continue.
I donât.
âThatâs why I had to stop and talk to you on the sidewalk,â he finally says.
âIt is?â
âYouâre carrying a burden too heavy for one person to bear.â
I say nothing to that, not sure what the hell to say.
âBut we canât solve the worldâs problems in a day, and youâre probably wondering if Iâm ever going to give you a ride home, right?â
I smile and stretch my legs. âYeah, sort of.â
âLetâs get going then.â He stands up and extends a hand to me.
I take his hand and stand up myself, feeling warm at the physical contact with him, but then I feel stupid, because, of course, itâs not like weâre ever going to get naked together.
Unless I can change his mind about that celibacy thing. But as I walk out to the beat-up, old Toyota with him, I realize thatâs not exactly what I want to do. Instead, I think I want Krishna to stay just as he isânot quite like any other guy Iâve ever met.
Maybe someday I could tell him the whole ugly truth about Sarahâs death, and he might not hate me for it. He might just smile that Jesus smile and tell me everything has a purpose. Maybe he will tell me how to sleep through the night while remembering that kind of truth.
But I doubt it.
Eleven
Asha
Spring break comes and goes. I realized right away I couldnât stay in the park forever unless I want to spend all my time smelling bad and starving, so I went back home to the house where Sarah is not, where all the questions about her death that have no answers scream at me. Home, 414 Redwood Way, has a gaping, empty space where my sister should be, and that space threatens to swallow me up, the closer I get to it. I stay in bed for the entire week trying not to get swallowed while most people my age are living it up. I try to read, but I canât focus. I hear nothing from Sin, and I want to die.
Thoughts of Tristan, and that kiss, alternately torture and entertain me. I can focus for a minute maybe on how it felt to have his mouth on me, his hand traveling up my thigh, but then thoughts of Sin and his anger always interfere, and Iâve decided itâs better to just put the whole thing out of my head as much as I can.
I also try not to think about Sarah, and what we would be doing if she were around on this day or that day or the next day. I mostly fail.
Lena hassles me to get out of bed, to help her with things. I refuse, and she flips out, and then she either goes to bed too or she leaves and goes to her boyfriend Ronâs house, where she is spending more and more time these days.
Rachel and I usually have a strict policy of not talking and staying the hell away from each other, but near the end of spring break, she passes my door, sees me lying in bed, and stops.
She looks like sheâs about to say something, but instead she just crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe, staring at me as if I were a strange bit of flotsam that had washed up on the beach.
âWhat?â
âYou canât stay in bed forever,â she points out, as if this is somehow a helpful piece of news.
âActually, I can.â
To this, she says nothing. Just keeps staring.
I consider telling her to go away, but it would take too much energy and would probably have the opposite effect of what I want.
I close my eyes, and a memory surfaces, one of Rachel taking care of me after the bone-marrow donation. I was in bed, achy and exhausted, while Lena and Ravi were at the hospital with Sarah. So we were home alone together, and it was probably Rachelâs first time having to take care of someone else. She seemed to be enjoying the responsibility, which surprised me even back then.
I remember her bringing Lenaâs laptop into the room, since we didnât own a television, and looking up online games for us to play while we sat side by side in bed. And she read to me
I donât.
âThatâs why I had to stop and talk to you on the sidewalk,â he finally says.
âIt is?â
âYouâre carrying a burden too heavy for one person to bear.â
I say nothing to that, not sure what the hell to say.
âBut we canât solve the worldâs problems in a day, and youâre probably wondering if Iâm ever going to give you a ride home, right?â
I smile and stretch my legs. âYeah, sort of.â
âLetâs get going then.â He stands up and extends a hand to me.
I take his hand and stand up myself, feeling warm at the physical contact with him, but then I feel stupid, because, of course, itâs not like weâre ever going to get naked together.
Unless I can change his mind about that celibacy thing. But as I walk out to the beat-up, old Toyota with him, I realize thatâs not exactly what I want to do. Instead, I think I want Krishna to stay just as he isânot quite like any other guy Iâve ever met.
Maybe someday I could tell him the whole ugly truth about Sarahâs death, and he might not hate me for it. He might just smile that Jesus smile and tell me everything has a purpose. Maybe he will tell me how to sleep through the night while remembering that kind of truth.
But I doubt it.
Eleven
Asha
Spring break comes and goes. I realized right away I couldnât stay in the park forever unless I want to spend all my time smelling bad and starving, so I went back home to the house where Sarah is not, where all the questions about her death that have no answers scream at me. Home, 414 Redwood Way, has a gaping, empty space where my sister should be, and that space threatens to swallow me up, the closer I get to it. I stay in bed for the entire week trying not to get swallowed while most people my age are living it up. I try to read, but I canât focus. I hear nothing from Sin, and I want to die.
Thoughts of Tristan, and that kiss, alternately torture and entertain me. I can focus for a minute maybe on how it felt to have his mouth on me, his hand traveling up my thigh, but then thoughts of Sin and his anger always interfere, and Iâve decided itâs better to just put the whole thing out of my head as much as I can.
I also try not to think about Sarah, and what we would be doing if she were around on this day or that day or the next day. I mostly fail.
Lena hassles me to get out of bed, to help her with things. I refuse, and she flips out, and then she either goes to bed too or she leaves and goes to her boyfriend Ronâs house, where she is spending more and more time these days.
Rachel and I usually have a strict policy of not talking and staying the hell away from each other, but near the end of spring break, she passes my door, sees me lying in bed, and stops.
She looks like sheâs about to say something, but instead she just crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe, staring at me as if I were a strange bit of flotsam that had washed up on the beach.
âWhat?â
âYou canât stay in bed forever,â she points out, as if this is somehow a helpful piece of news.
âActually, I can.â
To this, she says nothing. Just keeps staring.
I consider telling her to go away, but it would take too much energy and would probably have the opposite effect of what I want.
I close my eyes, and a memory surfaces, one of Rachel taking care of me after the bone-marrow donation. I was in bed, achy and exhausted, while Lena and Ravi were at the hospital with Sarah. So we were home alone together, and it was probably Rachelâs first time having to take care of someone else. She seemed to be enjoying the responsibility, which surprised me even back then.
I remember her bringing Lenaâs laptop into the room, since we didnât own a television, and looking up online games for us to play while we sat side by side in bed. And she read to me
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