Chapter 15
Jack. Jack was the person I needed right now. He could be obstinate but he always understood, which is all I wanted. Someone to understand.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, scribbling on a piece of paper. When he saw me standing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed and he covered the parchment with his hands.
"What are you doing here?" He tucked the crumpled paper under his legs.
"Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?" I asked, sitting down on the foot of his bed. "We had it out, me and mother. I need to vent."
"Sure." He said, making room for me next to him. I took full advantage of the space he had given me. I sprawled out lengthwise, propping my head against the pillow. It smelled strange. It was then I noticed how dark his hair looked, I ran my fingers through his head of greasy blonde hair.
"Jack, when is the last time you washed yourself?" I inquired darkly, inching away from him.
"I thought you wanted to talk." He snapped, pushing the crinkled paper further under him.
"Right." I lowered my eyes and started to pick at a scar on my wrist, my nails digging deeper as each violent word came back to me. "Mother says I can never see him again, Nathan. Just because she's afraid of his father. Oh Jack, what if I never see him again? What if I'm stuck in this house forever?" I could feel the hot tears starting to well up in my eyes. I didn't hold back, I let them roll down my face so he could see how much I hurt.
"You'll see him again, Eliza." Jack sighed, sliding his sticky hand into mine. It was different than other times when he held my hand. This time it actually felt tender and I didn't even think to ask why his hands were always sticky. "Mom and Dad can't stay frightened forever. It'll go away soon and then you can see him" I watched his brow furrow. "Why are mom and dad scared?" He didn't know. And why should he know?
"They think Nathan's father is out to get them." I laughed a little at how stupid that sounded out loud.
"Why do they think that?" He asked innocently. I just shrugged my shoulders, acting as ignorant as he was. How I longed to be ignorant again.
"Who knows? They're grown ups and we're just kids." I nudged him playfully and he flashed me a smile that could light up the darkest of shadows. "They don't tell us anything."
"Like I said, don't worry. I don't know about mom, but dad wouldn't keep you against your will." He grinned. "Besides, once your eighteen you're a grown up and you can go anywhere without telling no one." He looked mystified. "I wish I were a grown up."
"Don't you ever say that!" I flared. "Never wish your childhood away. Once its gone, you can't have it back. Trust me." He nodded, shaken by my sudden outburst.
"You were pretty nasty back there." He said sullenly. "I heard you arguing with mom. I don't blame you though, she was pretty mean too, telling you you couldn't see Nate anymore. But you shouldn't hae told her to go to hell."
"I know. I'm sorry." I placed a hand on his bony shoulders. he looked at me with wide, aquamarine eyes. they left my face and traveled down my bandaged arm resting for a moment on each purple blemish. He took his free hand and grazed my skin gently with his fingers.
"Do they hurt?" He asked sympathetically.
"A little bit." I said retracting my arm. "But they'll fade." he smirked weakly. "Jack, what are you hiding under your legs?" I suddenly felt curious enough to reach under the bridge of his knees and snatch the paper before he could stop me. I fended him off with my plasterd arm and smoothed out the paper with my other hand. Only it was one paper it wwas two.
One was newer, lighter in color and the writing less smudged. The handwriting was shaky and sloppy, Jack's handwriting. The other was faded and yellowing with age. The writing was neater but not by much. The beginning was almost exactly the same. "10 things to do before I die."
"Where did you get this, Jack?" I gasped.
"It's yours. You wrote it when you were my age." He said simply. "I found it in your jewelry box and I thought it was a pretty neat thing to do. So I decided I'd copy it...a little. Are you mad?"
"Why were you in my room?" I snapped. "Why did you go through my things? These are my personal thoughts, Jack!" I was kind of surprised he would do that.
"I'm sorry. I just sort of stumbled on it. Mom told me to go through your things and tell her if I found anything weird. I wouldn't have done it if she didn't tell me too!"
"What a witch." I growled. "She doesn't trust her own daughter so she sends her little brother to raid her room."
"It's low, I know." Jack agreed. "But look at what you wrote. You were a pretty crazy kid." I looked down at the wrinkled parchment and read it to myself, something I hadn't looked apon in over six years.
10 things to do before I die
Eliza Oceane Dawson
1. Fall in love forever
2. Learn how fly
3. Survive a disaster
4. Live like wildfire
5. Witness a miracle
...
"Where did I come up with this stuff?" I asked aloud. But I knew exactly how I did it. It was a long time ago, when I was Jack's age maybe even younger. It was September and I was sitting under a tree with my bet friend Ginny. She was my only friend then, a stocky girl with gingery hair, freckly skin and a knack for getting into trouble. She had an uncontrollable imagination and had a mother who was unusually frank about life experiences.
As we cooled in the shade she prattled on about some guy named Romeo and his love Juliet. At the end of her jumbled tale she added that her mommy had told her where babies come from and she proceeded to whisper her mommy's explanation as I chomped on a piece of candy. After I was done vomiting my guts out she told me how Romeo and Juliet killed themselves and didn't even get a chance to spend their lives together.
Those words, somewhere in my childish little heart, hit a soft spot. It was then I proclaimed to Ginny and to anyone within earshot that we would not die without doing everything there is to do. We each ripped out a page from our notebooks and started dreaming up the most profound and silly tasks that our little minds could imagine and wrote all down. I smiled in memory of my innocence. But then I looked at it at a deeper level.
"I haven't done any of this."
"So. It's complete madness. Except the falling in love part, but you've done that." Jack stated.
"No I haven't. At least not forever. I mean look at this Jack. I haven't ever flown, not really anyways. I've never been through a disaster or witnessed a miracle. And what the hell is live like wildfire supposed to mean?" I said angrily.
"It isn't supposed to mean anything. You were a kid, I don't think you meant it to make sense." He said flatly. "And you've got your whole life to do all that stuff."
"But the thing is, how long are our lives? None of us knows when we're going to die." I said somberly. "And I for one am not going to wait 'till I'm dead to do all these things. Like dad always says, you have to make it count."
"You're not serious. What are you thinking, Eliza." He had seen it. The little glimmer in my eye that usually sparked an idea. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet, Jack. But I think I'll need to sleep on it. I'm going back in my room. Good night Jack."