Someday. David Levithan

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СКАЧАТЬ I know the comfort I would take from her. But I also know that after a certain point, after I took and took and took, she wouldn’t have any comfort left. Any promise I made to her would be worthless, no matter how much of my own worth I put into it. Any attention she gave me would be a distraction from the reality of her life, not a reality in itself.

      I can’t do that to her. I can’t string her along with hope. I will always change. I will always be impossible to love.

      It’s not like there’s anyone I can talk to about this. It’s not like I can pull aside Danielle’s best friend—Hy, short for Hyacinth—and say, I’m not myself today . . . and this is why. I can’t pull back the curtain, because in terms of Danielle’s life, I am the curtain, the thing that is getting in the way.

      I never used to wonder if I was the only one who lived like this. I never thought to look for others. I am just like you, Poole intimated. But I knew that even if he also moved from body to body, life to life, what he did within those bodies was not like what I chose to do. He wanted to draw me close, to tell me secrets. But I didn’t want to hear them, not if they led to dereliction and damage.

      That’s why I ran. To end things before I could ruin them.

      I’ve been running ever since. Not in a geographical sense—I have stayed near Denver for almost a month. But I am always seeing myself in relation to the place I’m getting away from, not in relation to anywhere I’m going toward.

      I am not going toward anything.

      I just live.

      After school, Danielle and her friends go downtown to shop. They’re not looking for anything in particular. It’s just something to do.

      I follow along. If I’m asked my opinion, I give it, but in as noncommittal a way as possible. I tell Hy I’m sleepy. She says we should go to City of Saints, the local coffee shop. I have no way to tell her that I don’t particularly want to wake up right now.

      When Rhiannon was in my life, everything was a rush. I think about driving to get coffee with her, driving to see her again, how scared I was that each day would be the last day she’d like me, and how excited I was when this didn’t prove to be true. I picture her kissing me hello, the welcome in her eyes.

      I hear the scream as a hand grabs on to my shoulder and violently pulls me back. I realize that the scream was Danielle’s name, and the hand belongs to Hy, and the truck I was about to step in front of is honking as it pushes past. Hy is saying “Oh my God” over and over and one of Danielle’s other friends is saying “That was close” and a third friend is saying “Wow, I guess you really do need that coffee”—making a joke that nobody’s finding funny. Danielle’s heart is now, after the fact, pounding with fear.

      “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I am so, so sorry.”

      Hy tells me it’s alright, because she thinks I’m apologizing to her. But I’m not. I’m apologizing to Danielle once again.

      I wasn’t paying attention.

      I must always pay attention.

      The other friends are calling Hy a hero. The light changes, and we cross the street. I’m still a little shaky. Hy puts her arm around me, tells me it’s okay. Everything’s fine.

      “I’m buying your coffee,” I tell her.

      She doesn’t argue with that.

      The rest of the day, I stay present.

      This is enough. Danielle’s friends and family don’t mind if she’s quiet, as long as they can feel she’s there. I listen to what they have to say. I try to store it away, and hope I’m storing it where Danielle will be able to find it. Hy thinks her crush on someone named France is getting out of control. Chaundra is inclined to agree. Holly is worried about her brother. Danielle’s mother is worried that her boss is on the way out. Danielle’s father is worried that the Broncos are going to screw up their season. Danielle’s sister is working on a project about lizards.

      These people think Danielle is here. They think she is the one who is listening. I used to get satisfaction from playing my part well, never letting anyone realize I was, in fact, an actor. It didn’t occur to me that I would ever let anyone see beneath the act, that there would ever be someone who saw me as a me. Nobody did. Nobody until Rhiannon. Nobody since Rhiannon.

      I am lost in here.

      I am lost, and I can’t ignore the most dangerous question of all:

      What if I want to be found?

A

       Day 6076

      I am woken one Saturday morning by a text:

       On my way. You better be up.

      I imagine that even when you sleep in the same bed night after night, in familiar sheets surrounded by familiar walls, there is still a profound dislocation at the moment of waking. You grasp first to figure out where you are, then reach for who you are. With me, this becomes confused. Where I am and who I am are essentially the same thing.

      This morning I am Marco. I use his muscle memory to unlock his phone even as I’m figuring out his name. I am typing Just getting up. How long til you’re here? before I can figure out who Manny, the person I’m texting, is.

       10 min. Didn’t you set your alarm? I told you to set your alarm!

      Marco did not set his alarm. I never sleep through alarms.

      Stop texting, I reply. Drive.

       Shut up. At a light. Be ready in 9.

      I try to wash away the mental fog in the shower, but I only get a partial clearing. Manny is Marco’s best friend. I can access memories of him from when he was tiny, so they must be lifelong friends. Today’s a big day for them—somehow I know it’s important to get up and get ready. But I’m not entirely sure why.

      It’s 9:04—not that early. I can’t tell whether there are other people in the house, still asleep, or whether I’m the only one around. I don’t have time to check—I can see Manny’s car pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t honk. He just waits.

      I wave through the window, find my wallet, and head out of my room, out the front door.

      Manny laughs when I get in the car.

      “What?” I ask.

      “I swear to God, if you didn’t have me as your alarm, you’d miss your entire life. You got the money?”

      Even though Marco’s wallet is in my pocket, I have a feeling the answer’s no. The mind is weird this way: Without knowing how much money is actually in the wallet, I know it’s not the amount Manny’s talking about.

      “Shit,” I say.

      Manny shakes his head. “I’m gonna start charging your parents for babysitting, you dumbass. Let’s try this СКАЧАТЬ