Eleanor & Grey Read online

  SUBJECT: Timing

  Ellie,

  You’ve been gone for a week, and it feels so weird without you here.

  I’m a jerk, and I handled things really badly. I’m sorry. In my head, I just thought we could at least try to make it work. I haven’t felt like this about anyone before, and I just hate that you’re gone. I didn’t know caring about someone could happen so fast, and I’m just not sure I know how to shut off the caring. My life has been lonely for a while now. I thought lonely was the default option, though being lonely was normal. Even though I’ve always been surrounded by people, it’s as if no one really knew me. And then came you.

  I didn’t mean to storm off and slam my door like that. Sometimes my head just gets so clouded I’m not sure how to handle my own thoughts.

  I’m really going to miss you, and I’m not used to feeling this way.

  I know that’s selfish, and I know you’re going through so much worse, and I know it’s stupid for me to even be this sad about it when your life just flipped upside down, but it hurts.

  Hopefully you can forgive me and we can be friends.

  -Grey

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: November 24, 8:00 AM

  SUBJECT: Re: Timing

  Grey,

  You’d have to be crazy to think I wouldn’t still want to be your friend.

  -Ellie

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: December 2, 8:54 PM

  SUBJECT: Father figures

  My father’s such a freaking tool.

  He’s hammering down on me to start interning at his company, but I just want to finish my senior year without that extra stress.

  He called me a pussy for not having any drive.

  I never want to be like him. I never want to be that cold.

  I hate him…at least that’s what I tell myself, because that makes it easier. Truth is, I kind of still want his approval. It doesn’t make sense, right? He’s never around, and when he is he’s an asshole. He hardly knows me, and what he does know he doesn’t approve of. Still, I have this deeply rooted need to make him proud.

  Being human is weird.

  I’d much rather be an alien.

  How are things in Florida?

  -Grey

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: December 2, 9:30PM

  SUBJECT: Re: Father figures

  I’m sorry about your dad, that’s tough, but you gotta do whatever makes you happy in this moment—that’s what your grandpa would’ve said, right?

  Things down here are fine. It’s been quiet, but it still feels loud. Mom is doing okay, but Dad is struggling. It’s like he’s screaming in silence, and his echoes are bouncing off the walls. I hate it. I can only take so much, which led to my next life choice: I’m going to pick up some new hobbies, just to keep me out of the house.

  I hate being home now, which is weird because it used to be my favorite place in the world. It’s just too sad.

  I’m thinking of taking a crocheting class downtown with Mom, if she’s feeling strong enough to do it. I figured it might be nice to do something she’s into.

  Did you know she learned to make cardigans from my grandma? That’s where all of my cardigans came from. The dragonfly was the last one she gave me. It’s my favorite one.

  I’m also thinking of taking karate, because I just watched Enter the Dragon, and now I’m pretty sure I have to learn how to break a piece of wood with my foot.

  Do you think alien teenagers get annoyed with their alien moms and dads?

  I really want to imagine angst-filled adolescent aliens rolling their one eye at their overprotective parents.

  Can you imagine the fights?

  “Clean your room. Brush your hair. Stop taking the spaceship out at night to party on Mars.”

  Anyway. Watch Enter the Dragon. You won’t be sorry.

  -Ellie

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: December 3, 7:13 AM

  SUBJECT: Enter the Dragonflies

  Ellie,

  I’m kind of hurt that you’d think I haven’t seen Enter the Dragon.

  Me! Of all people! Ellie, I’ve seen that movie about fifty times, and I never get sick of it. It’s a classic. If you’re into that watch The 36th Chamber of Shaolin next. It’s so good!

  Also, I’m happy you’re picking up hobbies. I’m going to feel really lost when the basketball season is over. What will I do with all the free time? Maybe I’ll pick up a hobby, too. Or hell, maybe I’ll just take the internship. Who knows?

  Also, the idea of you kicking ass while knitting sweaters is pretty badass.

  My kind of woman.

  -Grey

  P.S. Saw a dragonfly last night. Reminded me of you.

  14

  Eleanor

  I wished I could say things magically turned around once we got Mom near the water, but it wasn’t true. Her health only declined more each day. For months, it felt like an uphill battle we were losing over and over. After a while, we had to push her around in a wheelchair. Some days, she couldn’t even get out of bed, and others we had to rush her to the hospital because she couldn’t breathe.

  After her last trip to the ER in late April, we all knew time was running out. We never talked about it, though, because talking made it more real than any of us were ready for it to be.

  Ding ding.

  I finally signed online late one evening in April. I’d been avoiding doing it for a while, because whenever I signed on, Greyson was there waiting for updates, and I hated that lately the updates were getting sadder and sadder.

  That night, I needed him. I just needed to talk to him, and like the loyal boy he always was, when I signed on at ten at night, he was there.

  GreyHoops87: Hey, Ellie! Just checking in on you. You haven’t been online a lot, so just a heads-up, you’re going to have a whole inbox’s worth of emails filled with my mindless random thoughts.

  EGHogwarts: Hey, sorry. Things have been a bit crazy.

  GreyHoops87: It’s okay. I get it. Any update?

  EGHogwarts: Just sad ones.

  GreyHoops87: I’ll listen to the sad ones, too.

  I sighed, running my hand over my face.

  EGHogwarts: I’m going to put on a five-minute timer, and that’s all the time we’re putting toward the sad stuff, okay? Otherwise, I’ll drown in it. So, I’m going to word-vomit and get it all out all at once. You don’t even have to reply. I just…if I say the stuff to you, I’ll feel like it’s not just waiting to explode inside of me.

  GreyHoops87: Five minutes on the clock. Annnd go!

  EGHogwarts: I think today’s the first day I realized my mom is actually dying. Before there was an unrealistic belief that she was going to get better, a belief that there would be a day she didn’t need the wheelchair anymore, or that she’d stand up and be able to dance again, or paint. But today we sat by the water, and I felt it. I felt the ending closing in. I felt that our goodbyes are a lot closer than our good mornings. I’ve never been so scared in all my life, and I have these terrible thoughts that make me feel like the worst daughter ever. If she were gone, she wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. If she died, she’d be free of the pain. What kind of monster does that make me? How can those thoughts even cross my mind? Anyway, I guess that’s where I am right now, and I completely understand if that makes you want to pull back a little from talking to me. Because right now this is me: I’m sad. I’m hurting. I’m so sad that sometimes I just want to stay in bed. I’m so sad that sometimes I have dark, dark thoughts and I don’t really know how to control them, and that can be a lot. I can be a lot. My sadness is a lot right now, and I don’t even know how to handle it, so I don’t expect you to know, either.

  I hit send and waited for a reply. And waited. And waited.

  GreyHoop
s87: What else?

  EGHogwarts: What do you mean what else?

  GreyHoops87: That was only two minutes of our five. You have three more minutes to spill out your heart on this open canvas. I’m not going anywhere, Ellie. I’m here.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I took a deep breath. I had been given permission to express myself wholeheartedly. What a freeing thing that was to have.

  EGHogwarts: I think that’s it. That’s everything I’m feeling.

  GreyHoops87: Do you want my reply?

  EGHogwarts: No, not now. Not yet. I just needed to get it all out, I think. So, if we could do anything but talk about sad stuff, that would make me feel better.

  GreyHoops87: Okay.

  GreyHoops87: So, what did the fish say when he swam into a wall?

  EGHogwarts: What?

  GreyHoops87: Dam.

  I smiled.

  Thank you, Grey.

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: April 29, 10:54 PM

  SUBJECT: I know you said

  Ellie,

  I know you said you didn’t need my reply, but being the stubborn guy that I am, I wanted to email you after our talk tonight. I just wanted you to know that you’re not too sad for me. If anything, you are the perfect amount of sad, because you are going through a really shitty thing. Honestly, I would feel a bit scared if you were happy.

  Be sad.

  Happy can come later.

  And you don’t have to push me away. You aren’t too much for me. I want to be there for you, and I’m not going to stop just because you tell me to. This is what being my friend means. It means me being too much sometimes, me checking in on you and wanting to know about the bad days. It means when you’re drowning, I drown, too.

  It’s okay for you to lean on me, even if I’m a thousand miles away.

  Also, and I cannot make this clear enough: you not wanting your mom to suffer doesn’t mean you are evil in any way, shape, or form.

  If anything, it makes you a good person because you don’t want your loved one to hurt anymore.

  That’s not a monster—it’s a saint.

  Don’t let those thoughts eat you up at night.

  You’re a good person, Eleanor Gable.

  And if you ever forget, just check for my emails.

  I’ll be there to remind you.

  -Grey

  15

  Eleanor

  On a quiet afternoon after I returned home from school, Mom and Dad were sitting outside near the ocean, looking out at the waves crashing against the shore.

  I walked toward them and smiled. Dad looked at me, his eyes dripping with tears, and my smile quickly disappeared. “What is it?” I asked.

  Dad couldn’t even speak.

  He just shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand.

  “Mom?” I moved over to her. She was resting her head against the back of the wheelchair, and her eyes were closed. I took her hand into mine. “Mom.”

  She ever-so-lightly squeezed my hand.

  “Still here, Eleanor Rose,” she said.

  I exhaled in relief. “I was nervous.”

  “It’s okay.” She slowly opened her eyes and raised a hand to my cheek. “Can I have a minute alone with Ellie, Kevin?”

  He cleared his throat and sniffled. “Yeah, of course.”

  Dad walked away, and I sat down next to Mom’s wheelchair. The light breeze brushed against our skin. She was so tiny, nothing but skin and bones. Sometimes I worried if I touched her even softly, she’d just shatter into a million pieces.

  “Do you need another blanket?” I asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “Maybe you’re thirsty? I can get water.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Or maybe—”

  “Ellie, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

  But you’re not.

  We sat there, staring out at the afternoon sky in complete silence. Hours passed, and the sun began to set. The sky was painted with vibrant colors, and it was beautiful watching how they blended into the ocean.

  “Your father’s going to need you,” she said. “More than he knows, he’s going to need your light, Ellie.”

  “I’ll be there for him.”

  “I know you will.” She inhaled deep and exhaled slowly. “I once read a tale about dragonflies, life, and death. Can I share it with you?”

  “Yes.”

  She closed her eyes, and I watched each breath she took. “It spoke about how the dragonfly is born a larva, but when it’s ready, it sheds its casing and becomes the beauty we see flying around us. In many stories, this is seen as the process of both life and death. The dragonfly emerging from its casing is just like when the soul leaves the body. There are two stages to the dragonfly. The first stage is when it is an insect that lives underwater. This is their life on earth. The next is when they emerge and find their flight. They become airborne and find a new freedom. That’s when their soul is freed from the restraints of their body. Isn’t that beautiful, Ellie? Isn’t that an amazing thought? That even after death our spirits live on?”

  Tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I was quiet.

  I couldn’t reply.

  It hurt too much.

  “I won’t be in pain,” she promised. “It won’t hurt anymore. I will be freer than ever before, and you know what? I will still be here. Whenever you see a dragonfly, I need you to know it’s me.”

  “Mom…” I kept holding her hand, and the tears kept flowing. “It’s too soon.”

  “It’s always too soon, baby, but I just want you to know…” She tilted her head in my direction and opened her eyes. “You are my heartbeats. You are my masterpiece. In a way, I feel as if I cheated death, because I get to live on within you, in your smile, in your laugh, in your heart. I’m there for it all, Eleanor. I’m eternal because of you. So please, do all the things. Take risks. Find adventures. Keep living for me and know that it has been the greatest honor being your mother. I am so lucky to have loved you.”

  “I love you, Mom. More than words, I love you.”

  “I love you, baby girl. Now, can you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Can you walk me to the water?” I hesitated for a minute, and looked back toward the house where Dad had headed. I was positive she wasn’t strong enough to make it to the shore on her own. She’d been so weak lately, yet she placed a hand on my forearm. “It’s okay. I know you got me.”

  So, I bent down and took off her slippers and socks, and then I removed my shoes and socks, too. I took her hands in mine and, slowly but surely, walked her to the edge of the water. It was freezing that afternoon. The water was chilled beyond words, and we both squeaked as it touched our toes and rose to our ankles.

  We laughed, too.

  I’d never forget that, hearing Mom’s laughter.

  At one point, she asked me to let her go, and she stood where her feet met the ocean. Her eyes shut, and she held her hands up in the air, her arms forming a V, and tears rolled down her cheeks as the setting sun kissed her face. “Yes, yes, yes,” she cried, feeling every part of the world around her, seeming to feel more alive than she had in quite some time. Then she reached out to me, and I took her hand in mine. She leaned on me, and I was strong enough to hold her up on my own. We stared out into the night, finding a new kind of comfort.

  She was okay in that moment.

  She was happy.

  And I swore, for a short period of time, the water healed her soul.

  Two days later, Mom took her last breath.

  Dad held her right hand, and I held her left.

  The clock in the bedroom ticked, but time stood still.

  I thought there would be some kind of comfort that came from knowing she was no longer in pain. I thought since we had seen it coming, it wouldn’t hurt as much. I thought I would be somewhat okay.

  But I wasn’t.

  Every single part of me ached.


  Nothing can prepare a person for death.

  You can’t speed past the hurt to reach the closure.

  You are simply overtaken by sorrow. Grief shows its face and it unforgivingly drowns you, and for a while, you wonder if staying under the water would be better than ever breathing again.

  When my mother took her last breath, I wanted to take my last one right there beside her, but I knew that wasn’t what she had wanted. She wanted me to emerge from the darkness, to swim again.

  And I would.

  Just not that night.

  That night, heartbreak won the battle as I steadily fell apart.

  16

  Greyson

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: May 1, 4:33 PM

  SUBJECT: Sorry

  I ran into Shay at school today, and she told me about your mom. She said she and her mom were heading down to Florida to help your dad and you out. I’m sorry, Ellie. I’m so damn sorry and I know that doesn’t do anything or change anything, but I just wanted you to know. There’s not a day that passes that I don’t think about you guys, about you. I just wish there were something more I could do.

  I remember when my grandpa died, I just sat around, uncertain of what to do. I’d never lost anyone before, and it fucked me up for a good minute. People told me to pull myself together and man up about it. “Death happens, kid. Better get used to it,” my uncle Tommy said. “Real men don’t cry,” my dad echoed.

  I think that’s bullshit, though.

  Be fucked up for a good minute.

  Don’t pressure yourself to feel better until you’re ready.

  I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.

  She was what every kid dreamed of having as a parent. I know I did a million times over.

  I’m just really fucking sorry.