Five Feet Apart(53)

My eyes travel to the clock on my nightstand as another minute ticks by. Every change in the red numbers putting yesterday further in the past.

Putting Poe in the past.

Poe died on my birthday.

I shake my head sadly, remembering his laughter at dinner. He was fine and then just like that . . .

I kick myself, the shock and horror that filled Stella’s face as she looked at me, the anger as she pushed me away, haunting me for the millionth time today.

Why did I do that? What was I thinking?

I wasn’t. That’s the problem. Stella thought out all the rules and I couldn’t just follow them? What’s wrong with me? It’s only a matter of time before I do something really stupid. Something that gets us both killed.

I’m getting the fuck out of here.

I launch myself out of the chair, grabbing my big duffel from under my bed. I throw open the drawers and shove my clothes into it, clearing everything out as quickly as I can. Calling an Uber, I pack my art supplies and sketchbooks into my backpack, the pencils and the papers all shoved messily inside after the important stuff. I put the framed cartoon from my mom gently on top of the mound in my duffel bag, wrapping it carefully in a shirt, before zipping my bag closed and dropping a pin for the driver to meet me at the east entrance.

I put on my coat and slip out of my room, booking it down the hall to the double doors and down the elevator to the east lobby. Pulling my beanie on, I shove open the door with my side, heading just inside the lobby doors to wait.

Tapping my foot impatiently, I check the status of my car, squinting when I see movement on the other side of the doors. The glass fogs up and I watch as a hand reaches up to draw a heart.

Stella.

I can see her now, in the darkness.

We stare at each other, the glass of the door between us. She’s bundled up in a thick green jacket. A scarf is wrapped tightly around her neck, a pair of gloves on her small hands, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

I reach up, pressing my palm to the glass, inside the heart that she drew.

She crooks her finger, telling me to come outside.

My heart jumps. What is she doing? She has to come back inside; it’s freezing. I have to go get her.

I push carefully through the door, the cold air hitting me right in the face. Pulling my hat down lower over my ears, I walk over to her, my footsteps crunching noisily as I walk through the perfect blanket of white.

“Let’s go see the lights,” she says as I stop next to her, the invisible pool cue between us. She’s excited. Almost manic.

I look in the direction of the holiday lights, knowing how far they are. “Stella, that’s gotta be two miles away. Come back inside—”

She cuts me off. “I’m going.” Her eyes meet mine, resolute, and full of something I’ve never seen there before, something wild. She’s going with or without me. “Come with me.”

I’m all for being rebellious, but this seems like a death wish. Two kids with barely functioning lungs walking two miles one-way to go look at lights? “Stella. Now isn’t the time to be a rebel. Is this about Poe? This is about Poe, isn’t it?”

She turns to face me. “It’s about Poe. It’s about Abby. It’s about you and me, Will, and everything we’ll never get to do together.”

I stay silent, watching her. Her words sound like they could come straight from my mouth, but when I hear them from her, they don’t sound the same.

“If this is all we get, then let’s take it. I want to be fearless and free,” she says, giving me a look, daring me. “It’s just life, Will. It’ll be over before we know it.”

*

We walk down an empty sidewalk, the streetlights over our heads making the icy patches shine. I try to stay six feet away from her while we walk, our steps slow as we carefully try not to slip.

I peer at the road in the distance and then back at Stella. “Let’s get an Uber, at least?” I think of the one that’s already on the way.

She rolls her eyes. “I want to walk and enjoy the night,” she says, leaning in and grabbing my hand in hers.

I jerk back, but she holds on tight, her fingers lacing through mine. “Gloves! We’re good.”

“But we’re supposed to be six feet—” I start to say as she moves away from me, stretching our arms out but refusing to let go.

“Five feet,” she shoots back, determined. “I’m keeping that one.”

I watch her for a moment, taking in the look on her face, and let all the fear and nervousness melt away. I’m finally outside a hospital. Going to actually see something instead of looking at it from a roof or a window.

And Stella is right next to me. Holding my hand. And even though I know it’s wrong, I can’t see how it possibly could be.

I cancel the Uber.

We trudge on through the snow, the lights beckoning to us in the distance, the park border coming slowly closer and closer.

“I still want to see the Sistine Chapel,” she says while we walk, her footsteps assertive as she crunches through the snow.

“That’d be cool,” I say, shrugging. It’s not at the top of my list, but if she’s there, I’d go too.

“Where do you want to go?” she asks me.

“Just about everywhere,” I say, thinking of all the places I’ve been but missed out on. “Brazil, Copenhagen, Fiji, France. I want to go on a worldwide trip where I just go to all the places I’ve been in a hospital at but never got to explore. Jason said if I ever could do it, he’d go with me.”