“Wow, she must be some girl.”
“She is.”
And she still is. Deep down I think she’s the reason why I haven’t asked Dessie to marry me yet because I’m holding out hope that Peyton is going to tell me someday that she wants to be with me.
But looking at her now, I don’t know if we’ll ever get the chance. My heart breaks thinking that we’ve wasted two years when we could’ve been together. The night of her prom, the night everything really changed for us, is when I should’ve asked her to be mine, but she was so excited about college and finally being away from everything in Beaumont that I couldn’t bring myself to put the pressure of a long distance relationship on her. And now it may be too late.
7
Peyton
I’m in front of Noah, trying to push my sister away. She’s consoling him when it should be me. It’s always been me that he’s come to when he’s felt like the world was crashing around him. It was my window that he snuck into at night when he had a major test in the morning and couldn’t fall asleep. Not Elle’s. Not even Dessie’s. He used to tell me about their relationship. He used to confide in me until they became serious. Most of the time I’ve wanted to scream at him, to tell him that I don’t care, and that I hate her, but I don’t. I listened. I pretended I care about her when I don’t.
I glance back at the bed where my body lies. My mom’s head is rested on my shoulder. She strokes my hair, careful to stay away from the wound on the other side. Aunt Josie now holds my mom and they both cry, but my sister, she’s still here, stuck to Noah’s side. It makes me wonder if she will become his confidant when I’m no longer here.
Noah finally sits down but hangs onto the edge of my bed. His knuckles turn white and his jaw clenches. He’s angry. I know this look from anywhere. I’ve seen him lash out at people before, especially when he thinks they’ve wronged me. I have no doubt if he finds out about Kyle, he’ll… well I don’t know what he’ll do. I’m not sure if I want him to know about Kyle, It’s stupid really because he has Dessie. It’s only fair that I have someone. Even if the one I want doesn’t want me.
Noah hasn’t stopped looking at me. I hate it. This isn’t how he’s supposed to see me. He’s supposed to see me smiling, laughing and running to embrace him because we haven’t seen each other in such a long time. I’m trying to hold his face, but his tears make my hands slip away. Noah doesn’t like to cry, not when people are around him. He’s only done it once and that was when he was hit so badly during a game that his leg buckled and everyone thought he tore his ACL. He didn’t. He was lucky according to the doctor.
He closes his eyes and mutters something unintelligible. “Please say it again?” I beg, but he doesn’t hear me. Honestly, I’m getting rather pissed that no one can hear me. Am I dead, because if I am, shouldn’t I be able to throw things around to get attention? That’s what Patrick Swayze did in Ghost. And where’s my father or his mother? I would like to think at least my father would be here, watching everything transpire. Isn’t he always supposed to be watching over Elle and I? That’s what everyone told us at his funeral. I may have been five, but I remember that day and those surrounding his death very clearly.
Death is nothing like they show you in the movies, aside from your family sitting by your bedside, crying and praying, which I don’t get because my family has never been religious. We’ve been to church, but mostly for special occasions. But where’s the bright light directing me to where I need to go? Where’s my father? Shouldn’t he be here to guide me, hold my hand while I crossover?
“Noah, you need to tell her. We think she’s waiting for you.” I hear my sister mutter into Noah’s ear.
“Don’t listen to her, Noah,” I plead. “Tell me to hang on. Tell me to fight.”
But he says nothing. He leans forward, and his tall frame causes his knees to crash into the metal bars at the end of my bed. His hand touches my foot. I can see it, but I can’t feel him. “May I have a minute with her?” he asks.
Everyone looks at him with sad, blood-shot eyes. Elle is the first one to leave, followed by Josie. When my mom staggers away, Noah stands and pulls her into his arms. He’s like his father in a lot of ways, but he’s also different from the stories I’ve heard over the years about Liam. My uncle hasn’t been shy about his actions when he was eighteen, telling all of us about the mistakes that nearly cost him everything. I asked him once if he regretted anything and he said no. I thought he would say yes because he missed so much, but he said that he wouldn’t have been a very good husband or father to Noah, that he needed to leave so he could grow up. He only hates that he waited so long to return.