If You're Out There(55)
Or I will be.
I’ll miss you though.
Always.
Amanda’s beginning to break my heart. I bet you liked her, Mom.
Look for the silver lining
Whene’er a cloud appears in the blue.
Remember somewhere the sun is shining,
And so the right thing to do is make it shine for you.
I keep thinking about my three-day sleepover. With Yaz and Anushka. It’s not that I didn’t want you around, but we’d been hyping it up, and I’d been counting down the days. You were flying out to see Alice. She was going through a tough time, you said. It was reason enough for me. Ben was on a work trip. He flew so much we rarely asked where to.
The moment you said goodbye to me is fuzzy. I was reading on Yaz’s chair. I looked up for just a sec, just long enough for you to smack a kiss on my face and remind me to take my vitamins.
Yaz’s place in Harlem had a huge four-poster bed.
Anushka slept over too. She made biryani, and brought a lifetime supply of chick flicks and candy.
On Saturday we went skating at Rockefeller Center and we saw a man propose to his girlfriend in the middle of the ice. Anushka got teary-eyed, and Yaz said, “Pull it together, woman.” I thought it was hysterical.
Sunday I was reading in Yaz’s chair again when the two of them came and sat down on the rug in front of me. I remember losing my breath.
A heart full of joy and gladness
Will always banish sadness and strife.
So always look for the silver lining
And try to find the sunny side of life.
I’m trying, Mom. I swear.
(Principle #303: Somewhere, the sun is shining.)
Eight
Sunday, September 16
I’m not quite asleep when my phone goes off. It’s a text from Logan.
You get home alright?
I sit up in bed and text him back.
Yeah, I’m here. You okay?
I look at the time—2:30 a.m. exactly—and wonder if that might be some indication of the night he just had. When I last saw him, his mom had yet to leave the lobby, the glass still everywhere.
I pull back the blankets and slip into a pair of fuzzy socks from the floor before swigging from the water by my bed. The house is dead quiet, and worry bubbles up with each passing second. As of 2:38 he has not texted back. I can’t take it. And so I’m up. Energized. Cleaning.
I straighten the papers on my desk and stack books in neat piles. I scoop jewelry into boxes and tidy the contents of my wardrobe. Moving dirty clothes into baskets, my fingers graze something solid. My heart sinks and the productive mojo promptly dies. It’s the little lime-green notebook, buried in the pile.
I bring the book to bed with me and text Logan again.
Should I take that as a no?
But he doesn’t write back. I peer down at the cover and send the pages fluttering with my thumb.
#5
When Zan is sad, JUST ADD COOKIES!!
It’s actually very true. I wonder if we have any downstairs. I skip ahead to an old favorite.
#19
Life is like brie. It kinda stinks, but it’s also weirdly good.
It’s strange to think of Priya admitting life could ever stink. She was the one always telling me to be positive.
I’ve lost track of the origins for some of these, which does add an element of intrigue.
#36
They should have puppies at peace talks.
#87
We must band together to end egg salad on airplanes!
#267
One day, our kids will laugh at all the mustaches.
I leaf through the rest until I find the spot where the pages go blank. I notice the last entry and catch my breath. I didn’t write this one. In fact, I’ve never even seen it.
#300
We can never, EVER, give up on each other.
(K ZanaBanana? PS. I’m gonna miss you a buttload.)
I touch the grooves in the paper where her pen carved out the words, and for a moment Priya is exactly who she always was—the master of many tongues who still sometimes used words like buttload. Priya. The real Priya. My friend.
I jolt at the sound of my phone. Logan.
Sorry. I’m okay. It’s a long story.
I write him back.
I’ve got time.
The phone chirps again, and I smile down at the message.
In that case, wanna come outside? I’m kind of on your porch.
I slip on a sweatshirt and pad down to the darkened first floor. When I step outside, I find Logan sitting on the top porch step, his messy hair reflecting moonlight. “Hi,” I whisper, closing the door.
He straightens up when he sees me. “Sorry about earlier. After you left I realized I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I take the step below his and lean back against the railing. “I can take care of myself.” He nods, relaxing somewhat as I drink in the crisp, clean air. The fireflies are out tonight, their little green orbs appearing and vanishing without a sound. Priya and I loved fireflies when we were younger. I always wanted to catch them. She always made me let them go.
I reach out to nudge Logan with my foot. “I hope you didn’t come all this way in the middle of the night to say that.”
“Well, no.” He looks at me and I remind myself to breathe. “I guess I felt like if I saw you, I’d feel better.”