The Day Before Read online

  “Does she know you’re here?” he asks.

  “Sort of. You?”

  “No one knows where I am right now.”

  He leans in just a little.

  His smile lights me up.

  “Except you.”

  my turn

  “Let’s play four truths and a lie,” I say

  after we give the waitress our order.

  “Okay.

  You go first.”

  I take a deep breath.

  For some unknown reason,

  I want him to know.

  I want it out there

  so I don’t have to work

  at hiding it from him

  all day long.

  I imagine those sharks.

  Strong.

  Confident.

  Not afraid.

  “I’m scared to drive.

  I was switched at birth.

  I collect albums and own an old turntable.

  Someday I’ll be a nuclear physicist.

  Jelly beans are my favorite candy.”

  He doesn’t even

  flinch.

  “You don’t seem like the

  nuclear physicist type.”

  My face must be

  the portrait

  of surprise.

  He smiles.

  Tilts his head.

  “I got it right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.

  Okay,” he says.

  “Let me think on mine for a second.”

  And that’s it.

  No interrogation.

  No sympathy.

  Not even an uncomfortable moment.

  Seriously?

  Two years, three months ago

  Dear Amber,

  Did you have a happy birthday? We hope you enjoyed the flowers we sent you for your special day.

  We visited the cemetery, and put roses on Charlotte’s grave. Purple ones. Oh, how she loved the color purple.

  I remember we bought her a doll for her fourth birthday. She opened it up and started to cry. “What’s wrong?” we asked her. “Her dress is red,” she told us. “I hate red! Her dress should be purple!” After that, I learned how to make doll clothes.

  Charlotte was quite opinionated—a strong-willed child. I suppose some might call it stubborn. Although she challenged our parenting skills at times, it was so much fun watching her grow up. She was never afraid to try the unknown or conquer the unfamiliar. When she got sick, she fought it with everything she had. She fought so hard, we thought for sure she’d win, just like she did with the purple dress.

  Over the years, she grew to have quite the doll collection. I still have them. The other day, I brought some of them out and let Sierra play with them. She was in heaven.

  What about you? Did you play with dolls when you were young? What’s your favorite color? Do you enjoying trying new things?

  Won’t you please write back and tell us?

  Love,

  Jeanie and Allen

  his turn

  “I write songs everywhere I go.

  I love macaroni and cheese.

  My dog’s name is Boo.

  I’m scared of hospitals.

  I love the ocean so much, I would live and die at sea if I

  could.”

  I study him as he

  says each one.

  But I can’t read him,

  and besides,

  I’m only thinking

  one thing—

  Please be a songwriter,

  please be a songwriter,

  please be a songwriter.

  “Your dog’s name isn’t Boo.”

  “It is.”

  “Shit.

  Uh, you don’t love the ocean that much.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  If he’s not a songwriter, I’ll cry!

  “Do you hate macaroni and cheese?” I whisper.

  “Unlike the majority of America, yes.”

  What a relief.

  Then I have to know.

  “Are you writing a song today?

  I mean, do you have words?

  Or an idea?”

  He nods.

  “Like I said, everywhere I go.”

  Underneath the table,

  I pinch my leg,

  to be sure

  I’m not dreaming.

  And what do you know, I’m not.

  As the waitress sets

  our food in front of us,

  I try to figure out

  what the other truths mean.

  I want to ask.

  But I follow his lead,

  letting the questions

  float up and away

  toward the rafters,

  like the steam

  from our bowls of soup.

  no place better

  We eat our lunch

  and talk about school

  and what we’re missing.

  At first

  it’s serious stuff.

  me: A test in Chemistry.

  A self-portrait in Art.

  him: A speech in Language Arts.

  A meeting with his guidance counselor.

  me: Looks of pity in the hallway.

  him: Lack of understanding.

  When he pushes his bowl

  away, I know it’s time

  to push away

  the serious stuff too.

  me: Rubber chicken nuggets.

  him: Pizza drowning in grease.

  me: Stressed-out teachers.

  him: Teachers who don’t give a damn.

  I look out the window and

  imagine the warm sun on my face,

  the sound of the surf in my ears.

  “I’m glad I’m not there.”

  I feel his eyes on me.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” he says.

  I’m no longer

  just thinking warm thoughts.

  I’m feeling them.

  gonna build us some fun

  After lunch

  we stroll through

  a souvenir shop.

  Shells in all

  shapes and sizes.

  Sand dollars,

  whole and perfect,

  not broken,

  how I always find them.

  Taffy in a

  kaleidoscope

  of colors.

  Cade grabs a couple

  of plastic shovels and buckets.

  I go for a bag of

  assorted saltwater taffy.

  A wave of giddiness

  washes over me

  because we’ll

  play on the beach

  with no other thoughts than

  have fun,

  have fun,

  have fun.

  I start to give him money,

  but he takes the taffy

  and pushes away the bills.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “But—”

  “No. Please.”

  He smiles.

  “Let me do this, okay?

  It’s good for my ego.”

  Before I can argue,

  my phone rings.

  It’s Madison.

  I’ve ignored

  all of her texts.

  She’s probably worried,

  so I step away.

  “Hey.”

  “Amber, why aren’t you at school?

  Where are you?”

  “Newport.”

  “What? Why?

  Will you be back soon?”

  “No. Not until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?

  But Amber, you—”

  “Look, I can’t do this now, okay?

  I gotta go. I’m fine. Better than fine.

  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Everything all right?” Cade asks.

  I take a shovel from his hands.

  “Nothing a sand castle won’t cure.”

  from nothing comes greatness

  Bucket


  after bucket

  after bucket

  filled with

  cool,

  damp

  sand.

  Walls

  and towers.

  More walls.

  Some turrets.

  A staircase.

  He builds

  a staircase

  for the castle!

  Windows

  and doors.

  A castle

  truly built

  for a king.

  I may not know

  a lot about this guy,

  but one thing

  I do know?

  He knows his way

  around a sand castle.

  waiting to be rescued

  When Kelly and I

  built a sand castle together,

  we’d dig a moat around it.

  Then we’d sit back,

  waiting for the tide

  to come in.

  Once, we imagined

  we were princesses,

  stuck in the towers,

  waiting for princes

  to rescue us.

  But moats filled with

  crocodiles

  make rescues

  difficult.

  “My prince has a flying horse,” Kelly’d announced.

  And just like that, she’d won. She was free.

  I couldn’t think of a way to be rescued.

  Not one.

  So I, the pissed-off princess,

  kicked the castle walls,

  causing them to come

  crashing down.

  Even then

  I hated impossible

  situations.

  surprise

  Sisterly memories

  cause bittersweet emotions

  to surface.

  Kelly looks nothing like me,

  acts nothing like me,

  is really nothing like me.

  But she’s my sister.

  And that means

  everything.

  I retreat with my bag

  to a large piece of driftwood

  and take a seat.

  I close my eyes

  and breathe in the soothing

  smell of salty ocean air.

  Seagulls cry

  in the distance,

  as if they are lonely

  despite the company

  of a beach full of people.

  I know that cry.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” Cade whispers.

  “And open your mouth.”

  Of course

  I immediately

  open my eyes.

  He sits next to me.

  “Come on.”

  He smiles.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  I want to trust him.

  I close my eyes.

  And I slowly

  open

  my mouth.

  There is sweetness

  with a hint of salt,

  and the distinctive texture

  of taffy.

  “Guess what flavor,” he asks.

  I smile.

  He’s playing my game.

  How did he know my game?

  “Lemon.”

  I open my eyes.

  He’s chewing too.

  “Mine’s lime.”

  Two of my favorites.

  secret revealed

  “Where’d you learn how to do that?” I ask.

  “Guess taffy flavors?” he teases.

  I nudge him with my elbow.

  “No.

  Build a sand castle.”

  “My dad.

  We spend a lot of time at the beach.

  He lives here in Newport.”

  “You live with your mom?”

  He starts digging in the sand,

  and I wonder

  if the questions

  are getting too personal.

  He nods. “My parents are divorced.”

  “Mine too,” I say.

  He pauses.

  Stops digging,

  and our eyes meet.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “What? How?”

  Wait.

  Of course.

  The news.

  It’s been national for a while.

  He goes back to making

  his hole in the sand.

  “Did you know it was me?” I ask.

  “When you first saw me, did you know?”

  He shakes his head.

  “You looked familiar.

  But I couldn’t place you.

  Until lunch.”

  Two little kids

  with their mom

  stop to admire

  our sand castle.

  I’m thankful

  for the momentary

  distraction.

  The kids look

  as if they wish

  they could shrink

  to the size of tiny crabs

  and climb inside.

  I wish I could climb inside.

  Me, the princess,

  and Cade, the prince,

  saving me from Jeanie and Allen,

  the big,

  bad

  dragons.

  “When do you leave?” he asks.

  I barely get the word out.

  “Tomorrow.”

  And then I reach

  for another piece

  of taffy.

  the story

  Four

  unsuspecting parents.

  Two

  newborn baby girls.

  One

  incredibly busy night

  in a small hospital.

  Accidents happen.

  For ten years

  no one is the wiser.

  Until one day

  the unthinkable happens.

  One of the girls, Charlotte,

  comes down with

  leukemia.

  When her parents

  are tested for a

  possible blood transfusion,

  the results are shocking.

  Their blood types don’t match.

  They don’t tell Charlotte.

  The stress would be too much.

  They simply love her

  and make her comfortable

  until the very end,

  which comes faster

  than anyone had predicted.

  Most stories would end there.

  Okay, maybe after the

  sorry-ass hospital is sued

  for millions of dollars.

  But not this story.

  Hell, no.

  Charlotte’s parents,

  Allen and Jeanie, try

  to pull themselves

  out of the nightmare

  they’ve been living

  by searching for

  their biological child.

  They want to find her.

  They want to meet her.

  They want to know her.

  In a surprise decision

  the judge is sympathetic

  to the bereaved couple,

  and she awards

  shared custody.

  Six months with one family.

  Six months with the other.

  I close my eyes and breathe.

  The taffy rolls around on my tongue.

  Strawberry.

  My mom’s favorite.

  My only mom’s favorite.

  One year, six months ago

  Dear Amber,

  I want to share something a reporter asked me recently, and my answer, because it occurred to me that you may be wondering the same thing.

  He asked, “Are you trying to replace one daughter with another?”

  I told the reporter, absolutely not. No one can take Charlotte’s place. She was our daughter, the girl we loved and raised. The girl with the beautiful smile and the sparkly aqua eyes. The girl who loved the stage and dreamed of being an actress. The girl who loved animals and decided to become a vegetarian when she was eight.
She was the light of our life. When we learned we weren’t her biological parents, it didn’t change how much we loved her.

  But ever since we discovered you’re out there, we’ve felt like something is missing. Like a piece of ourselves is missing. I’m sure your parents feel the same way, but unfortunately, they don’t have the chance to get to know their other daughter like we do.

  We weren’t able to have any more children after Charlotte was born, although we wanted to. But now, we have the opportunity to get to know you. The opportunity to love you!

  We know you can’t take Charlotte’s place. No one can. Still, Amber, we are family. For better, for worse, you are connected to us.

  We want you in our life, because family is everything.

  Love,

  Jeanie and Allen

  no choice

  My parents

  didn’t fight it.

  The financial

  and emotional

  stress

  that an appeal

  would bring—

  they couldn’t

  fight it.

  “It’s not that long

  until you’re eighteen,”

  Dad told me.

  “Hang in there

  until then.

  You can choose then.”

  Not now.

  Then.

  My friends

  always want to know

  what I think about it.