10 Things to Do Before I Die by Daniel Ehrenhaft Read Free Book Online Page A

break. But that’s not the sad part. The sad part is that you thought you could fool me. The sad part is that you assumed I’d be up at the garden until six. You assumed you had time to come back here and clean yourself up. But you Want to know something, Ted?” Her voice catches; she sounds as if she’s about to cry. “You Want to know Why I’m not up there? I canceled today to surprise you. Those people up there Were counting on me to help them, and I canceled because I knew this application Was a chore for you, and so I … oh, forget it.”
    “Rachel, no, Wait. What?”
    She heads off toward the subway entrance on the corner. “Nothing,” she mutters. She doesn’t turn around. “But you don’t have to make up some BS excuse about getting held up by a fry cook With a Water gun.”
    “It’s true!” I call after her.
    Now I feel bad. I feel Worse than bad. I Was Wrong; I didn’t Want to get into a fight. I hate fighting. Besides, Who Would Want to fight With Rachel? She’s too nice! And it’s completely my fault: I baited her into an argument When I should have been grateful for her showing up here to surprise me. I should have taken time to explain the truth instead of spacing out With a vision of drunkenly reenacting Feel the Love, 1975!
    For a second I Wonder if I should chase after her. Probably not a Wise move. The dizziness has kicked in again. The sideWalk appears to be tilting for some reason.
    “Rachel, I’m sorry—”
    She hurries down the subway steps.
    Good grief. Now I know I should chase after her. I know this With every fiber of my guilty soul. I should be honest. I should explain What happened: that I just lost myself for a second in one of those Wild daydreams I always have Whenever I Want to be somewhere else—the daydreams that Won’t come true but that still give me the little pick-me-ups I need to get through the unpleasant moments in life… .
    But I don’t.
    I never do What I should.

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    I can’t dwell on Rachel, I tell myself. No. Right now I have to figure out Why I feel so sick. Then I can lie down. And after that, I can call her and apologize. Rachel and I both need a chance to cool off, anyway. So as soon as I finish all the tasks that require my immediate attention—changing the T-shirt, Washing the face, brushing the teeth—I’m ready to get started.
    Except …
    I find myself standing in my darkened bedroom, staring at my phone.
    Which is When I think: I don’t really Want to know What’s Wrong With me. Of course I don’t. It’ll freak me out too much.
    It’s a little past 6 p.m.
    I have one new message. The numeral 1 blinks in red on the digital panel, over and over again.
    In addition to taking me to the Hong Phat Noodle House on my sixteenth birthday, my parents also gave me a private phone line. Plus a celly, a TV, a cable modem, and a credit card. “Tools for adulthood!” they said. It Was generous loot, to be sure, but it Was sort of overwhelming. I didn’t really need those tools for adulthood. I Was happy using theirs. But now the issue never even comes up. Now, on those rare occasions When they’re actually home, there’s no reason to bug them about getting off the phone or the Net or Watching What I Want to Watch on TV. Likewise, they don’t have to bug me. They can tune in to the Home Shopping Network to their hearts’ content. In fact, We barely have to communicate at all. Which is … good?
    Blink blink blink …
    Maybe it’s Rachel. Maybe she beat me to an apology. That Would certainly be in keeping With her character: to take the blame for something that isn’t her fault at all just to avoid conflict. So I hope it isn’t Rachel. Be strong! I urge her, attempting to communicate telepathically via my vertiginous brain. You should be mad at me!
    As I gaze at the red flash, I’m conscious of two things. The first is that according to Mark and Nikki, I’m supposed to have sex With