In an Instant(43)

“That sucks,” Mo says, stating the fact so plainly it erases every trace of bitterness from Chloe’s face, and for the first time since that awful day, Chloe’s lips curl at the corners with the smallest hint of a smile.

“What are you doing down here?” Mo asks, changing the subject.

“My dad’s gone AWOL,” Chloe says. “And my mom thinks he might have come down here.”

Mo’s brow creases. “Isn’t he in a wheelchair?”

“Supposed to be.”

Mo doesn’t ask anything more because she doesn’t want to break Chloe’s concentration now that they’ve reached the sand, each step my sister takes suddenly precarious, and I gain a new appreciation for toes. I never knew how important they were for balance.

When they’ve shuffled far enough to see beyond the ridge of rocks to the open ocean, they stop. Chloe takes a deep inhale of the salty air, and I’m so jealous I groan.

I love the ocean, every part of it—the water, the waves, the sand, the wind, the constant ebb and flow—but mostly I love the smell, the briny tang I inhaled almost every day I was alive, a scent that conjures up a million memories of hot dogs and s’mores and volleyball and surfing and dolphins and collecting seashells and building sandcastles and burying my brother in the sand.

Chloe’s lower lip trembles, and Mo folds her arms around herself. It would be impossible for them to stand there and not think of me. This was my playground.

“I miss her,” Mo says.

Chloe closes her eyes and nods.

“It’s like there’s this great big hole with her gone. This enormous emptiness.”

Chloe pinches her nose, and I know she is on the brink of losing it. Since my sister was rescued, she has not cried, and I don’t know if it is a good thing or not that she is on the verge now.

Mo doesn’t notice. Her eyes still on the ocean, she goes on, “And it’s like it is all around me all the time, and it sucks away all the light and absorbs all the sound so everything is less bright . . . less fun . . .” She sighs, lowers her face, then lifts it again to return her gaze to the water. “Less, I don’t know, less everything.”

Chloe’s eyes leak, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pinches her nose tight, trying to hold them in.

“When I think about her,” Mo says, “like now, I try to be happy because I know that’s what she would want and that she is someplace really good, but it’s all the other times, when I’m not thinking about her, that it’s hard, because those are the moments I miss her the most, when I feel so alone it’s like I’m floating in this great big sea or drifting in outer space, like gravity has deserted me or like I’m going to run out of air.”

Chloe sniffles, and Mo’s eyes snap to her. “Sorry, Clover,” she says quickly, suddenly realizing Chloe is crying.

Chloe shakes her head. “No, it’s okay.” She blots her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I miss her too. All the time.”

“I mean, I get it,” Mo says as her own eyes fill. “People die. And I get that I’m still here and that life goes on, and that eventually the hole will get smaller. At least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Don’t you wish everyone would just shut up?” Chloe says.

Mo nods, looks up, almost smiles, looks back at the ocean. “Exactly. Because it’s not that I don’t get what they’re saying. I do. But right now, the hole, it’s really, really big, and it’s really, really lonely, and I really, really miss her.”

For a moment they stand quiet, both of them looking out at the ocean and holding back their emotions, and as I watch them, both so sad, I feel awful. I don’t want to be a black hole that sucks away their happiness and makes them cry, and I wish they could see the fullness rather than the void. I am so tired of being missed and of people being miserable every time they think of me. Don’t just try to be happy when you think of me—be happy. Look at the ocean and smile. Inhale the scent and celebrate. Remember me. Remember that I was never sad for more than a day, rarely for more than an hour. Remember the amazing times we had and what a goofball I was. Remember that I was scared of anything with more than four legs but fearless of adventure. Remember. Carry me inside you as a light that brightens your world and makes everything better. I don’t want to be a void, a hole, a shadow. REMEMBER ME!

“Do you know what I think about?” Chloe says. “When I dyed and cut my hair. Not one person commented on it—not my family, my teachers, my friends. Everyone just pretended I had always had butch black hair. But not Finn. Finn comes right out and says, ‘Wow, very Buttercup.’ You know, from The Powerpuff Girls. She didn’t lie and pretend she liked it, but she also didn’t pretend it didn’t happen. Thing is, she didn’t care that it happened. It didn’t matter if my hair was black, green, or purple—I was still exactly who I’d always been to her. There’s no one else I know like that.”

“She hated your hair,” Mo says with a sniffly laugh.

Chloe manages another small smile, and I cheer for Mo. In ten minutes, she’s accomplished more than a slew of psychologists and doctors have been able to in weeks. Then I laugh that Chloe’s single precious memory of me is one I don’t actually remember myself. It’s strange and wonderful, the things we do that we don’t realize we’ve done.