Midnight Sun(44)

He jumps back in before I can start protesting again. “Katie. You can either have spent the past few weeks changing my life and becoming my favorite person only to leave me standing on your lawn like a chump, or we can keep making this the best summer of our lives.”

I shake my head. He’s crazy. Most guys would be running for the hills and thanking their lucky stars I let them off the hook so easily. And here Charlie is, trying to convince me we should stay together even though our relationship is completely doomed.

“I’ve done my research,” Charlie says, dead serious now. “I know what XP is. I know what’s going on. But we’re not people who don’t try. You knew that before I did.”

I finally break down, laughing and crying. Why choose, when both fit the moment so well?

“I’m not gonna sit back and watch this happen,” he tells me. “The choice is mine and I’m making it. I want to be with you.”

I wipe my eyes. Look into his. Throw my arms around his neck and kiss him like my life depends on it. And in some ways, maybe it does. It’s the kind of kiss—real and passionate—people probably wait their whole lives to experience, and I’m lucky enough to have mine now.

I realize that even in the worst of times there’s always a ray of hope. Charlie is mine.



As I’m sitting on the couch between my dad and Charlie a little later, happily slurping up lo mein, I can’t help thinking that despite the enormous poop sandwich I’ve been dealt I’m still grateful for everything my life has given me. For everything I don’t have—my mom, a group of friends, the hope of a happily ever after—there’s so much I do have. And always have had. And now there’s Charlie. I think about what he said to me earlier, and I feel the exact same way: He exists. I didn’t dream him up. And as sure as I feel his warmth next to me on the couch as his leg brushes against mine, I know that we’re not just a summer fling. That what we feel for each other is everlasting. That nothing can tear us apart.

Nothing. And that includes dying.





22

I have to beg and plead, but I convince my dad to go see Charlie’s big return to the pool. He’s been working his butt off ever since we swam together on what turned out to be both the best night and worst day of my life. And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be there to cheer him on along with everyone who ever supported him in swimming, including his friends, family, and former coach—and, I hope, a new one from Berkeley.

It’s kind of a pain to prepare for the trip to the high school pool—I have to slather myself in three coats of extra-strength prescription sunscreen and dress in thick layers that don’t match the summery weather. Dad has to apply a special protective film to the windows of his car to prevent UV rays from penetrating them, plus install basically what’s like a two-way mirror between the front seat and the back. As in he can see behind him but I can’t see through it and no light can get through. It’s a weird way to travel, like I am someone überfamous in a limo, too snobby to interact with my driver.

“Come on, Dad,” I say, trying to jolly him out of the fear I see in his eyes. He has to get over the dread that has kept us from venturing out much for all these years. Especially now, when it really doesn’t matter how careful we are anymore. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? I could have a triggering event? Too late, I already did.”

His lips stay pressed together in a thin line. “Not funny.”

“Gallows humor,” I tell him with a shrug.

It’s so hard to get used to the new realities each day brings. I feel old and sorry for myself, like everything that made me me is quickly being stripped away. That before long I’ll be nothing but a shell of my former self. The day I realized I couldn’t play guitar anymore was the absolute worst. I cried harder than I have in my life, not only because music has always been my greatest source of pleasure and pride but because it’s also been my longstanding hope to leave my songs as my parting gift to this world. And now that can never happen.

Charlie is the only one who can make me forget how fast I’m going downhill. He somehow still makes me feel like the most beautiful, talented, normal, healthy girl in the world. He acts like he doesn’t even notice the stuff I can’t do anymore.

It’s when I’m alone that I find myself on the verge of a constant panic attack. I’m terrified about what might get taken from me next, not to mention what will happen once there’s nothing left to take. I don’t want to leave this planet. I’m not ready. I probably never will be.

Basically, everything that’s happening to me physically since that morning on the beach has been horrifying and terrifying and terrible. The only upside I can see is that at a certain point it at least stopped being surprising. So there’s that.

“Sometimes the only way to deal with the really bad stuff is to laugh at it,” I tell my dad. “Now let’s go watch Charlie get his scholarship to Berkeley back.”

“One, two, three, run!” my dad says, grabbing his keys.

I pull the strings of my hoodie as tight as they can go, until only the tiniest bit of my eyes are showing. Dad and I used to play this game to get me to the car for appointments when I was younger. I appreciate the nod to tradition today.

Naturally, the preparations for the ride took much longer than the ride itself. We’re at the Purdue High natatorium in less than ten minutes. Dad parks as close as possible to the building, and we make another dash inside.