I Heart You, You Haunt Me Read online

  Nick

  had the answer.

  Maybe

  I just

  decide.

  May be

  right now,

  in this moment,

  I decide

  that it’s sad

  and tragic

  and painful,

  but feeling bad

  and blaming myself

  won’t

  bring

  him back.

  And maybe

  there is one more thing

  I can do.

  Letting Go

  I sit down at the computer.

  I open Word and start typing.

  The words come freely,

  easily, as if

  my hands

  have been waiting for the opportunity

  to speak.

  Dear Mom and Dad:

  You know those nights, when you look up, and it’s so clear

  you feel like you can see every single star in the universe?

  And there’s always one star that shines the brightest. The star

  we focus on when we say, “Star light, star bright...”

  Jackson was that star in my world. He made my world brighter.

  I miss him so much.

  When I look out at the stars now, I wish with everything I have

  that Jackson was still here. Every day, I’ve wished.

  But today, I’m wondering something. What is Jackson’s wish for me?

  I think his wish for me is this:

  Joy, not sorrow.

  Laughter, not tears.

  Life, not death.

  Love, not blame.

  I want to make his wishes come true.

  Thank you for being the best parents a girl could ever have.

  Love,

  Ava

  I could leave it on the counter,

  but something tells me

  to make it official.

  So I seal it in an envelope,

  address it,

  and find a stamp in the desk.

  And then I walk outside

  into the warm and inviting sunshine

  and mail my letter.

  I See You

  I turn to head inside

  and I see him.

  I stop.

  My feet won’t move.

  He is floating behind

  the window.

  He looks different

  than before.

  More at peace.

  Not so sad.

  More like

  the Jackson

  I used to know.

  That’s my girl.

  Live a good life, Ava.

  And then,

  he disappears

  and I’m left looking at

  my own reflection

  in the glass.

  I look

  more at peace.

  Not so sad.

  More like

  the me

  I used to know.

  Good—bye Forever

  When I come back inside,

  the music has stopped.

  The house

  is peacefully

  quiet.

  I sit down

  and the tears fall

  softly this time.

  I don’t have to go looking,

  searching the house,

  standing by mirrors,

  waiting.

  My heart knows.

  He’s gone.

  He loved me enough

  to let me go.

  Now I have to do

  my part.

  No guilt.

  No regrets.

  No shame.

  I must

  start living

  again.

  Good-bye, Jackson.

  I will LOVE you 4ever.

  Wake—up Call

  I think I cry

  myself to sleep.

  I wake up

  to the sound of the doorbell

  ringing

  over

  and over

  again.

  I barely make it to the door.

  It feels like I’ve taken

  twenty pills

  and can’t wake up.

  As I open the door,

  I remember.

  Lyric.

  “You were sleeping,” he says.

  I smile. “Yeah.”

  I invite him in,

  rubbing my eyes,

  thinking how terrible

  I must look.

  “So, you still want to go?” he asks.

  “Can you wait right here?

  I’ll be back.”

  He smiles and nods.

  And then I run upstairs

  to the bathroom

  because my breath

  has got to be

  atrocious.

  Matchmaker

  I brush my teeth,

  brush my hair,

  brush a little blush on my cheeks,

  and call it good.

  It doesn’t really matter.

  I know that.

  But it gives me the confidence

  to do

  what I realize

  I have to do.

  I go back down

  and he has the remote in his hand,

  flipping through

  the channels.

  I sit down.

  He turns it off.

  I smile.

  He smiles.

  “I’m guessing, by the look on your face,

  you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

  This is one

  insightful

  dude.

  “Lyric, you are such a great guy.

  And you know, you and Cali would make a fantastic couple.

  She loves tacos and dogs and football, just like you.

  I want you to call her. Get to know her.”

  “But—,” he starts.

  “No.

  Please.

  Don’t.

  “My heart has lots of stuff it has to work through.

  Throwing you into the mix, it just wouldn’t be fair.

  For me or for you.”

  He reaches over

  and hugs me.

  “Still friends, right?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Yeah. Still friends.”

  I walk him outside,

  and as he gets in his jeep,

  I don’t tell him

  good-bye.

  I yell out,

  “Call Cali!”

  I’m Definitely a Dog Person

  Guilt reminds me

  of a stray

  cat.

  You chase it away

  and yet,

  it comes back

  when you least

  expect it.

  If you let yourself

  feel pity for it and

  feed the thing,

  it parks its ugly,

  puny,

  lonely-for-attention

  butt

  on your doormat

  and

  won’t

  go

  away.

  Mom and Dad

  watch me

  write notes

  to myself

  and stick them

  around the house.

  Joy, Not Sorrow

  Laughter, Not Tears

  Life, Not Death

  They smile at me.

  They got the letter.

  They understand.

  Scat,

  kitty cat,

  scat.

  I don’t need you

  sitting around here

  like that.

  The Perfect Gift

  On my birthday,

  my girlfriends

  take me out

  to a Mexican restaurant,

  where we sip on virgin margaritas

  while the waiters put a sombrero

  on my head

  and sing to me.

  It’s definitely

  a sweet birthday<
br />
  and I’m so blown away

  by my friends

  being there

  and loving me

  through everything.

  Maybe Mom did ask them

  to check in on me.

  But maybe they would have anyway.

  Maybe they weren’t sure

  what to say to me

  or how to help me.

  They tried,

  and I love them

  for that.

  As I look at my gifts,

  the bracelet Cali made for me,

  the new books Zoe bought for me,

  the framed drawing Jessa made for me,

  I feel thankful

  for the best gift of all.

  It’s the one wrapped around my heart

  with a big, pink bow—

  the never-ending gift

  of friendship.

  Another Good Friend

  I return,

  accompanied only by

  my new driver’s license,

  for a visit

  before summer

  takes its final bow

  and autumn

  hits the stage.

  The water glistens

  as the rays

  of the late afternoon sun

  shine down

  upon it.

  It’s more inviting

  than a down comforter bed

  on a cold, winter night.

  I’ve stayed away

  from my old friend

  far too long.

  I didn’t visit at Zoe’s party.

  I didn’t visit at the beach.

  I didn’t visit the last time I was here.

  I’ve missed you, friend.

  I don’t blame you.

  I never did.

  May be I was scared.

  May be it needed to mean something.

  May be it just didn’t feel right.

  I tear off my tank top and shorts,

  but before I jump in,

  I look up.

  I swear he is there,

  his arms outstretched,

  the waterfall beneath him,

  cascading into the

  cool

  blue

  water

  below.

  Go on, Ava. It’s going to be great!

  It’s not a dare.

  Not this time.

  But it’s almost like I’m on that high dive again,

  scared of what comes next,

  yet knowing at the same time

  it will all be

  okay.

  The water’s cold,

  but I can feel

  Jackson’s smile

  shining down on me,

  as bright and warm

  as the summer sunshine,

  when he sees me wearing

  the black-and-pink

  bikini.

  Ava

  “Tell me about yourself,” Dr. Andrews asked me,

  during our first session.

  I thought Dr. Andrews

  would be a lady

  with ugly glasses

  and hair in a bun

  and a clipboard

  where she scribbled things

  like

  LUNATIC

  CRAZY GIRL

  GUILTY AS HELL.

  Instead

  she is pretty,

  with curly red hair,

  and there isn’t any

  clipboard.

  When I visit her,

  I sit in a comfy brown chair

  and we talk.

  I’ve realized therapy

  is incredibly

  therapeutic.

  When she asked me

  to talk about myself,

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You mean things I like?”

  “I’d love to know what’s special about Ava.”

  I thought,

  I could tell her how I’ve always loved to swim,

  how I love music, movies, and shopping,

  how I loved having a boyfriend

  who clicked with me

  from the very first second,

  and how my friends

  mean everything to me.

  Then I thought,

  too bad I’m not as much fun as Cali

  or as determined as Zoe

  or as brave and confident as Jessa.

  They’re each so special.

  “I don’t know,” I told her.

  “There’s nothing special, really.”

  “Was it special being Jackson’s girlfriend?” she asked.

  “Very.”

  She leaned forward in her chair,

  like a flower in a vase,

  reaching for a glimpse

  of the sun.

  “There are other things special about Ava Bender.

  You just need to discover those things again.

  Will you make a list?

  And then you can share them with me when you’re ready.”

  Now, as I drive along

  the curvy roads

  heading home from

  Jackson’s Hideaway,

  I remember the list

  I have so far.

  I am warm-hearted.

  I am affectionate.

  I am reliable.

  I am generous.

  I am smart.

  I am strong.

  Today,

  I add another one.

  I am hopeful.

  And don’t miss the companion novel to

  I Heart You, You Haunt Me:

  Chasing Brooklyn

  Mon., Jan. 2nd—Brooklyn

  Gabe was one of those guys

  who was full of life.

  Always talking.

  Always laughing.

  Always wanting to be the center of attention.

  Big guy

  with a bigger smile

  and the biggest heart.

  After Lucca died,

  it changed Gabe.

  Of course it would.

  He went from front and center

  to just fading into the background.

  We hung out for a while

  after it happened.

  Didn’t talk much.

  Mostly we sat in his room,

  me writing letters,

  him strumming on his guitar.

  Still, we promised

  we’d help each other through it.

  But then, something changed.

  I don’t know what.

  Was it him? Was it me?

  He joined a different band.

  Stopped coming around.

  I just lost track.

  We lost track.

  I try to remember

  the last time I saw Gabe

  and I can’t.

  He didn’t just fade

  into the background.

  He pretty much

  disappeared.

  #278

  Dear Lucca,

  Can you believe this? I can’t.

  I can’t believe he’s gone.

  Remember that one time the three of us went to see Kings

  of Leon? Gabe sang every song. He knew every single song.

  I seriously feel sick Gonna go lie down.

  Love always,

  Brooklyn

  Mon., Jan. 2nd—Nico

  Gabe and my brother

  had been friends

  since fourth grade.

  They’d grown apart in high school

  when Gabe chose music

  and Lucca chose art.

  Still, they had that connection,

  the kind that stays strong

  despite the differences.

  No matter how long it’d been

  since they’d seen each other,

  they’d pick up right where they left off.

  Gabe made Lucca laugh like no other.

  Gabe with his wild hair that stuck every which way,

  his pierced lip

  and the
black leather jacket

  he wore everywhere.

  He was a character.

  A character who should still be here.

  Damn it all to hell.

  He should still be here.

  Tues., Jan. 10th—Brooklyn

  I fall asleep hoping to dream

  of Lucca.

  Instead I’m standing in the hallway at school.

  In the dark,

  Alone.

  I turn around

  and around,

  wondering where everyone is.

  I want to turn on the lights,

  but where do you find the lights

  for a school hallway?

  There’s the faint sound of footsteps.

  Someone is far away.

  But coming closer.

  I listen.

  They get louder.

  I open my mouth.

  I try to speak.

  Nothing comes out.

  I walk forward,

  my arms in front of me,

  trying to see my way.

  There’s a faint light ahead.

  I think it’s the light to the office.

  If! can just make it there,

  it’ll be okay.

  The steps are coming faster.

  My pace increases.

  Just get to the office.

  Nothing can hurt you there.

  They’ll help you.

  The light gets brighter.

  I start to run.

  Faster and faster

  I run,

  the beating of my heart

  almost as loud

  as the pounding of my steps.

  I reach the door and look behind me,

  I see someone.

  Someone’s coming.

  Right behind me.

  I turn the doorknob.

  Locked tight.

  My fist pounds on the window.

  I pound and pound

  and open my mouth to scream.

  Then, he’s there.

  In front of me.

  Gray skin with eyes

  black as the darkest night,

  and lips blood red.

  He lunges for me

  and I scream his name.

  “Gabe!”

  When I wake up

  with my sheets soaked

  and sticking to me like bandages,

  I can’t stop shaking.

  Even though I know it was a dream,

  something about it

  was so much more

  than a dream.

  A lot more.

  Wed., Jan. 11th—Nico

  Something happened last night

  and I am freaking out.

  It was almost morning. I was asleep.

  I heard a noise.

  A scraping noise.

  I sat straight up and noticed the window was open, just slightly.

  The room was freezing.

  I ran to the window and closed it.

  I was about to turn on the light, when I felt something.

  Like someone was tight there.

  I lunged for the baseball bat under my bed and started swinging.

  I made my way to the light and turned it on.

  No one was there.

  Nothing was there.