“Just go ahead,” Luke says glumly.
I take a deep breath, and slowly, carefully, I tell Luke the story of the memory that I know, from my notes, came back to me yesterday. I still remember it today, so I don’t need to look back at my notes to explain everything. I’m detailed but to the point, never wavering until the very end.
“And then I die?”
“Yes,” I say, my eyes welling up with tears. Luke and I will have a great relationship. We’ll talk about marriage, but he won’t get the chance to propose. Instead, he’ll die.
The color drains from Luke’s face, but he doesn’t cry with me. Instead, he’s still, pensive.
“Are you all right?” I ask after I’ve dried my tears.
“I don’t know,” Luke says, still immobile. He holds his coffee cup awkwardly by his left leg. I take it from him and set it on the table.
“I’m sorry for telling you.”
“No, don’t be,” he says. “I’d rather know.”
I’m not sure I feel the same way about my own end, but I don’t admit as much. Luke continues.
“I think knowing about it is better, because then maybe I can avoid it. We can avoid it together,” he says, with forced strength.
“I guess,” I say, looking into his eyes.
“No, seriously. Okay, yes, this is pretty intense. I’m a little… I don’t know. I can’t quite process it all right now. But don’t you think the advance warning gives me the advantage?”
“But, Luke, I—”
“No, really. You changed something with Page. You’ve changed other things, too. You can change this. It won’t happen,” he says with authority, as if he’s trying to convince himself. I guess that’s the best anyone can do with this information.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say calmly.
“I am right,” he says, his voice increasing in volume. “You’ll change your future. You’ll save me.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Then we just won’t go down the alley. Trust me, it won’t happen.”
Luke hugs me tight and kisses me with such strength that I almost buy his story. But when he releases me, I see it flash across his eyes.
Fear.
Hoping to distract him, I offer my notes so that he can read up on yesterday’s events while I get ready for school. As I shower, I can’t help but wonder whether I did the right thing by telling him.
Then again, maybe he’s right.
Maybe knowing how to avoid bad situations is enough.
Reaching for my fluffy white towel hanging on the hook, I think one thought over and over again: Please, be enough.
44
Jamie looks at me in Spanish class without grimacing, but the rest of the day is bleak. I float through school in a fog, asking myself questions I can’t answer: Is my brother alive? Will Luke die the death I remember? Will I ever get to meet my father?
Surprisingly, the dad thing is heaviest today. I remember bits of him. I want more.
I want a dad.