Page 46 of When I'm Gone
He responded: “Sometimes you have to be your own guarantee.”
That’s when I realized that I already had my own plan. I’d been writing to you for months. I had two spiral notebooks full of thoughts, stories, and instructions. They’d been a safety net at first, a way to keep my fear of the cancer at bay. But now they are my final opus. I need you to take them seriously. I have so many things I need to tell you before I go. Things I’ve wanted to say for a long time. The only positive thing about dying is knowing I won’t have to see your face when you find out all the reasons you should hate me. Maybe that’s my final gift—when you find out all my secrets, you’ll be glad I’m gone.
I’m in the north lot, car parked, writing. I’m still not sure what I’m going to say to you tonight in real life. I’m half tempted to keep Dr. Saunders’s news a secret instead of making you all go through this again.
Love,
Natalie
Luke read the last paragraph three or four times, reading each word carefully, as though he could figure out her secrets in the spaces between her words. As he flipped back to the first page and started again, the flap on the mail slot clanked, and a single sheet of folded paper fluttered to the floor.
The paper wasn’t framed on one side in spiral notebook fringe. It wasn’t even in an envelope, not to mention that it was far too early for the postman to come. But after reading about Dr. Neal’s and Natalie’s ominous plans for some big reveal, he refused to sit back and wait.
Luke threw Natalie’s letter on the stairs, the pages exploding against the steps, and took two long lunges toward the front door. He yanked at the handle, forgetting it was locked. Flustered, he fumbled with the dead bolt and tried again. This time the door flew open, letting in a damp gush of summer air turning warm in the sunrise.
Without his contacts in, he couldn’t focus on the figure walking down the asphalt driveway, but he could make out a tall, slender woman in a formfitting yellow tank top and black shorts, wearing headphones connected to an armband wrapped around her bicep. She stopped at the street to fiddle with the device inside the band.
Luke rushed out of the house, his bare feet collecting dew as he ran through the grass. He grabbed the woman’s elbow and spun her around. Annie’s wide eyes and muffled scream made Luke drop his hand.
“What are you doing here?”
Annie yanked the earbuds out of her ears by the wires and placed a hand over her heart, her face flushed and framed with sweat. “Oh my God, Luke! You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“I’m so sorry. I saw the letter come through the mail slot and thought I might ...”
“Oh,” Annie interrupted, “you thought it was one of your Natalie letters.”
Luke shrugged, suddenly aware he must be a disheveled mess barefoot, wearing only his boxers and fitted undershirt. He ran a hand through his wild hair, self-conscious.
“I guess. I was being stupid. Wrong time, wrong color, wrong method of delivery. I overreacted.”
“Uh, so you didn’t read it then?” she asked, fumbling with the rubber earpiece on the end of her earbuds.
“No. I didn’t get a chance before running you down like a crazy person. Did I mention I was sorry?”
“Don’t apologize; that was my fault. That’s what the note was for,” Annie said, blushing. Luke started to disagree, but a pointed look kept him silent. “Maybe that was cowardly.”
“Cowardly?” Luke asked, a tightness hitting him between the shoulder blades. What could she tell him in a note she wouldn’t want to say face-to-face? “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. It was such an asshole thing to say. I can’t believe that came out of my mouth.” Luke scratched the stubble on his cheek, wishing Annie would look at him so he could decide if she was still mad or just embarrassed.
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t expect you to understand me and Brian.” She shook her head; a chunk of her clipped-back bangs fell into her eyes. “But we’re working on it. That’s all I have to say about that.” She swept a flat hand in a semicircle in front of her, like she was washing the memory away. Luke gritted his teeth and took a step closer to Annie, touching her on the elbow, gently this time.
“Hey, I won’t make you talk about it, but please”—he paused, trying not to get angry—“if you need me, you can call me, day or night. You don’t have to let someone hurt you.”
“That hasn’t happened in a long time. I swear. We are doing great.” Luke raised his eyebrows. He knew better; he’d seen the finger-shaped bruises on her arm just a few days ago. Annie ignored him. “I know you can’t understand. You and Natalie had the perfect marriage. Not everyone has that, Luke.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t assume my marriage was perfect. No one is perfect.”Not even Natalie.
“Well, not perfect, but still, you guys were happy and in love. It was so obvious. Last night, when I left here, I was mad. Really mad. I didn’t want to talk to you ever again, honestly. But then when I thought about how my life with Brian must look to someone used to such a happy life, I understood.”
Luke ground his teeth, trying to keep himself from reliving all the moments in his early life he thought of when he imagined Brian and Annie. It wasn’t his happy marriage that made him afraid for Natalie’s best friend; it was his unhappy childhood. But Annie didn’t know about any of that.
“Yeah, I thought Natalie and I were happy too.” He ran his hands through his hair, forgetting to care what it looked like. “I don’t even know if any of it was real anymore.”
“You don’t mean that.” Annie finally looked him in the eye, dropping her earbuds.
“It’s true. You can’t assume everything’s okay inside the house just because the paint isn’t peeling and the yard is neatly mowed.”
“What thehellare you talking about?” Annie asked, stomping her foot.
