The Day Before by Lisa Schroeder Read Free Book Online Page B

me.
Please.
Don’t be like them.
    “What?”
    “You are beautiful.”

let chance decide
    The fire
and Cade’s arms
keep me warm.
I love the warmth.
    “Think your family is worried?” he asks.
“It’s getting late.”
    “I was supposed to stay at a hotel.”
    “Change of plans?” he asks,
trying to sound casual when
we both know it’s not
a casual question at all.
    “You could say that.”
    “Good. I want you here.”
    Silence settles around us.
    But then I push it away,
wanting him to know
there’s more to my wish
than what I told him.
    “Cade, I don’t want to go.
I mean, at all.
Heads, I stay.
Tails, I go?”

I surrender
    It’s true.
    My wish for
one day
has turned into
a wish
for many days
like this one.
    For months
my life has been
one giant game
of tug-of-war.
I’m tired of the
pulling.
I need to let go,
to breathe, to remember
what life is about.
And it’s about days
like this one.
    Is it really so wrong
to want to start over,
to build a life
where every day
I wake up
and have a beautiful day
like this one?

Two weeks ago
Dear Amber,
I made a reservation for us at the beach. For the night before you leave.
We can spend a lovely day there, stay at the hotel, get up early, and come home, filled with wonderful memories.
How’s that sound?
Love,
Mom

Two weeks ago
Dear Mom,
Please don’t be mad. Please?
I love that you want to take me to my favorite place on earth. I love how you knew it would comfort me at a time when not much else could.
But I think I want to go to the beach by myself. Would that be all right? It’s nothing personal. You know I love you guys. I’d just like some time by myself before I go. I can’t explain why I need to do this. I just do.
Thanks for making the reservations. You’re so good at knowing what I need.
You’re so good at being my mom!
Love,
Amber

taking control
    “You have to remember, Amber.
Staying would mean losing
the good along with the bad.”
He looks at me.
“You’d lose everything.”
    I stroke his cheek.
“Not everything.”
    “It’s really not something you
should leave to chance.”
    Maybe not.
Maybe I don’t flip a coin.
Maybe I simply make the choice.
    Tear my life
from their hands
and put it back where
it belongs—into my own.
    It would be so much easier
if I wasn’t two long
years away from eighteen.
It’s such an impossible situation.
    Cade takes my hand
and pulls me to
my feet.
    “Are we leaving?” I ask.
    “I want to show you something,” he says.

going, going—where?
    We leave everything
behind on the beach.
    The blanket,
the fire,
the glitter,
my bag.
    It’s all there,
so we’ll be back.
    More than that,
we aren’t going far.

the reveal
    Up the beach,
through a gate,
around a greenhouse,
through a sliding-glass door,
and into a home.
    A stale smell
greets us,
and I have to resist
the desire to run
to a window
and throw it wide open.
    Cade flips the light switch
and we’re standing
in a kitchen where
faded wallpaper
of old, country
kitchen utensils
clings to the walls.
    Dirty dishes stacked
on every available surface
cry out for attention.
I can almost taste the despair.
    He leads me
to another room
and turns on the light.
It’s a family room
and everywhere I look—
on tables, on top of
the entertainment center,
on the walls—
there are family photos.
    I walk over to
a framed collage
with pictures of two boys and
a young man who I assume
is his dad because he looks
just like Cade.
    Photos of them
on the boat,
at the aquarium,
at the beach,
digging holes,
building sand castles,
flying kites.
    I whisper, afraid of waking someone.
“Your dad lives here?”
    “You don’t have to whisper.
They’re not home.”
    “Where are they?”
    “At the hospital.”
    With just a few words,
so many questions
answered.
    That’s why he was alone
today.
    That’s why he said no more pictures
today.
    That’s why he needed me
as much as I needed him
today.

his story
    On an old floral couch
that smells nothing
like flowers