The days are like this: sometimes I wake up and think, What’s due? What do I have to do today? What must I write? What’s next? Who’s in my way? I have to let the stillness of the morning hit me in slow waves. I’m in bed, I think, and I am breathing and some things hurt, some things don’t.
First I put one leg out of the bed, then the other leg, and put my feet on the floor. Mom arrives with her basil and air, and Dad with his mint and kiss, and today as I stand in front of the mirror, eating my yogurt and pills, I wonder why there is such pleasure in waking. I wonder how I could have wanted to know so much about everything out there and why, now, everything close to me is so fascinating. I wonder how the brain can work just as well when it moves slowly as it does when it moves fast. A million things happen at once just to make up a house and a yard and a mountain.
Did I ever mention that there is a nest of warblers outside my window?
Did I ever mention that my dad sometimes plays guitar in his room when he thinks everyone else is asleep?
How can one body hold so many different people? I wonder how someone can want such different things in such a short time. I wonder why everyone is so good to me.
Stuart would be home tomorrow. I was trying not to think about it because I didn’t want things to go back to the way they were. Not that Stuart had done anything wrong, Stuart was fine, it was just that I didn’t know yet where he fit into this magic combination I’d found of Coop and games and all the people around who had helped find this version of me, a person who never existed but might have always existed. I didn’t know how much he’d like playing fake tennis or building tiny stick houses. Stuart’s girlfriend was Future Sam and Sammie trying to be Future Sam and I didn’t know how well he’d like regular Sammie, as I was right now. I was just learning to like me this way. Anyway.
I followed my family outside to say good-bye for the day, waiting on Mrs. Lind, and from far away, I could see Coop making his way toward me, holding a bowl of strawberries from his mom’s garden.
“Hello, Samantha.”
“Hello, Cooper.”
He threw a strawberry at me. I held out my hands and missed, of course. “Oh, Jesus, sorry,” Coop said, and immediately went to find the berry on the ground. He rubbed it on his shirt and ate it. “I asked your mom and dad if it was okay that we go on an adventure.”
I thought, one last adventure, though maybe that wouldn’t be true. But I was not getting better. I was getting calmer, but not always better. We both knew that, I think.
“Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.” I motioned him to come closer to me so I could have a strawberry. He came closer. We ate the whole bowl one by one, sometimes I turned my neck to look up at him, sometimes I didn’t.
“Let’s go down to the creek,” I finally said, and whistled for Puppy. As the dog rushed toward us, I decided I wanted the grass blades between my toes, so I sat down and slipped off my shoes. It took me a while. Coop threw a stick down the slope for Puppy until I was finished. I reached out my hand for him, and we were ready.
The creek’s just across the highway, a little break in the land under bending trees that you can barely see until you’re right up close. We sat with our feet in a sunny patch of water.
“I hate being slower,” I said.
“Maybe you’re not, though,” Coop said. “We were both chubby kids, so you’re probably just the same speed we both were a few years back.”
I burst out laughing, thinking of the two of us bumbling toward the creek, cheeks and hair flying, making whooshing sounds. “Running down the mountain really does make you feel faster than you are, doesn’t it?”
“It’s just gravity!” Coop said, laughing with me. He laughed with his belly and turned to me, the serene smile back on his face, and said, “Yeah.”
“Yeah, what?”
“I was just thinking and I said the end part aloud.”
“I do that, too,” I said.
“Let’s go to the general store!” he said. “That was my idea.”
“We can stay here for a little while, though,” I said. I wanted every part of the day to last as long as possible.
“Sammie. How…” Coop started, then said, “Never mind.”
“No, what?” I asked.
“What do you think of me?” he said, rushed.
His face had turned back toward the water, so I couldn’t see what exactly he meant.
I looked at my feet. “I think you’re Coop,” I said. “You just… are.”
“Do you think I’m just here with you because you’re sick? Because it’s not just because you’re sick.” He had his hands wrapped around his ankles, twisting, nervous. A funny thing to do with all those muscles, the boy inside coming out.
“No,” I said, and he turned. “I just think you’ve been a good friend to me.”
“Yeah, good,” he said, nodding.
A bug jumped into his hair. I couldn’t get it, quite, but I brushed it out. He touched his hair where my fingers had been. “A bug,” I said. “It’s gone.”
I pushed my glasses up my nose.
“I missed you,” he said suddenly, and shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I missed you, too,” I said, also quick. But too quick for how big that feeling was, for how long we had stayed away. I hoped he would come back every day from then on, even though he didn’t like Stuart, and we could have adventures, or just say hello, at least. I wonder what that meant. I took a deep breath and said, “We were different people for a while, but now we’re not. Right?”
“Right. Well, kind of.” He was looking at me, but not quite at my face. I blushed.
We stood. The sun had started warming the water, the rocks.
And then we made that circle I talked about, the one we always used to make on summer days like these.
Down the mountain, to the creek, to outside the general store to talk to Fast Eddy (he told us it was nice to see us again, but he had noticed Coop’s Blazer speeding several times, he’ll let it slide—thanks, Eddy). We had sweat through our shirts by the time we went inside.
There were two Dr Peppers left. “Oh, good,” Coop said, opening the cooler door. “We don’t have to fight.”
“Let me in there with you, I’m burning up.”
We stood as close to the racks as we could, our shoulders pressed together, sticking our faces near the sodas.
Then farther down the creek to drink them. Mine had been shaken up where Coop had kept it in his pocket, so when he opened it for me, it sprayed both of us. We used creek water to get the sticky stuff off our skin, then went up the mountain again. Coop gave me a piggyback ride. I laid my cheek on his back. He was sweaty again, but I didn’t care.
When we got home, Coop showed Bette and Davy all the wonders of Captain Stickman in the front yard.
He kneeled and handed them both long sticks we found near the tree line.
“I now pass the mantle of Captain Stickman to you, Davienne McCoy, and to you, Bette McCoy. Amen.”
“Remember, you can be Captain Stickwoman, you don’t have to be Captain Stickman,” I told them.
“Friend to all humans and animals,” Coop said.
“Amen,” I repeated.
“Ayyyyy-men!” Davy said, and took her stick.
“Ay-women,” Bette said, and took hers as well.
“Exactly,” I told her.
Then we came inside, and after Coop used the bathroom, he saw my note to myself and asked, “What’s that?”
I told him the toothbrush trick, and he had an idea, which I think he can explain better himself.
hello esteemed memory book, cooper lind here, ladykiller and connoisseur of dank weed. anyway i was thinking after seeing sammie’s pasting of stuff on the wall, her notes to herself, maybe it would be a cool idea to paste things all over her house, to help her remember. not just labeling, but more like a memory book of the house? maybe long term memories will help her better access short term? i don’t know, i’m no doctor, but take the bathroom for example: she can have her practical notes to herself, but also a story about a time she had there. like, on the tub, “here’s where sammie and cooper once put kool-aid in the tub when they were six, because they wanted to take a kool-aid bath, and they were grounded from seeing each other for two weeks.” that kind of thing.
Sammie here again. Here are some of them:
On the fridge door: What time is it? If it’s 11:30, it’s lunchtime and you can have whatever you want! If it’s earlier than that, you already had breakfast. If it’s later than that, wait for a bit. Mom and Dad will make you dinner. Chocolate milk: anytime!
Once, Harry used one of Sammie’s old chocolate milk cartons to mix wheat paste to use as glue for his “time machine” science project. He had it clearly labeled WHEAT PASTE DON’T DRINK, but Sammie had her nose in a Redwall book and wasn’t paying attention while she grabbed it and took a big mouthful of wheat paste! She spit it all over the fridge door. When she went to go get a rag to clean it up, Davy had thought it felt neat and smeared glitter all over it. Fun fact: that’s why it looks like a unicorn threw up on the door of the fridge!
Above Puppy’s food bowl: Puppy doesn’t need food! Harry already fed him this morning, and will feed him later tonight.
Remember when Coop thought it would be a good idea to do a “Puppy Easter egg hunt,” but instead of Easter eggs, he used uncooked hot dogs? He put uncooked hot dogs around the house to see if Puppy would find them. And Puppy did find them, except for one, which Mom found later in the washing machine. Coop is sorry about that.
On my mirror: Good morning, Sammie! Mom and Dad will be coming in shortly to say hello.
Remember when you picked out this mirror and dresser when you were six? You had been sharing this room with Harry, and for your birthday, everyone decided it was time for you to get your own room. So we went to the flea market in Lebanon, just you and Mom and Dad while the kids stayed with Mrs. Lind, and you found this dresser and mirror within minutes of being there. Mom and Dad tried to tell you that it looked clunky and old-fashioned for a little girl but you knew what you wanted, so they trusted you and put it in the back of the truck and let you ride home with it in the back the whole way. Besides your books, it was the first two things in this house that were fully yours.
Now we’re just lounging after dinner in my room. Coop’s been reading the trainer’s manual for his new job fixing equipment during the off-season at the ski resort, which he’ll start next week.
He went to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
I didn’t forget anything today.
In fact, I’ve been really good for the past couple of days since Coop has been around.
I feel strange in my stomach, but not a bad kind of strange, sort of, like, butterflies, at the idea of Coop being in my room late at night. How cheesy is that? Okay, he’s coming back.
so
How’s that water?
delicious. want some
Yes.
Thank you.
What’s up?
lol
Now you’re the one who’s typing lol when you could just laugh.
yeah but your parents just came in to check on you, which means we’re not supposed to laugh
That’s not what that means.
does that mean you should go to sleep and i should go home
No! Don’t go yet.
are you going to fall asleep
No way.
you look sleepy
It’s because I’m staring at a computer screen, dorkus.
look at me
…
See?
nah you look sleepy
I’m wide awake.
I don’t know, what do you want to do?
how are you feeling
So fresh, actually. Really good.
are you up for another field trip
Where?
guess
Potholes?
duh
Yeah.
are you sure? you gonna be okay?
Yeah, I took all my meds. And you know what to do if I can’t remember stuff.
yeah plus i actually am a first responder
What?? Really? You know CPR and everything?
yeah
When did that happen?
i took a class
When?
that night i drove you home from the side of the road your parents told me you weren’t supposed to hang out unless it was with someone who was certified. so i took a class. i even have a card! i’m a card-carrying member
I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Coop.
:)
:)
Let’s go.
you ready?
Yeah.