Everything was messed up, most of all me. I was broken and I was dying and I was a heinous bitch for going on a date with someone the same week I’d learned I had a terminal illness. No matter how hard I was trying to act like one of the flirty Facebook girls with the whole world in front of her, I was a broken adult-child who’d spent most of my life in a hospital, and I just wasn’t built for this.
“Um, I should go,” I said as I got up.
“What? Why?”
I reached down to my left wrist to fumble with the silver bracelet my dad had gotten me on a work trip to the Bahamas, which I did every time I was nervous, but it wasn’t there. I’d lost it. Shit .
I bent over and started darting around in the sand looking for it. “Because it’s getting chilly and I can’t find my bracelet and you’re cute and I’m not and everything is all wrong and I just want to go home and take a bath and forget the world exists.”
Cooper opened his mouth to respond.
“Just don’t ask,” I said as I stopped and held up a hand. “I can’t explain. I’m sorry.”
“Well…I mean, I can see you again, right?”
I stared at him. Had this meltdown not done enough to push him away?
“Um, sure,” I said. “But only if you, like, want to, or whatever?”
“You’re delusional, Summer. Come here.” He walked over and pulled me into a hug. With a shiver I tried to ignore how good my name sounded on his lips, and how badly I wanted to hear it again, despite tonight. “You’re pretty and funny and you’re so empathetic you feel bad for catfish. A dude would have to be far stupider than me not to want to see you again.”
I just stared up at him for a minute, getting the acute sensation that I was being pulled into something.
“You’re someone , aren’t you, Summer?” he said next, his brown eyes searching me as they flashed against the stars.
“What?” I asked, shifting my shoulders a little. “We just met tonight. What do you mean?”
His bottom lip disappeared into his mouth. “Well, I’m a writer, and I’m big on characterizing people. I get the sense that you’re not a supporting player in this world, but a main character – am I correct?”
I smiled at the inexplicable admiration on his face.
Flirt back with him. Just try this.
“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” I asked.
“I guess we will.”
“Oh, and Cooper?”
“Yes?” he asked, almost breathlessly, as another firework popped in the low clouds.
“Happy birthday.”
I never did find that bracelet. So it goes.
6
On my first real Monday back in the real world since the diagnosis, I tried to go about my routine as normally as possible, just as I’d told Steinberg and Shelly I’d wanted to spend my time. I came into work at 1 PM for a half-day, but for some reason I felt totally irritable all afternoon. I spilled coffee from my syringe all over my pants and was accidentally super bitchy to my boss, but since she was so wrapped up in talking about her latest drama with her boyfriend or something, she barely noticed.
I worked at this tiny marketing firm called Social that utilized stuff kids used – e.g., social media – to market them stuff they didn’t use anymore, like day planners and address books and music players and calculators, basically everything the smartphone had made obsolete. Sometimes I felt a little gross, like I was selling corpses to babies, but the pay was okay and it was really easy as far as jobs went. When I was little everyone had always told me I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up, but they’d forgotten to tell me two very important things: 1. how to grow up, and 2. how to figure out what the hell I wanted once I’d done that. So after college had dumped me into a scary and changing world, I’d decided to find something to do while I grew up, and that had led me to this job.
Actually, the phrase “growing up” should’ve been stricken from the English language in my opinion,
“Um, I should go,” I said as I got up.
“What? Why?”
I reached down to my left wrist to fumble with the silver bracelet my dad had gotten me on a work trip to the Bahamas, which I did every time I was nervous, but it wasn’t there. I’d lost it. Shit .
I bent over and started darting around in the sand looking for it. “Because it’s getting chilly and I can’t find my bracelet and you’re cute and I’m not and everything is all wrong and I just want to go home and take a bath and forget the world exists.”
Cooper opened his mouth to respond.
“Just don’t ask,” I said as I stopped and held up a hand. “I can’t explain. I’m sorry.”
“Well…I mean, I can see you again, right?”
I stared at him. Had this meltdown not done enough to push him away?
“Um, sure,” I said. “But only if you, like, want to, or whatever?”
“You’re delusional, Summer. Come here.” He walked over and pulled me into a hug. With a shiver I tried to ignore how good my name sounded on his lips, and how badly I wanted to hear it again, despite tonight. “You’re pretty and funny and you’re so empathetic you feel bad for catfish. A dude would have to be far stupider than me not to want to see you again.”
I just stared up at him for a minute, getting the acute sensation that I was being pulled into something.
“You’re someone , aren’t you, Summer?” he said next, his brown eyes searching me as they flashed against the stars.
“What?” I asked, shifting my shoulders a little. “We just met tonight. What do you mean?”
His bottom lip disappeared into his mouth. “Well, I’m a writer, and I’m big on characterizing people. I get the sense that you’re not a supporting player in this world, but a main character – am I correct?”
I smiled at the inexplicable admiration on his face.
Flirt back with him. Just try this.
“I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” I asked.
“I guess we will.”
“Oh, and Cooper?”
“Yes?” he asked, almost breathlessly, as another firework popped in the low clouds.
“Happy birthday.”
I never did find that bracelet. So it goes.
6
On my first real Monday back in the real world since the diagnosis, I tried to go about my routine as normally as possible, just as I’d told Steinberg and Shelly I’d wanted to spend my time. I came into work at 1 PM for a half-day, but for some reason I felt totally irritable all afternoon. I spilled coffee from my syringe all over my pants and was accidentally super bitchy to my boss, but since she was so wrapped up in talking about her latest drama with her boyfriend or something, she barely noticed.
I worked at this tiny marketing firm called Social that utilized stuff kids used – e.g., social media – to market them stuff they didn’t use anymore, like day planners and address books and music players and calculators, basically everything the smartphone had made obsolete. Sometimes I felt a little gross, like I was selling corpses to babies, but the pay was okay and it was really easy as far as jobs went. When I was little everyone had always told me I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up, but they’d forgotten to tell me two very important things: 1. how to grow up, and 2. how to figure out what the hell I wanted once I’d done that. So after college had dumped me into a scary and changing world, I’d decided to find something to do while I grew up, and that had led me to this job.
Actually, the phrase “growing up” should’ve been stricken from the English language in my opinion,
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