You Are Not Here Read online

  my arms and legs are sore

  and I have a major headache.

  I just want to go home

  and wash my face

  and get into bed.

  I sleep

  heavy,

  hot,

  and dreamless.

  Sometimes I catch myself

  starting to feel a little bit happy,

  starting to look forward to things

  like going back to school in a few weeks.

  But then I am struck

  with fear.

  What if I get into a car accident

  and get seriously hurt?

  What if I die?

  What if something terrible

  happens to my mom

  or one of my friends?

  These thoughts creep

  up on me.

  The death book says

  that when my thoughts race,

  I should try to stay present.

  To be where my feet are.

  But I don’t want

  to be

  where my feet are.

  They still feel

  for fault lines.

  The death book wants me

  to consider getting back to my routine—

  to find myself again.

  It wants to know if I am ready

  to move on,

  to try to get back to normal.

  But I don’t know

  what normal is.

  Jewish people

  are meant to return to their routines

  after seven days of mourning.

  Muslims get three days

  (longer, if a wife is mourning her husband),

  and Hindus get thirteen days

  after the deceased is cremated.

  None of these

  seem like enough time.

  Ethan and I are last to leave work.

  Even though I tell him I want to go home,

  he insists that we go to the local carnival.

  It comes every year at this time.

  It’s nothing fancy.

  Skee-Ball, ring toss,

  and a few mildly scary rides.

  Before we walk over to the carnival,

  Ethan changes out of his uniform

  and into jeans and a rugby-type shirt.

  This might be the first time

  I’ve seen him in normal clothes.

  At the carnival,

  Ethan buys a roll of tickets

  before I can even protest.

  “Let’s go on the Gravitron first,”

  he says, pulling me

  toward what looks like a spaceship.

  Ethan hands the guy

  enough tickets for the two of us,

  and we go inside.

  Cheesy techno music is blasting

  as everyone finds a spot

  and leans against the red-padded walls.

  Once the ride is somewhat full,

  the entrance doors dramatically clang shut.

  The ride starts off spinning slowly.

  But the longer and faster we spin,

  the more we stick to the mats.

  Everyone is laughing and screaming

  because they can’t

  pick up their arms, legs, and head.

  Based on the ride’s name,

  I suppose gravity’s at work.

  Maybe if I’d paid more attention

  in science class

  I’d know what was happening.

  Ethan looks really happy.

  He’s laughing a deep belly laugh.

  But all I can think is:

  This feeling is familiar.

  Feeling stuck.

  Frozen.

  I wonder

  if I started crying,

  would the tears freeze on my cheeks?

  Or would they roll down,

  defying gravity?

  Thankfully, it’s not long

  before the ride slows

  and I can pull myself

  off the mat again.

  When we step outside,

  I’m a little dizzy.

  Ethan sees that the ride hasn’t affected me

  the same way that it has him.

  He’s still smiling.

  I must look green.

  “Should we try something

  where our feet stay on the ground?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say

  even though I’d rather go home

  or sit and talk to Brian.

  But he’s just too excited,

  and I can’t say no.

  “Come on. I see Skee-Ball,” he says.

  I reluctantly follow behind him.

  He’s like a kid let loose in a toy store.

  “You know, I’m pretty amazing at this.”

  “Really? I suck.

  How about I just watch.

  Maybe I’ll even cheer.”

  “Okay. Prepare to have your mind blown.”

  He sinks the ball into the forty pocket

  over and over again.

  Tickets are coming out of the side

  of the machine like crazy.

  I can’t help but cheer.

  “You’re a Skee-Ball genius!

  How’d you do that?”

  “Raw talent, Annaleah,”

  he says as he grabs all the tickets

  and ushers me in the direction

  of the prize counter.

  “Your pick, cheerleader.”

  “Me? But you did all the work.”

  “It’s okay. Giant Hello Kitties

  aren’t really my thing.”

  “All right, then. That one.”

  I point to a unicorn with a sparkly horn.

  When the ticket guy gives me my prize,

  I hug it tightly to my chest.

  As Ethan walks me home,

  I wonder,

  Does he think this was a date?

  It sort of feels like a date—

  especially that last part

  with the unicorn.

  But he hasn’t tried to kiss me

  or hold my hand,

  so maybe it isn’t.

  Just as I am wondering

  if I even want it to be a date,

  I see the edge of the cemetery.

  I feel like I should duck behind a tree

  so Brian doesn’t see me.

  It’s like walking past the cemetery

  with Ethan is cheating—

  like I am doing something wrong.

  Even though nothing has happened.

  Ethan turns to me and says,

  “I’m glad we finally hung out

  somewhere that’s not Renzo’s.”

  But that’s when he sees

  that my eyes are full of tears.

  “Oh, God, was tonight that bad?” he asks.

  “No, no, it’s not that.

  It’s just that,

  there was this guy.

  We were sort of together

  and then…”

  “It’s okay. I get it.”

  But there’s no way he does.

  We walk the last block to my house

  in silence.

  Ethan takes me to my door and says,

  “See you at work tomorrow.”

  Then we hug awkwardly

  with the unicorn smushed between us.

  I go inside, but not upstairs.

  I wait by the door for a minute,

  then look out the window.

  When Ethan’s out of sight,

  I slip back out the door.

  I owe Brian an explanation.

  “So that was Ethan.

  He’s the guy I told you about

  from the pizza place.

  This is the first time we’ve hung out

  besides at work.

  I shouldn’t have to explain,

  but I feel like I do.

  Like you think

  I was cheating on you.

  I know that’s crazy,

/>   but that’s how—”

  The sound of footsteps

  startles me into silence.

  I turn and see a guy’s silhouette

  making its way toward me.

  Even though the air is warm,

  my body goes completely cold.

  As the person strides closer,

  the details of a face

  come into view—

  it’s Peter.

  Brian’s closest friend.

  I saw him speak at the funeral,

  but we’ve never officially met.

  “I thought I was the only one

  who came at night,”

  he says.

  For the second time tonight

  I feel as if I have been caught

  doing something I shouldn’t.

  He sits down next to me and asks,

  “How did you know Brian?”

  I hope that what I am about to say

  will be familiar to him.

  That Brian talked about me.

  That I meant more to him

  than he let on.

  “We were

  kind of, sort of

  seeing each other.”

  “Oh. You’re Sarah?”

  His question wrecks me.

  Wrecks all of the stories

  I have told myself.

  I didn’t think it was possible

  for words to hurt this much.

  “No.

  I’m Annaleah.”

  Peter sucks in air

  through his teeth,

  then lets it out really slowly.

  “Oh, God.

  I’m so sorry.

  I didn’t know you

  and Brian were…”

  But I’m already getting up.

  “I should let you

  be alone with Brian.”

  I don’t know why

  I’m surprised.

  I shouldn’t be.

  I know Brian and I weren’t

  boyfriend and girlfriend.

  I know that he was terrible

  about calling me back

  and making plans.

  I knew he had a life

  when he wasn’t with me.

  But all that dissolved

  when we were together.

  I wonder

  who Sarah is.

  I wonder

  if she was at the funeral.

  I wonder

  if she’s the blond Marissa saw.

  I wonder

  what Brian liked about her.

  Is she prettier than me?

  Funnier, smarter, sexier?

  I get a flash

  of Brian having sex with her,

  and it is awful.

  I can’t be sure that they even had sex,

  but it’s definitely a possibility.

  I feel like I am going to puke.

  Was Peter telling me about Sarah

  a sign from Brian?

  If so, it was cruel.

  He didn’t need to do that.

  He’s already gone.

  He didn’t have to make it hurt more.

  Or maybe it was the universe telling me?

  Maybe it thought that this would help me

  get over Brian.

  Or was it just chance

  that Peter and I were at the cemetery

  at the same time?

  Absolutely nothing otherworldly at work.

  No greater purpose.

  No sign.

  Nothing.

  I shut my eyes

  and see a pocket of darkness.

  I want to fold myself

  flat and crisp,

  slip inside of it

  like a sheet of paper

  into an envelope.

  At work the next day I say,

  “Ethan, I should explain

  about last night.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yeah, I do.

  You see,

  I was sort of seeing this guy

  and he died of this freak heart thing.

  It only happened two months ago,

  and I’m still trying

  to figure everything out.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean

  you know?”

  “I know about Brian.”

  I am so confused by hearing Ethan

  say Brian’s name

  that anger

  doesn’t set in right away.

  “I don’t understand.

  How do you know

  about Brian?”

  “I heard your girlfriends talking about it

  while you were in the back.

  And then I remembered

  reading about his death in the paper.”

  He must be talking about

  when Marissa and Jessica were here.

  “You’ve known basically since I started

  and didn’t tell me?”

  “I figured you’d bring it up

  when you were ready.

  I don’t understand, Annaleah.

  I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “You know, I knew

  there was a reason

  you were being so nice to me,”

  I say, backing away from him.

  “What?

  It’s nothing like that.

  I like you.

  You’re interesting.”

  “Interesting…right.

  Like a sociology experiment?

  Did you want to study

  a real, live, grieving girl?”

  “Annaleah—”

  “I better check on my tables.”

  “Annaleah, wait.”

  But I don’t.

  In bed, I cannot sleep.

  I think about my dad

  calling on my last birthday.

  When I pick up the phone,

  he doesn’t say hello.

  He just starts singing in a goofy voice.

  When he’s done he asks,

  “So, do you know

  what your birthday wish

  is going to be?”

  He asks me the same thing every year.

  “No. I haven’t decided yet.”

  I roll over and look at my alarm clock.

  “Dad, it’s really really early.”

  “I know.

  I just wanted to be the first person

  you talked to today.”

  “You’re definitely the first.”

  “Okay, baby.

  Go back to bed.”

  “Thanks, Dad.

  Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  When I hang up the phone,

  I pull the covers over my head,

  block out the early morning light,

  wrap my arms around my pillow,

  and sleep

  sleep

  sleep.

  It’s hard not to speak to someone

  when speaking to them is part of your job.

  For the next few days,

  I only speak to Ethan about pizza.

  I refuse to acknowledge him

  in any other way.

  Instead of chatting with him

  when it’s slow,

  I make napkin wraps.

  I fill salt and pepper shakers.

  I wipe down already clean tables.

  I sit in a booth

  and count the tiles on the wall.

  Any of these things is better

  than talking to Ethan.

  Before, I didn’t have anything to say.

  Nothing was happening.

  There was only death.

  There was only Brian.

  I finally have something to say.

  I call Parker.

  I tell him about Sarah.

  I tell him about Ethan

  knowing about Brian.

  “All that in twenty-four hours, Lee?

  Sounds intense.”

  “Yeah.”

&n
bsp; “I have two theories.

  Wanna hear them?”

  “I don’t know.

  Do I?”

  “I’m gonna tell you anyway.

  One: It’s heinous

  that Brian was seeing someone else.

  But you’ve got to keep it in perspective—

  you weren’t officially together.”

  “Thanks for the news flash.

  What’s two?”

  “I think you overreacted

  when Ethan told you he knew about Brian.”

  “But he lied,” I snap.

  “He didn’t lie, Lee.

  He respected your feelings.

  Apparently, there are still guys

  who do that.”

  “But I feel

  like he had ulterior motives.”

  “To do what? Become your friend?

  Take you to a carnival? Have fun?

  How shocking!

  Someone should arrest him

  before he befriends someone else!”

  “Not funny, Parker.

  I don’t want to be someone’s friend

  just because they feel bad for me.”

  “Whoever said that was his reason?

  Did it ever occur to you

  that he might like you

  just because

  you’re you?”

  I don’t have an answer.

  “So what’s your plan, Lee?

  Are you going to keep ignoring

  the nice, thoughtful, cute boy?”

  I decide to call.

  I know it’s time.

  I know I have to do this.

  As I hit SEND on my phone,

  I feel humbled.

  Like I am slinking back

  after having done something

  terribly wrong.

  Now the phone is ringing

  and I’m wondering if it’s too late,

  if maybe Marissa

  won’t want to be friends anymore.

  Marissa and I agree

  to go to the movies.

  The movie was my idea.

  I suggested it because it seemed safe.

  We could be together,

  but not have to talk the whole time.

  I’m not sure

  how all this is going to go down.

  Probably not like Brian’s funeral.

  That was our one day of grace—

  like she hadn’t freaked out

  when I told her that Brian and I had sex,