#farfromyou

Far From You headers

“Her hair is illuminated by the headlights. She looks unearthly, almost glowing, and I’m struck by it for a moment, half forgetting that I’ve asked a question.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says solemnly. “But you have to promise not to breathe a word.” She looks to her left, then her right, before leaning forward and hissing: “Alien takeover is imminent.”

“Oh no! The little green men are coming!” I fake a gasp, and she beams at me for playing along.”

“She coughs, and when blood trickles out of her mouth, I wipe it away with my hand. “I’m so sorry, Sophie,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to be. It’s okay.” I press harder into her chest with both hands. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

“It’s okay,” I say again. I swear it, when I have no right to.

“Sophie…” She lifts her hand, clumsily drags it toward mine. I twist our fingers together, hold on tight.

I won’t let her go.

“Soph—”

Her chest rises with one last jagged breath and then she exhales gently, her body going still, her eyes losing their light, their focus on me dimming as I watch. Her head leans to the side, her grip slowly loosening in mine.

“No, no, no!” I shake her, pound against her chest. “Wake up, Mina. Come on, wake up!” I tilt her head back and breathe into her mouth. Over and over, until I’m drenched in sweat and blood. “No, Mina! Wake up!”

I hold her tight against my shoulder and scream in the darkness, begging for help.

Wakeupwakeupwakeuppleasepleaseplease.

No help comes.

It’s just her and me.

Mina’s skin gets colder by the minute.

I still don’t let her go.”

“After Mina stops breathing, I can’t let go of her. I know I have to. I need to get up. Find help.

I have to let go.

I whisper to myself, rocking, her back pressed into my chest, her head cradled in the crook of my neck, my arms around her. “C’mon. C’mon.” But it’s almost impossible to unclench my fingers. To grasp her shoulders and lay her down on the ground. I tuck my jacket beneath her head. I wish, in a frantic moment that’s so sharp it leaves me gasping, that I had something to cover her with. It’s cold outside.

I brush a strand of hair off her forehead, smoothing it behind her ear. Her eyes are still open, hazy now, staring but not seeing the endless sky.

My hand shakes as I close them. It feels so wrong, like I’m taking away the last part of her.”

“Help. I need to get help. I repeat it over and over in my head. I have to drown it out, the voice that screams Mina, Mina, Mina, over and over and over.

I take one unsure step. Then another. And another.

I walk away from her.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“She was in love with you,” he says. “And I don’t think she got to tell you, did she?”

My heart lurches, seizes inside my chest, fluttering to life at the words I’ve always wanted to hear. I shake my head. Tears spill down my cheeks.

“She loved you. She wanted to be with you. That’s why she told me about herself. She said she’d made her choice. It was you. I think it was always you.”

I look away from him, out through the blinds at the lights of town, and he stays quiet, a comforting witness, letting me cry.

Letting me finally let her go.”

“For once, she falls first, right on her ass in the mud, and instead of getting up she holds her hand out, pulling me gently down with her. Just the two of us and the mud and rain, side by side, like we’re supposed to be.

Mina sighs happily, her arm looped in mine. She leans her head against my shoulder.

“You’re crazy. We’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

She squeezes my arm, snuggling closer to me. “Admit it. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be than here with me.”

I close my eyes, let the rain fall on my face, let the weight of her press into me, her warmth seep into my skin. “You got me,” I say.”

“We were in love. Me and Mina. We were in love.”

“There’s this long road ahead. It’s never-ending, because you don’t get over losing someone. Not completely. Not when she was a part of you. Not when loving her broke you as much as it changed you.”

“When you were in Oregon, Mina would come by. I used to find her up in the tree house. Or she’d sneak into your bedroom to do homework. We’d talk sometimes. She was scared you wouldn’t forgive her for telling us about the drugs. I told her that she shouldn’t worry. That you were the type of girl who didn’t let anything stand in the way of loving someone. Especially her.”

I look up at her, surprised at the warmth in her eyes that’s almost encouragement. Mom smiles and brushes her cheek against mine. “It’s a good thing, Sophie,” she says softly. “Being able to love someone that much. It makes you brave.”

“She would’ve loved you like this,” he says.

I don’t think it’ll ever be easy to think about it, about all the chances Mina and I missed, the beginning, middle, and end we never had. Maybe we would’ve fizzled out instantly, her fear getting the better of her. Maybe we would’ve finished with high school, with fights and tears and words that couldn’t be taken back. Maybe we would’ve lasted through college, only to end in quiet, strangled silence. Maybe we would’ve had forever.”

“But my heart isn’t simple or straightforward. It’s a complicated mess of wants and needs, boys and girls: soft, rough, and everything in between, an ever-­shifting precipice from which to fall. And as it beats, it’s still her name that thrums through me.”

“I hold my hand out, palm up, to show her. “Then they won’t bite.”

Mina does the same with her hand, and our fingertips bump. She looks up and smiles at me.”

“Come with me?”

She smiles, reaches out, and takes my hand.

We walk into the rest of our lives together, not knowing it’ll end before it’s truly started.”

“I wish this could be like in the movies. That I was the type of person who could reach out and trace the letters of her name and feel peaceful. I wish I could speak to this hunk of marble like it was her, feel comforted that her body is six feet below, believe that her spirit is watching from above.”

“I kneel down next to her and pull the string of solar ­Christmas lights out of my bag. I drape them on her headstone, trailing the strands down both sides of her grave.

I stay until nightfall, watching the lights begin to twinkle. My hand rests on the ground above her. When I get up, my fingers linger in the grass.

I walk to my car and never once do I look back.

“You have to believe in something,” Mina protests.

I squeeze her hands and she grips mine back, tight, like I’m going to disappear any second.

“I believe in you,” I say.”

“Mina laughs, and I can feel the vibration of it through my skin.”

“We should get back.” Trev is up and pulling at the rigging while Mina stays where she is.

I can feel her watching me.

But when I look at her, she’s turned toward the docks, blocking me out.

Cowards, both of us.”

“Mina had been talking about you for weeks. I remember being glad she’d made a friend, that she was talking and laughing instead of crying. You were so quiet at first, you held yourself so still, sort of like Mina’s opposite.” He laughs. “But you were always watching her. I knew I could count on you, that you’d help her. ”

“I wanted to tell you about me,” I say instead. “But I couldn’t without telling you about her. I’m wrapped up in her, Trev. I never learned how to love anyone else because she was there and we were us. We were always just us, and I couldn’t break that without breaking me. Without breaking her.”

“Mina led, and I followed. She hid, and I was her shelter. She kept secrets, and I guarded them. Mina lied, and so did I.”

“Loving her was never scary. It was never wrong. It was where I fit.”

“I can’t breathe around the feeling. Her hands press down on my shoulders, pinning me to the floor. My back aches, my leg twisted at a bad angle, but her eyes burn into mine. She won’t look away now. I can’t, because I’ve never seen her this way before, like this is the most dangerous thing she’s ever done. She leans down, so close I can feel her breath against my skin. Her hair spills across my shoulder, brushing my neck.”

“I lick my lips and shake my head. My final dare.

Mina breaks, and the space between us is finally gone.

She kisses me, and even now I’m amazed that it’s her instead of me who concedes.”

“I trail my hands down the sides of her face, kiss her hard, tongue and teeth. This has never been soft or sweet; we’ve always been more than that, sharpened by time and want, our secret war finally won.”

“I want to remember everything because it’s the first time.

Later, I’ll remember everything because it’s the only time.”

“What’s in the bag?” She makes a grab for it, and I step back so she can’t get it. She pouts, her strawberry-red lips sticking out. “Mean.”

I just smile and set the bag out of her reach before boosting myself up beside her.”

“I tilt my head to the right so I can look at her. My hair and hers, blond and brown, are twined together on the blanket, and she’s careful not to meet my eyes.”

“Mina bites her lip; I’m close enough that I can smell the strawberry gloss. “Sometimes it’s all I think about,” she says, so quiet I almost don’t hear her. She sighs and reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Her hand lingers for a moment on my skin, settling into the little crook under my jaw where my pulse thumps.”

“Mina sits straight up and hops out of the truck, clapping her hands like a kid, and I smile as she watches the show, as transfixed as I am by her.”

“She beams at me, and I beam back.

Instead of taking it, she wraps both hands around mine, and we stay there, me sitting on the tailgate and her standing in front of me, the sparkler showering light between us, popping and hissing in the air. Shadows play across her face, the light illuminating her in fits and starts, and I’ve never felt more sure, and she’s never looked more beautiful.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispers.

I hook my thumb around hers, and our matching rings click against each other, the unspoken promise of forever…someday.”

“I sleep, but all I dream about is chasing after Mina, her laughing, and me never quite catching up.”

“Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her watching me, but every time I look at her straight on, she pretends she hasn’t been staring.”

“You remember what you said? About choices?”

“I remember,” I say carefully. I’m afraid to say any more.

“We should talk about it.”

“Now?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. But soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You promise?” She turns away from the road, and I’m startled to see a rare streak of vulnerability in her face.

“I promise.”

She’s got to hear it, how much I mean it.

Mina would want me to move on. She’d want me to be happy. And she’d want me to stay clean. So I’m going to do that.”

“And though you’ve made some pretty bad choices, you’ve made some decent ones, too. You got clean—and you stayed clean. I believe that. I believe you”

“I saw Kyle yesterday.”

“Run into him, did you?” Rachel asks sarcastically.

I stare at my coffee instead of her. “I might have locked him in the men’s room and threatened him with bear repellent,” I mumble.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s probably a horrible idea,”

“I wanted to make myself better. For Mina. For me.”

“I like the feel of dirt between my fingers, nursing delicate plants into strength and bloom. I like watching things flourish, like the swath of colors I can grow, bright and alive. It hurts to get up and down, but the pain’s worth the effort. At least I have something pretty to show for it.”

“you’ll be okay. You’re strong, Soph. Just think about all the stuff you’ve gotten through.”

“Get up.” Mina yanks at my blankets, and I can’t fight her with just one hand, my other still in a cast.

“You’re mean,” I tell her, rolling slowly over to my other side, smashing my extra pillow over my head instead.”

“You’re the one who broke her crown.”

I don’t bother to hide my grin. “I didn’t mean to step on it! That float was totally unstable. And I was already at a disadvantage.”

“Uh-huh, I believe you, Soph,” Mina says. ”

“It makes me laugh, the sound bursting out of me like truth. It makes me want to cry and thank her. To tell her that I’ve never told anyone before, and to tell it and have it be accepted like it’s no big deal feels like a gift.”

“You tricked out my cane.” I reach for it, and my smile is so wide, I feel like it’s going to split my face in two”

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t make you walk that far. I’ll go get help and come back for you.”

“I’m being stupid? You’re the one who failed the wilderness skills part of Girl Scouts. You’ll probably get eaten by a bear. You go, I go.”

“We’re gonna be late,” Mina says.

I zip up my boots and pull my jeans down over them. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Chill.”

“I can put aside my anger. I can be kind. She would’ve wanted that.”

“I’m not gay; I’m bisexual. There’s a difference.”

“This isn’t gross. You know what I think when I see this?”

I shake my head.

Her voice drops. She’s whispering, a secret for just the two of us: “I think about how strong you are. You didn’t stop fighting, even when your heart stopped. You came back.”

“Mina beams. “You could’ve just gotten me flowers.”

I set a seedling carefully into the dirt. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’ll make sure to thank you when I win my Pulitzer.”

“You’re going to be fine,” she promises.

I stop fighting and trust her.”

“Mina’s hand clutching mine, our nails digging into each other’s flesh.

After, I’ll trace my fingers over those bloody half-moon marks and realize they’re all I have left of her.”

“Surgical scars snake their way up my leg, around my knee, down my chest.

Battle scars, Mina calls them. “They’re fierce.”

Her hands shake when she helps me button my sweater.”

“I press hard against Mina’s chest, but my jacket’s already soaked through.

“It’s okay,” I keep saying. Over and over. She stares up at me with shocked, wet eyes and takes gulping breaths. Her body shivers beneath my hands.

“Sophie…” My name wheezes out of her. She lifts her hand, drags it toward mine. “Soph—”

It’s the last thing she ever says.”

“I loved Mina,” I say. I’ve practiced it a hundred times, but this can’t sound rehearsed. “And her murder is something I have to deal with for the rest of my life. But Mina would want me to move on. She’d want me to be happy. And she’d want me to stay clean. So I’m going to do that.”

“She was my best friend,” I say.

“Don’t you think I know how I screwed up? I barely sleep sometimes, thinking about what I could’ve done differently that night. How I could’ve stopped it. How it’s my fault. I know all of that. I just have to learn to live with it.”

“I wish I could tell Macy to hit the brakes. Beg her to take me back to Oregon with her.

How can I be here without Mina?

I bite my tongue. I have to do this for her. It’s the only thing I can do.”

“I take a breath, then another.

On the third, I step into the shower.

I let the water wash away the last of her.”

“When we were little, whenever she cried, I’d give her the purple crayon out of my box so she’d have two, and it made her smile through the tears, so I kept doing it. I stole purple crayons from everyone’s crayon boxes until she had a whole collection.”

“I can’t go out to Mina’s grave. The idea of her in the ground, sealed forever in the dark when she had been all light and sound and spark, horrifies me. When I force myself to think about it, I think she would’ve liked to disappear in flames, the brilliance and warmth all around her.

But she’s in the ground. It’s so wrong, but I can’t change it.”

“My body knows where I’m going. It’s always trying to find traces of her.”

“I’m smiling at something off camera, my eyes lowered, almost hopeful as my hand reaches out. For Mina, of course. Always for Mina”

“Sophie—

I know you’re still mad. I’m not sure you’ll even read this. But if you do…

Please get better. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.

Mina

I press my fingers under the smudge the word me is written over, trying to make out the word she’d erased. I trace two letters, the ­shadowy, barely there curls of a U and an S she didn’t quite erase: do it for us.”

“I wanted to make myself better. For Mina. For me.”

“After the crash, Mina had insisted I needed a hobby and presented me with a preapproved list. I’d chosen gardening to get her off my back, but then, as usual, she’d taken it to extremes”