tank.

  My heart’s racing,

  but not from what’s

  in the tank.

  With names like

  pencil sea urchin,

  scarlet hermit crab,

  and chocolate chip sea star,

  the creatures

  all sound friendly.

  I reach into the cold water.

  The back of a starfish

  feels like wet sandpaper

  against my fingertips.

  Cade pets it too, his

  fingers almost

  touching

  mine.

  “When I was little,” he says,

  “I wanted to take them home.

  Turn my bathtub into a touch pool.”

  It makes me smile because

  I was the same way.

  Sea stars

  are

  m*a*g*i*c*a*l.

  We wish on stars,

  millions of miles away, and

  yet here we can touch them.

  I’ve never wished

  on a sea star before,

  but I want to try it.

  I hold my breath and make a wish.

  As he gives the

  starfish a final pet,

  his fingers graze mine.

  Just barely.

  But they do.

  And the way I feel

  when it happens,

  I know I made

  the right wish.

  Please don’t let me go quite yet.

  ah, to be a snail

  Next to me,

  a girl tugs on my jacket.

  Her eyes round as sand dollars,

  she asks me, “Why is that shell moving?”

  She points to the water where

  a shell appears to slide across the tank

  by an invisible force.

  “That’s a hermit crab.

  There’s a crab underneath the shell.

  He carries it with him wherever he goes.”

  She smiles with relief.

  “A shell for a home? Lucky!”

  I think about that.

  A shell,

  all his own,

  no one arguing,

  you belong here

  or there, with us

  or with them.

  Yeah.

  I’d have to agree.

  Pretty damn lucky.

  secrets

  “No school today?” the volunteer asks

  from the other side of the display.

  I jump.

  I want to tell her

  school is the least

  of my worries.

  But I don’t respond.

  And neither does Cade.

  Sometimes you just don’t want

  to explain yourself.

  She’s curious

  the way a nosy neighbor

  is curious,

  bringing cookies over,

  asking questions,

  trying to get the dirt.

  Well, I’m not sharing.

  And apparently

  Cade isn’t either.

  He turns

  and walks

  away.

  I follow,

  my resolve

  to spend the day alone

  softer than I originally

  thought.

  a keen observation

  Outside

  we watch

  as sea otters

  swim and play

  in their small

  aquarium world.

  One otter

  paddles around

  on his back,

  spinning a blue ball

  on his tummy.

  I could watch them

  for hours.

  Because they get it.

  They get that

  life is short and

  you should just

  forget the crap

  and have fun.

  Another otter

  comes to play

  and the ball

  is batted away.

  Around and around

  they twirl through

  the water together,

  like little boys wrestling.

  “That’s the way to live, huh?” Cade says.

  I guess he gets it too.

  Two years, six months ago

  Dear Amber,

  What a week it’s been. I took two new babies into my day care this week—twins! Their names are Benjamin and Bryce. I’ve never cared for twins before. It’s a bit of a challenge. But they are beautiful, and they smile often. If you’ve ever held a smiling baby, you know there’s nothing quite like it. You are still the most important part of their world. Once they start rolling over, crawling, walking, their world expands, and suddenly, you just aren’t as important. It’s how it should be, of course. But it always makes me a little sad.

  Over the past few months, most of my families have left me. I was sad to see the children I care for so much leave. But I’m trying to be understanding and supportive—they have to do what’s best for them and their families. I’m thankful to have the twins here now. And Sierra, a two-year-old. She’s my sunshine.

  I know not everyone will agree with what we are doing. I also understand that people don’t want to get caught up in the drama. I’ve asked the media to respect our privacy, but they obviously don’t care.

  I suppose the one good thing was that we were finally able
to see a picture of you on the news. Did you notice how much you look like Allen?

  You are beautiful.

  Love,

  Jeanie and Allen

  shocking

  Next we head to the exhibit

  I most want to see.

  Passages of the Deep.

  Sharks and stingrays swim

  above us,

  below us,

  all around us.

  We walk through

  the tunnel of glass

  slowly,

  as if we’re afraid

  of falling in.

  “Can you feel it?” Cade asks me.

  “Feel what?”

  “The power.

  The confidence.

  They’re so damn confident.”

  I nod.

  I do feel it.

  But I want to tell him,

  I feel something else too.

  Electricity.

  And it’s not from

  the eels.

  never before

  Guys always look at me

  and see the cool girl

  who plays drums,

  and they think,

  friend.

  Right now,

  I want to know

  what this guy thinks.

  I want to know

  what this guy feels.

  I want to know

  this guy.

  trapped

  He stops.

  Touches the glass.

  Looks up

  at a leopard shark

  swimming

  over and back,

  over and back,

  over and back.

  “Look at him,” he says.

  “He owns that water.

  Nothing bothers him.

  Nothing.

  He’s free to swim and do

  whatever the hell he wants.

  Man. I want to be like that.”

  “Cade?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He’s trapped in a tank.”

  The shark swims

  right past us.

  If it weren’t

  for the glass, we’d be

  fingers to fins.

  “Oh, God,” he whispers.

  “Let him go.”

  radio for help

  Why do I get the feeling

  this boy is

  lost at sea?

  Just like me?

  what a feeling

  We stay with the sharks

  for a long time,

  maybe hoping

  they will fill us up

  with all the power

  and confidence they possess.

  Or maybe it’s more than that.

  People pass through,

  lavishing the creatures

  with praise and admiration.

  And yet,

  as much as visitors

  appreciate them,

  maybe even love them,

  there are boundaries

  and they’re respected—

  no questions asked.

  So here,

  in the passages of the deep,

  among the deadliest creatures,

  for just a moment, one

  incredible,

  miraculous

  moment,

  I feel

  safe.

  hold on

  When we’re

  alone for a few minutes,

  we stand side by side,

  watching a bat ray skim

  against the glass like a flying carpet.

  It fascinates me.

  Then something

  even more fascinating.

  “I’m hungry,” Cade says.

  “Wanna grab some lunch?”

  I look at him.

  Really look,

  as his eyes stay fixed

  on mine.

  His eyes are deep brown.

  Deep like a good conversation.

  Deep like a hole.

  Deep, of course, like

  the ocean.

  I fall in.

  I say yes.

  ninety-nine degrees

  I count

  in my mind

  the number of words

  I’ve said

  to this guy.

  Twenty?

  Twenty-five?

  Either way, not many.

  And even now

  as we walk, the only sound

  either of us makes

  is the sound of our shoes

  hitting asphalt.

  We step

  in rhythm,

  and in my mind

  I come in with

  a drum fill that makes

  the crowd go wild.

  He looks at me.

  Smiles.

  I smile back.

  And still, no words.

  One time Mom told me the people

  you can be quiet with

  are the ones

  you are the most

  comfortable with.

  Then why am I sweating

  like a lobster headed for

  a boiling pot?

  spread the luck

  Cade reaches to the ground,

  picks up a penny,

  puts it in his pocket.

  “Short on cash?” I tease.

  “Short on luck,” he quips back.

  Maybe he’ll share with me.

  well … we both watch movies

  He drives

  a classic, pale yellow

  VW Beetle.

  It’s as cool as he is.

  Now it’s my turn.

  “Did you see that movie?”

  He looks at me

  over the top of the car.

  I hold my eyes steady,

  not wanting to give it away.

  It’s old.

  One of Mom’s favorites.

  I didn’t really get the appeal.

  But I liked the guy’s car.

  A car just like this car.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “What a crazy town.

  I mean, seriously?

  No music?”

  Oh my God.

  He knew.

  Footloose.

  He knew the one.

  I’m impressed.

  And I’m not impressed easily.

  Sometimes, not at all.

  But today?

  Definitely impressed.

  off-limits

  Sitting in his car,

  I wonder if he

  can hear my heart

  beating loud and hard,

  the way I like

  my music.

  When he turns the key,

  Fall Out Boy plays

  loud and hard,

  the way Cade likes

  his music.

  He reaches for the volume.

  His hand is shaking.

  Just a little bit.

  But I see it.

  And I know

  I’m not the only one

  feeling like we’re on the edge

  of a cliff,

  about to jump.

  His brown eyes stare into mine.

  “One condition,” he says.

  “For today.”

  “Okay.”

  “We don’t ask each other

  what we’re both doing here.

  At the beach, by ourselves.

  I won’t ask you.

  You don’t ask me.”

  I nod. “Great.”

  “Great,” he says as he puts the car

  in reverse.

  Even though I’m dying to know.

  observant

  “What do you like?” he asks.

  “I mean, in music.”

  “Anything and everything.

  Almost, anyway.

  The White Stripes are my favorite.

  Meg White is pretty much my hero.

  But I also love P!nk.

  I mean, music that touches my soul?

  P!nk all the way.
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  And, she’s so damn cool.”

  “You and her,

  you have something in common.”

  “Tough on the outside,

  tender on the inside?”

  “Well, maybe,” he says,

  “but I wouldn’t really know.”

  I feel my cheeks get warm,

  like when I’m playing with

  the band and I miss a beat.

  “You both have a color for a name.”

  Right.

  That.

  special

  On the Oregon coast,

  Mo’s is the place

  for bowls of clam chowder

  with paprika sprinkled on top,

  and warm bread

  with a flaky, golden crust.

  Picnic benches line

  the wall of windows

  overlooking the bay.

  We’re seated in the corner.

  He takes his hat off and

  scratches his head.

  Even with his hair

  sticking out every which way,

  he’s cute.

  He tries to pat it down,

  grinning sheepishly at me.

  “It’s fine,” I say.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I like the red,” he says.

  “In yours.”

  “Thanks. My mom isn’t a fan.”

  He reaches for his glass of water.

  “Mothers can be a pain in the ass.”

  I shrug.

  “Mine’s all right.

  Most of the time.”