You Are Not Here Read online

  You Are Not Here

  SAMANTHA SCHUTZ

  FOR ADRIENNE GLASSER AND WIN ROSENFELD

  THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR STORIES,

  BUT EVEN MORE SO FOR BEING INCREDIBLY

  STRONG INDIVIDUALS AND A BRILLIANT COUPLE.

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  I walk down my block

  Part One

  If I do not sleep

  Morning light streams in my window

  This is how I found out

  Idiopathic hypertrophic subaortic stenosis

  I wonder

  Brian and I met

  Our first date

  At home, I can’t stop

  We had our first kiss

  I’ve never been to a funeral

  It’s getting late

  Brian is the only person

  After my shower

  Marissa is waiting for me

  Marissa and I

  Marissa slips her arm in mine

  Marissa only met Brian twice

  All eyes are on Brian

  I want to see Brian

  Marissa’s arm is linked with mine

  Throughout the service

  I put my head on Marissa’s shoulder

  The one time

  People are standing

  When Marissa and I walk out of the church

  When the priest is done

  There are ghosts in this house

  Marissa gets up to go to the bathroom

  Brian’s dad is sitting on the deck

  I want to get away from all these strangers

  I had been waiting

  Not including the day Brian died

  It bothers me that I can’t remember

  I can’t

  The last time Marissa and I talked

  Marissa comes back from the bathroom

  On the way upstairs to my bedroom

  Every day at Sacred Heart Hospital

  This time

  I wake up a little while later

  I look down at the postcard

  At home

  The last time I talked to Joy

  I’ve been trying to sleep for hours

  It doesn’t make sense

  “Hey. It’s Marissa

  I leave the house

  The second night after Brian’s funeral

  Part Two

  I had a dream last night

  It takes a lot of harassing texts

  IHSS is caused by abnormal growth

  It’s been six days

  I’m trying to decide what is worse

  On the seventh day

  The dirt on Brian’s grave is pretty uneven

  As I walk home I realize

  In bed, I cannot sleep

  I visit Brian again the next day

  After talking to Brian

  I have so much tension in my face

  Parker texts me

  A while ago

  The “death book”

  I finally dreamed of Brian

  I feel

  It’s 3:47 a.m. and I can’t sleep

  After sitting with Brian this afternoon

  I don’t

  It’s not always easy

  I’m not sure I understand the point

  I wonder if I can somehow

  Things feel different

  Sitting and talking to Brian

  Joy calls

  At 6:30 p.m., my mom comes downstairs

  The next week

  The death book wants me

  I wonder how it would look

  Marissa stops by unannounced

  I wear my favorite sundress

  In bed, I cannot sleep

  There is a pain

  The death book taught me

  Sitting with Brian is too quiet

  “You can’t just lie here all day”

  I am thankful that Brian

  I’m telling Brian

  I have cornflakes

  What would it be like if I had died

  I walk down my block

  I had a dream

  Sitting on the bench

  The death book wants me

  Fireflies blink

  All this thinking about death

  As I am walking past the church

  I don’t have to wait

  In bed, I cannot sleep

  Lewis Armin

  The death book wants me

  I’m getting sick

  At home I am as furious

  Part Three

  I walk through the door at Renzo’s

  The next morning

  On the way to Renzo’s

  Pizza Boy is behind the counter again

  “So I went to Renzo’s”

  Ethan is behind the counter

  The answer to the question

  I am sweeping

  I sit with Brian and tell him about work

  I’m wiping down table six

  Seeing Marissa’s shock

  Joy texts back immediately

  On the way to work

  I dream

  “Who’s that guy?” Joy asks

  “I wonder

  The death book wants me

  Here we go again

  Somewhere in between

  “Whoa. Look at you”

  I am too tired

  Sometimes I catch myself

  The death book wants me

  Ethan and I are last to leave work

  “So that was Ethan

  I don’t know why

  Was Peter telling me about Sarah

  I shut my eyes

  At work the next day I say

  In bed, I cannot sleep

  It’s hard not to speak to someone

  Before, I didn’t have anything to say

  I decide to call

  Marissa and I agree

  The movie is perfect

  As a kid, there were a few times

  As we are paying the check

  Instead of going home

  “Back so soon?” Brian’s grandmother asks

  I cannot control

  I slide a napkin across the counter

  The death book wants me

  “Do you want it to be more?”

  Sitting next to Ethan

  There is this one page in the death book

  Ethan and I both have the afternoon off

  My body buzzes

  At the party, I find Ethan

  After hanging out for a little while

  The death book wants me

  It feels a little ridiculous

  I had to be ready

  I need to remind myself

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Titles Available From PUSH

  Copyright

  I walk down my block

  and then take a right turn.

  Two more blocks

  and I’ll be with Brian.

  For the first time

  in a long time,

  I know he’ll be there

  waiting for me.

  I sit down on the grass next to him.

  He has flowers,

  but I know they’re not for me.

  I wonder who gave them to him,

  but I don’t ask.

  I tell Brian about my day.

  I say, “I saw your dad

  at the supermarket.

  I didn’t talk to him—

  it’s not like he knows who I am,

  and even if he did,

  I wouldn’t know what to say.

  I watched him

  take things off the shelves,

  look them over,

  and then put them back.

  There was almost nothing

  in his cart.


  I wonder if he’s always been like that,

  or just lately.”

  I say, “I miss you.”

  I ask if he’s missed me too,

  then wait for his answer.

  If that squirrel runs up that tree,

  then his answer is yes.

  If it stays on the grass,

  his answer is no.

  The squirrel doesn’t move,

  and my breath catches in my throat.

  After a moment,

  it zips up the tree.

  I smile and lie down

  next to Brian.

  I wish he could hold me

  like he used to,

  but he doesn’t.

  The warm sun makes me drowsy

  and I fall asleep on my side

  next to Brian.

  When I wake up, grass is imprinted

  on my arm and leg.

  I brush myself off,

  but Brian doesn’t move.

  I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I reach out to touch him,

  and my fingers make contact

  with words:

  BRIAN DENNIS

  DIED AGE SEVENTEEN

  BELOVED SON AND FRIEND

  Part One

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  I need this night

  to last forever.

  I need it to go on

  because once I fall asleep,

  it will be tomorrow.

  It will be the day

  of Brian’s funeral.

  And I can’t do that.

  I can’t see that.

  I can’t feel that.

  My eyes are burning.

  They want to seal shut.

  They want a break from crying.

  My body is sore from tensing,

  and it wants release.

  It wants the softness of sleep,

  but I cannot give it that.

  I cannot

  let that happen.

  I cannot

  go from today to tomorrow.

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  If I do not sleep,

  it will not come.

  I repeat these nine words

  like a mantra.

  I try to hold on to them

  like worry beads,

  like a rosary,

  but instead of keeping me focused

  they are lulling

  me to sleep.

  If I do not

  sleep it will

  not come if I

  do not sleep

  it will not

  come if I do

  not sleep it

  will not come if

  I do not

  sleep

  it

  will

  not

  come.

  Morning light streams in my window.

  The air in here is stale.

  I need to get out.

  Marissa will be here in an hour,

  but I can’t wait that long.

  On my way out of the house,

  I pass my mother’s bedroom.

  Her door is open.

  Her bed is perfectly made,

  unslept in.

  Outside, the late June air

  is heavy and hot,

  but it’s better than in my room.

  I’m not sure where I’m going,

  but when my flip-flops hit the sidewalk,

  I know.

  I walk down the street

  and take a right turn.

  I go two more blocks

  and find myself at the cemetery.

  It doesn’t take long before I hear it—

  the sound of dirt and rock

  sliding against metal shovels.

  There are men digging Brian’s grave.

  They are digging a hole

  in the cool earth, on a hot day

  for the boy who has occupied

  my thoughts and my heart

  for the last three months,

  for the boy I lost

  my virginity to,

  for the boy I think I loved.

  I’ve heard these guys dig before.

  I’ve heard these guys talking,

  but today I want to scream

  them into silence.

  I want to tell them

  to have some respect

  and not talk

  about everyday things,

  like how hot it is

  or how much more

  they have to dig.

  This

  is not

  every day.

  This is how I found out:

  I was watching a special about the pyramids

  when my cell phone vibrated angrily

  against my dresser.

  I looked at the phone and was surprised

  to see Marissa’s name.

  I flipped open my phone

  and cautiously said,

  “Hey…what’s up?”

  “I have to tell you something.

  It’s about Brian,” Marissa answered.

  There was something

  about how she said it

  that made me think

  she was finally going to apologize

  and say she had been wrong about him.

  But instead she said,

  “Something happened today

  while Brian was playing basketball.”

  An injury, I figured;

  he had a broken leg or something.

  But what was with all the drama?

  And why was she

  calling to tell me?

  We hadn’t talked in weeks.

  Marissa said, “No one knows

  exactly what happened yet.

  But he died, Annaleah.

  I am so sorry.

  I hate that I am the one

  telling you this.

  Especially after…”

  I stopped listening.

  My whole body was shuddering.

  Uncontrollable.

  “What?” I said.

  It was the only thing

  I could say.

  “My dad was walking the dog

  by the playground

  and saw an ambulance.

  He asked who was hurt

  and they told him it was a teenager

  named Brian Dennis,

  and that he had suddenly died.

  My dad came home and asked me

  if I knew who Brian was.”

  “What?” I said again.

  “He collapsed on the court.

  The paramedics said

  he died on the spot.

  There was nothing

  they could do.”

  Not possible, I thought.

  Brian was healthy.

  Seventeen.

  Just finished his junior year.

  How could he be playing

  basketball one minute

  and then be dead the next?

  How could there be no in-between?

  No treatment.

  No drugs.

  No surgery.

  No hope.

  No nothing.

  Not possible.

  “Annaleah, are you still there?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I couldn’t even make real words.

  I thought, I need to call someone.

  I need more information.

  But who could I call?

  Brian and I didn’t have

  the same friends.

  I could call Joy or Parker,

  to tell them what happened,

  but they didn’t know Brian

  other than from my stories.

  I could call my mom, but I never

  told her Brian and I

 
were together.

  I could call Brian’s house

  to see if his parents knew more,

  but I bet the last thing they’d want