“But?” I say in astonishment.
“It’s obvious that there’s someone in your heart who—”
“Are you talking about Dani?”
“Yes,” my mom says.
“I don’t understand.”
“I think what your mother is trying to say, son,” Dad says, “is, not to let your head get in the way of your heart, or you just might miss out on something more incredible than you ever imagined.”
I nod my head like I get it even though I don’t. I know Dani and I would be incredible together. I just don’t know how to get from where we were, to where we are now, to the future that we used to both dream about.
But I appreciate the sentiment.
Eight or eighteen.
Chase
“I heard you’re in trouble,” Dani says, startling me when I enter my room.
She’s lying on her stomach, sideways across my bed, like she owns it. Her elbows are on the mattress, her chin nestled on her fist. Her knees bent and her feet up in the air. I could be eight or eighteen. It’s like a moment wrapped in time.
“Not really,” I fib, holding up the pages. “Mom gave me these. They are journal entries from the day I was born. She wants me to read them sometime.”
“Nothing else is going on tonight, right?”
“Nope, and it’s just you and me, if that’s okay.”
“It sounds perfect. Let’s read them.”
She sits up, pretzeling her legs, and I join her on the bed, matching her position, tucking my legs in, and facing her.
What I really want to do is kiss her. Not read some old letters.
I lean in and press my lips against hers. Her lips are soft and sweet, and the light floral scent of the perfume she puts on her neck envelops me.
We kiss for a bit, but before things start to heat up, she pushes back.
“Are you not dying to read them?” she asks, biting the corner of her lip with her teeth.
She has never had a lot of patience. Once she decides to do something, she’s ready to roll. A characteristic she shares with her brother.
“I’m not sure reading them now is a good idea. Mom and I could have died, you know? They might not be that happy. Shouldn’t I be happy on my birthday?”
The tooth slides off her lip, and she presses her lips against my cheek. “Do you want me to read them to you?”
And I feel lost in the moment. Emotions that I’ve tried to push back since that day come flying back. The closeness we shared. The tenderness. The vulnerability.
I nod gratefully. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
“Okay,” she says, squeezing my hand with one of hers and picking up a page in the other. “Here we go.
“Dear Baby Mac,” she says. “Aww, isn’t that cute? You were born three weeks early on September 7th, weighed in at six pounds five ounces, and were nineteen and a half inches long. You were early because you and Mommy got into a car accident, and it caused her to have something called a placental abruption. That’s a bad thing because it meant she was bleeding and you were not getting all the oxygen you needed.” She moves the paper away from her face. “That had to be really scary.”
“I know. And I think it’s going to get worse. I’m pretty sure, based on what I’ve overheard my parents say, that Mom, like, died. Or flatlined. And they had to bring her back.”
“Can you imagine?” Dani says.
“If you were my wife and pregnant with our child?” I offer.
She tilts her head at me. “I know we’ve talked a bit about being friends again. And it was probably stupid of us to sleep together last night—”
“That was not stupid,” I say with a grin, but then I turn serious. “But I know what you mean. We first slept together and felt comfortable doing so because of our friendship.”
“No.” She laughs. “I think that was because we had almost died from the lightning and you looked so hot, dripping wet.”
I can’t help the wide smile that forms on my face.
She gives my shoulder a little shove. “Oh, you like hearing that you’re hot, huh?”
“I would suspect anyone would like to hear that, but”—I point to my mouth—“this beaming grin is because I’m hearing it from you.”
“That’s sweet,” she says, leaning the top of her head against my chest. I bend down and kiss it. “But I guess, if nothing else, sleeping together sort of broke the ice between us.”
“I’ll say,” I tease.
She gives me a steamy kiss and then holds up the papers. “Let’s get through this first, and then we’ll see. Okay, where were we? Oh, yes. When you were born, you were a little blue, and your Apgar score was low. But the nurses took care of you, and the next time they did the score, you were almost perfect. Your mom had a rougher time, and for a while, I thought we had lost her. It was the worst pain I’d ever experienced. Way worse than any of the bones I’d broken. Even the time I fell out of a tree and they had to screw my arm back together. But when you love someone the way I love your mom, you’d happily take physical pain over the emotional kind.”
“That’s how I feel about you,” I blurt out.
I figure I’ll get some crap about it, but she goes, “That goes both ways, Chase. I know we haven’t been as close, but I can’t imagine you not being in my life.”
“But I really haven’t been in your life,” I counter.
“No, but when I look out my window, I see your room, and I know you’re there. College is cool, but I don’t have that view. That connection.”
I nod along with her. “I told you last night that I kept my curtains shut for two weeks. I couldn’t bear to look at your empty room.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, but then she breaks our gaze and keeps reading.
“She’s in the ICU now. Stable but critical. They say the next twenty-four hours are crucial. And I’ll admit, I’m scared. My parents are here—your grandparents. And Danny. Danny is my best friend, and he’s never left my side through all of this. I hope, someday, you will have a friend like him.” Dani looks up at me, tears in her eyes. “I’d like to think you got a friend like that in me.”
“That is what I had.”
“I want that back for us, Chase. Even if we don’t end up together. I really need you in my life.”
“And I need you,” I reply, gently stroking her arm.
She shakes her head, appearing to rid herself of whatever thoughts she was having, and keeps going.
“Everyone has been asking me what your name is. To be honest, I thought you were going to be a girl. We had agreed on a girl’s name but not a boy’s. But your mom’s favorite was Chase, so I decided on Chase Michael Mackenzie. You have a grandpa and grandma in heaven. And it might sound crazy, but when I was crying in the waiting room, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw your grandpa rocking you. When I turned to see if I was just hallucinating, he was gone. But I’m pretty sure he was there. Helping us get through it. Wow. That’s kind of cool.”
“Or creepy,” I tease.
“So, I gave you his middle name—Michael. I have to admit, I always thought most babies were kinda ugly. But not you. You’re perfect.”