After Forever Page 5

I still couldn't sleep, so I put in my earbuds and turned my iPod to shuffle, lay down in the darkness, and listened to "Broken Crowns" by Portland Cello Project.

  Finally, I felt my eyes grow heavy, focused on that feeling, on the slow floating away, falling under. Still, sleep was long in coming. And my dreams were fraught with strange, disorienting, painful images. Amber eyes, watching me and trying not to, the way mine were drawn to his and to him, in a way I hated and couldn't quite control. Dreams of Ever asleep, not asleep but in a coma, watching me from behind the veil of the spirit world. She watched me, watched Cade hold me as I cried, and I couldn't fathom her expression, couldn't quite see her; she was a silvery translucent ghost whose presence I could only feel as I cried, as I felt the comfort of Cade's arm around me.

  Was it disapproval I felt from spirit-her?

  How could it not be? Spirit-me resolved to be stronger, to keep my tears for my pillow, for the silence of my lonely bedroom.

  percentage of miracles

  Caden

  I was covered in sweat, shaking from exhaustion. Everything hurt. Physical therapy was fucking brutal.

  I'd withdrawn from school. I couldn't draw, couldn't write, couldn't focus; there was simply no point to going. I had enough money still left over from my father's life insurance that I could function for a while. I stayed home, read, watched TV and movies, and felt sorry for myself. Eden would come over every day after her last class and we'd go to the hospital together to visit Ever. We'd sit and talk, to each other, to Ever. I'd hobble out into the corridor, try to connect to the shitty hospital WiFi and browse the Internet, idly flipping through the day's galleries on The Chive or reading articles on Cracked, anything to get away from Eden and to give her time alone with Ever, to talk to her sister.

  I felt Ever slipping away. I found myself less and less able to keep up the one-sided chatter that Eden seemed to produce so effortlessly.

  Maybe it was I who was slipping away. I was retreating, I knew, back into the numb place I'd lived after Mom died, and even more so after Dad had. I was there again, and it was the only way I'd survive. I couldn't bear to miss Ever. It was too deep a cut through my heart. Talking to her made me miss her. She was there, breathing, heart beating, but she wasn't there. She wasn't listening. I wasn't sure if I believed she heard me or not.

  I was slipping away.

  Eden forced me into the present, into feeling. She made me feel strange things. I missed Ever when I looked at Eden, but I also saw Eden for herself, and I saw her as a friend, as a companion in misery, in missing Ever. I didn't see her as a sister, or as a family member. She was just Eden, and she looked so, so much like Ever, too much, and it hurt, but she also looked different enough to confuse me, to hit me where I couldn't fight it.

  So I took every opportunity, whenever we were forced to be in the same room, to do anything but look at her, to be anywhere but close enough to touch her, even accidentally. I'd hold my pee for hours rather than let her help me stand up, and I'd make sure to not see her grief so I didn't have to touch her to comfort her.

  It was tense and awkward.

  Physically, I was a mess as well. I'd had rods and screws put in my leg, which meant being in a cast for three months. It was a long three months. I'd always been active, and to be a couch potato for that long was hellish. I grew dependent on fast food on the way home from the hospital, cafeteria food, easy-to-microwave meals. Unhealthy food.

  I grew dependent on Eden. She drove me everywhere I needed to go, to the hospital and home, shopping. She was the only person who visited me, and the only person I talked to. Nick Eliot had dropped out of the picture again, as far as I could tell. He'd visited Ever a few times, I'd seen him when I was there, but I had no idea if he'd made any attempt to get closer to Eden as a result of all this.

  Now out of the cast, I was in physical therapy several times a week, which Eden drove me to as well. She encouraged me when I wanted to quit, which was all the time. Never complained at my snappy attitude and ingratitude.

  She'd infiltrated every aspect of my life, and I was confused by it, scared of it. I took to silence as a coping mechanism, responding only when spoken to, keeping my distance and my own counsel.

  At the moment, I was sitting in her car, a two-year-old VW Passat. I was sweaty, stinking, hungry, and irritated. My thoughts were raging out of control, haywire. I thought of Ever, missing her, hating missing her, hating feeling like she was slipping away from me. I hated being so dependent on Eden, hated that I had to see her every day and fight how much she reminded me of Ever and yet how clearly she was her own person, so distinct and so unique that I couldn't deny having noticed it, having seen it every day for so many weeks.

  Finally, as she parked the car in the guest spot of my condo complex, she sighed deeply and shut off the music, turned to face me. "You're not doing well," she said. "Emotionally, I mean." I shrugged, kept my gaze directed out the window. She grabbed my arm and turned me. "Damn it, Cade, talk to me."

  "Why?" I snarled. "Say what? How am I supposed to be doing?"

  "Well, tell me what's--god, I mean, I know what's wrong." She rubbed at her face. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me."

  "Maybe there is no way to help me. I miss her, Eden. I--she's slipping away from me. I don't remember the sound of her voice. I don't--I don't remember anything. I can't--I can't feel her anymore."

  Eden was silent. There wasn't anything to say.

  "She'll come back." It wasn't even a whisper from Eden. "She has to."

  "What if--what if she doesn't?"

  "Don't say that!" Eden yelled, her voice an angry shriek. "She will! You have to believe. You have to try, Cade! You have to talk to her. You have to--to remind her what's here."

  I heard those last words for hours after she left. Remind her what's here.

  The next day, when Eden picked me up, I had a shoebox under my arm. Blue, with a red and white Union Jack. A Reeboks box. It was heavy, stuffed full. Eden glanced at it but didn't ask what was in it. Maybe she knew. She took it from me so I could crutch my way to the car. My right arm was healing enough to let me use crutches, but that was about it. My fine motor skills were basically nil, enough to let me open and close my hand, but not enough to hold a pencil yet.

  At the hospital, Eden sat in the corner, and I didn't ask her to leave when I opened the top of the shoebox, revealing dozens and dozens of letters, sheaves of them bound together by rubber bands, a month's worth of envelopes together in each rubber band. I pulled out the bundle at the back of the box, set the box down, and unwound the rubber band. I found the first letter Ever had sent me. Her handwriting...god, it was so huge and loopy and girly.

  I pulled the letter out, cleared my throat. "'Dear Caden,'" I read. "'How are you? I'm excited to be your pen pal. I've never had a pen pal before. I don't think I've written a letter to anyone before, actually. Not unless you count letters to Santa when I was in kindergarten. What should we write to each other about? Would you be interested if I told you about the painting I'm doing?'" I stopped, blinked hard. I could hear her voice. I heard a sniffle and knew Eden did, too.

  I read the whole letter. The next one. And then I came to the letter in which she first referenced Eden. I stopped, lowered the letter, and made myself look at Eden. "I, um--she talks about you. In a lot of these letters. It might be--I don't know. It might be weird. It's--"

  "Is she, like, making fun of me?" Eden asked.

  I shrugged. "No. Not making fun of you, but it's just--"

  "Private," Eden cut in. "I get it. Not meant for me to hear. I'll go get some coffee."

  "It's not that I mind--"

  She waved at me in negation. "I said I get it, Cade. Hearing what someone thinks about you when they know you're not listening, or whatever, it's not fun. I'd rather not know."

  "She loved you," I said. "She wanted you to be happy. That's all she ever wanted."

  I wondered if she noticed we were both referring to Ever in the past tense.
/>   Eden squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. "I know that. I know. She's my twin. She's half of me. I know what it was about me that made her so mad. I'm fat. I hate the way I look. I hate that everything I eat goes to my ass. I hate that she could eat a whole cheesecake and not gain any weight, but if I even smell it, my ass gets bigger. She hated that I couldn't just be content with the way I look." She wasn't talking to me anymore, not really. "She hated that I was always comparing myself to her. I always have. I always will. She was--fuck, she is more beautiful than I am. And I hate that." She turned away from me, fists clenched, taking deep, harsh breaths.

  "Eden, Jesus. You're not fat. You're...you and Ever, you're different people. Same basic genetic makeup or whatever, yeah, but still different. You can't--"

  "Oh, shut the fuck up, Cade! What do you know about it?" She whirled on me. "You don't know me! She and I are ninety-nine-point-ninety-nine percent the same exact FUCKING person! But that one measly goddamn percent? It means I get fat and she didn't. It means I spend two hours at the gym every day just so I don't go all lard-ass, and she could work out once a week and eat whatever she wants and be skinny and beautiful and perfect."

  "Eden, god, what--what can I--"

  "NOTHING! You can't do anything. You can't say anything. It's how it is. I've been going to therapists for years about this, and you think in one conversation that you can just--just fix me?"

  I closed my eyes and tried to think. "How did we get here? Why are we fighting? I just--"

  She seemed to deflate. "I'm sorry, Cade. Shit. I'm sorry I blew up. You didn't deserve it. I can be a bitch sometimes--don't mind me. Just--don't read those letters around me, okay? They're private. Between you and her. They don't involve me." She left then, walking away, looking sadder than I'd ever seen.

  "Eden, listen--"

  "I'm fine, Cade." She paused, turned back to smile at me, a small, defeated smile. "I'm always fine. Don't worry about me. Just read to her. If anything can bring her back, those letters can." She was gone then, closing the door behind herself.

  I stared at the door, at the place where she'd been just moments ago. That girl had some serious self-esteem issues, things that went bone-deep, soul-deep. I sensed that she really believed, in her heart of hearts, that she was actually fat.

  How could she not see that she was beautiful? Had no one ever told her that? Had no one ever taken the time to make her feel beautiful? I knew I couldn't do that for her. Not the way she needed. But someone should. She didn't deserve to feel that way about herself, not as gorgeous as she was, not as talented and kind and unfailingly generous as she was.

  The craziest part was, unless you really knew that about Eden, you'd never guess how deep those insecurities went.

  I read on, stuffing one letter back in its envelope and pulling out another. "'Caden, or, I suppose I might actually address the letters 'Dear Caden' since you are dear. To me, I mean. Is that weird? Maybe it is. 'Dear' means, according to Google, 'regarded with deep affection; cherished by someone.' I hope that's not too weird for you, but I feel like you and I have a special connection. Do think so, too?'" I stopped, choking on the next part. "'I'm so, so sorry about your mom getting sicker.'" I couldn't keep reading. Being there in the hospital, it brought all that back. Days and days spent just like this, sitting next to Mom's bed, watching her die slowly. Except with Ever it was both better and worse. Better in that she wasn't getting actively sicker, but worse in that she wasn't healing and might never.

  I swallowed hard, blinked away the tears, and continued. "'I can't imagine going through that. When I lost my mom to the car accident, it was the most horrible thing I've ever experienced. One minute she was there, alive and fine, and then the next Daddy was telling me she was dead...'" I made myself finish the letter, and the next one. When Eden came back, I tucked the letter I'd just finished back in its envelope, sniffing it for the faint scent still clinging to it.

  Eden took a deep breath. "Cade, listen, I'm really, really--"

  "Don't, Eden. Don't apologize. There's nothing to forgive. I know I have no idea what you've been through, how you feel. Any of that. And I probably never will. And I certainly know there's probably nothing I could ever do or say to fix you, and it's not even my job. But...just know that--as your friend, I mean--your insecurities are...misplaced." God, that was the most cowardly way to try to say that. I had to do better. Eden had done too much to help me to deserve less. "You're beautiful, Eden. You really are. You're perfect the way you are. I know that coming from me that may be weird, or it may not mean much, but you should know that. About yourself. Because it's true."

  Eden tipped her head back and sniffed, then shook her head and laughed bitterly. "Thanks, Cade."

  I tilted my head, confused by her reaction. "Did I just make it worse or something?"

  She shook her head, seeming resigned now. "No. It's just...the first guy to ever tell me that without having an ulterior motive, and it has to be you. For real, thank you. That's very sweet of you, Cade."

  "I'm sorry I'm not--"

  She cut me off. "No, it's not you. It's...well, it is, kind of. But it's not your fault. You belong to Ever, that's all." She shrugged. "It's not that no one ever tells me they think I'm hot or whatever, it's just...when they do, it's because they want in my pants. So it doesn't count. Not really."

  "Eden, just because they--"

  She kept going, talking over me. "And you know the worst part? It usually works. 'Cause I'm just that easy and that desperate."

  "Eden, you're not--"

  "Not to be mean, Cade, but you don't know me." She moved to stand on the other side of Ever's bed, staring down at her sister. "She's the good one, the pure one. One boyfriend, and then you. And you, she fucking married. Me? If you only knew..." She shook her head, trailing off, then laughed, another bitter exhalation. "Why am I telling you all this? Jesus. Like you need to know how much of a fucking mess I am? God, I'm such an idiot. Forget I said anything. Forget I'm here. Just...give me a few minutes with Ev, and then we can go."

  I hesitated, wanting to say something, to reassure her somehow, but she was right. I didn't know her. Not at all. For all that she'd been there for me, driven me places and kept me company, until recently all of our conversations had been light, aimless small talk as we drove or ate a quick lunch. I knew nothing about her, not really. I didn't know how she spent her time when she wasn't with me at the hospital. I mean, I knew she had sixteen credit hours plus cello mentoring or whatever it was called, practicing. But did she have a boyfriend? I'd always assumed no, but the way she talked about herself, it made her seem...I wasn't even sure what the word was. Loose? But she was so self-deprecating that I thought maybe she was exaggerating, the way she exaggerated about her weight.

  Finally I simply left, hobbling out into the corridor and to the waiting room. Eden spent half an hour with Ever, and then she swept into the waiting room, stood beside me while I struggled to my feet. She never helped me unless I asked her to, and always had this way of walking slowly with me as if it was perfectly natural to walk that slowly, as if she strolled at a crutch-bound hobbling pace all the time.

  The ride in the elevator, the walk to the car, the drive home, it was silent. At one point, I glanced at her, wanting to say something, but she just happened to switch the channel on her radio, find a song she liked, and turn up the volume. I took the cue and kept silent. When we got to my condo, I opened the door, but paused with my feet on the ground and my body inside the car.

  "Eden, I--"

  "Cade, please don't. I'm not your problem. I'm fine. For real. I get these downward swings every once in a while, but I always pull out of them. I like who I am, for the most part. And like I said, I'm not your problem. You need to focus on getting better, and on Ever."

  "But I just--"

  She stabbed the radio off with an angry punch of her finger. "I'm fine." She swung her head to look at me, hair swaying, green eyes daring me to say anything else. I didn't.

 
; I levered myself out of the car, then balanced on one crutch and bent down to look at her. "Just know...I'm here, if you need to talk."

  "I'll keep that in mind," she said. "Thanks. See you tomorrow."

  Eden

  Just shy of five months since the accident, and Cade was able to walk with only one crutch, and had almost full use of his right hand. He still had trouble with drawing, which I gathered was excruciatingly hard for him. If I couldn't play the cello for five or six months...I'd go nuts.

  I'd learned to keep my damn mouth shut around Cade, finally. No more embarrassing explosions, no more blurting out my deepest fears and insecurities to the one single person on the planet who couldn't really do a damn thing about them. We visited Ever, took turns with her. He read the letters she wrote him, and then found that she'd kept his to her in a similar box, hidden in the back of their closet, and he read those, too. I never listened. I was too much of a coward to face that. He loved her, and he always would. He didn't need to see how jealous I was of their love, of Eden for having him, for having love like his.

  Then, one sunny but cool spring afternoon, Cade and I were sitting in Ever's room, both of us having had time alone with her. We were about to leave when a doctor came into the room. Ever had nurses come in while we were there, check on things, maybe move her a little, change a bag of liquid. But never a doctor. He was tall, thin, gray-haired and ramrod straight. He grabbed the rolling stool and sat facing us.

  "I'm Dr. Overton, with the neurosurgery department. We've been monitoring Ms. Monroe for some months now, and we--the team assigned to her case--have decided it's probably best for her to be moved to a long-term care facility." He said this calmly, easily, smoothly.

  Cade didn't respond right away, and when he did, his voice was much too even, much too careful. "So basically...you're giving up on her?"

  Dr. Overton didn't even blink. "No, son--"

  "I'm not your son."

  "Sorry, Mr. Monroe. But no, we're not giving up. But...she's been in a coma for almost five months now. Her brain activity hasn't altered in all that time. Essentially, she's showing no signs of changing, and a long-term care facility can provide the best quality of life for her. I believe this eventuality was discussed with you some months ago, Mr. Monroe."