There hasn't been a moment that's gone by that I haven't thought of Augustus. And I suppose there never will be.
I was doing okay for a while right after. I mean, not great. But I would reread Gus's letter everyday, and I would read The Price of Dawn when I was feeling down, and I was happy for Mom who was busy working on her degree. I would drive over to Isaac's sometimes and play video games in his basement. Once in a while we'd even jokingly suggest going to Support Group together for the hell of it, and then we'd show up for some lemonade and cookies and a dose of depression and inevitably, we'd walk out, Isaac clutching my arm, declaring we were never going back again. Everything reminded me of Augustus, from the Literal Heart of Jesus to whenever I made a phone call, but that was okay. I liked being reminded of him. I, for one, was going to make sure he wouldn't be forgotten for a while.
Phalanxifor was doing its job as good as it always had been, though I couldn't shake off the feeling that one of these days it was just going to dump me into that 70% of people of whom it didn't feel like stopping the growth of cancer cells in.
Anyway, one day I was sitting in my room, reading over Gus's letter and crying a bit, when Mom came in and asked me if I wanted to watch America's Next Top Model.
"No," I responded automatically.
"Hazel, you've been crying in your room for the past week. Please."
I looked up at her, at the wrinkles etched into her forehead that I hadn't quite noticed before, realizing that I had in fact been crying in my room the past week.
She came over to me and put her arm around me. "Hazel, I have something I need to tell you."
"What is it?" I asked nonchalantly, but I could feel my heart start to race.
"Hazel, I don't know how to tell you this," Mom began.
My heart was pounding now. "What is it? Did we get test results back or something?"
"No, no, it's not that," Mom said, drawing in a deep breath. "It's just that...well, next week, your dad has to go to Chicago on business, and well, I was going to go to a conference on social work there. So, you'd have to stay by yourself, Hazel, for a weekend. If you don't want to, though, just tell me and I'll stay home and-"
"Oh. That's fine," I replied, laughing with relief.
"Are you sure? If you need anything at all, Hazel, you can just call me and I'll be right home, okay? I'll make sure you have emergency numbers and the numbers for the doctor and I'll call you and check in every few hours, okay? And-"
"I'll be okay," I chuckled. "Really, Mom. I'm glad you're getting your degree, I really am. I hope you and Dad have a nice time in Chicago."
"I mean, or you can come with us if you'd rather, Hazel. I mean, your dad will be busy all day, and I guess you can come to the conference, but I'll mostly be listening to panels and speeches-"
"It's totally fine. I don't mind staying home. Really."
Mom sighed and stroked my cheek. "You sure, Hazel?"
"Positive."
*...*
After about eight phone numbers scrawled on a notepad, a dozen reminders to take my medicine, two dozen kisses on the cheek from Mom and Dad, and a call less than five minutes after they pulled out of the driveway, I was by myself on a Friday night. Which was a weird feeling, because I wasn't alone often.
We had already ate dinner, so I curled up in bed with a new book that I was reading, but I soon found myself with back with the familiar, worn cover of An Imperial Affliction in my hands. I hadn't even touched it since I saw Peter Van Houten at Gus's funeral, but now I was reading Anna's story again, and the Dutch Tulip Man was back, except this time I wasn't wondering if he was a con man, I was thinking about Amsterdam and tasting the stars with Augustus, and I was thinking about kissing him in Anne Frank's house, and I was thinking about Peter Van Houten's eight-year-old daughter and then I was crying and thinking how it was a privilege to have my heart broken by Augustus and I just wanted him back and I wanted to call him and go to that special third space that we went to on the phone and-
-And then my phone did ring, and my heart leapt foolishly for a moment. But I cursed myself for my stupidity: it was Mom, of course. Had I just thought it could have been-?
"Hello?" I asked, wiping a hand across my eyes and choking back the sobs that were wracking my body.
"Hazel, sweetie, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I gasped. "I'm fine, Mom."
"Hazel, you don't sound okay, are you sure-"
"Yes, Mom. I'm thinking about stuff, that's all. How's Chicago? Are you at your hotel?"
"Yes, it's really nice. Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"No. I'm good. Just reading. I'm about to go to bed."
"Okay. Don't forget to take your medicine, honey."
"I already did."
"I love you, Hazel."
"Love you, Mom."
And that was that. I put AIA away and put my BiPap on and laid down and drifted off in memories of a canal-veined city raining white petals...
*...*
My eyes flew open. The first thing I noticed was that it darkness still pervaded my room, and the second thing I was aware of was a peculiar, faint whirring noise that seemed to be coming from outside.
I bolted upright. It repeated itself, louder. I shook my head, trying to clear the grogginess from my head. Unhooking myself from the BiPap, I stuck the nubbins of my oxygen tank into my nose, and peered out my window, but it was too dark to make anything out.
Brimming with curiosity, I rushed downstairs as fast as my sucky lungs could allow me, and when I launched myself onto the back porch I figured the last time I felt so winded was when I climbed the stairs at Anne Frank's house.
And that's when I saw it. Amidst my panting, I gazed up, and where my swing set used to be, the one that Augustus and I sold - a telephone box.
What?
Mom went pretty crazy about the backyard some days, mowing the lawn countless times and clipping the bushes and perfecting the garden, but I was pretty sure she hadn't put up a telephone box for ornamentation.
And that's when - the door opened - and someone stepped out. Gazing through the darkness, clutching the handle of my oxygen tank tighter, I watched the figure make its way towards me: not in a threatening way, but in a dazed sort of way; it seemed to be stumbling about, like a toddler trying out its feet for the first time.
I furrowed my brow as he approached, blundering across my yard. This was stupid, stupider than when my phone rang. The long limbs, the mahogany hair: a bit longer than I remembered it, flopping over his eye - it couldn't be, he was so much older now, but yet...
"Augustus?"