Authors: Kevin Alan Milne
Do you hate me, diary? You should. I'm an awful person! Great-grandma crashed today while we were visiting her. Just like that, everything went south. One second she's talking to us about a letter from her husband, and the next second she's in cardiac arrest.
That could be me. Probably will be, in fact.
That's what makes me so awful! I love Grandma to death, and I'll definitely miss her when she's gone, but as I watched them working on her, trying to bring her back, part of me didn't want her to make it.
Pretty twisted, huh?
I wanted to see her die! Not that I wanted her to be gone. I just wanted to see for myself what it's like, you know? Dying. I wanted to know if that last moment was painful for her, or if she would look relieved.
I've been in her situation beforeâlying half dead, with people trying to bring you back. I don't remember much other than drifting down a dark, peaceful tunnel. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I wasn't coming
back. Of course, then I did come back, which was much more painful than leaving, that's for sure.
So go ahead and hate me, diary. I would if I were you. But can you blame me for being interested? I just wanted to see death from the other side of the body, so as to better prepare for what's comingâ¦
*Â Â *Â Â *
On Sunday afternoon, once we're home from the hospital in Seaside where they've moved Grandma, the weather finally turns perfect. Mom and Dad want some time alone to talk, so Bree and I take Cade out to the beach, where he can dink around some more with Grandpa's metal detector.
To me, the beach is heaven on earth. When I die, I'm going to ask God if I can just take my little harp to Cannon Beach and spend eternity strumming hallelujahs on a comfy beach chair.
Seriously.
When I'm dead, though, I hope my scars will be erased so I can wear a nice V-neck tankiniâpearly white, of courseâwhile I'm lounging on God's heavenly sand. As it stands now, I'm not too fond of being seen in a bathing suit, because the purple line on my chest practically glows in the sun. Rather than suffer through people's stares, I wear a tank top with a neckline that even a nun would feel comfortable in.
For two solid hours Cade traipses back and forth over the beach, covering an area half the size of a football field. Periodically the alarm goes off, signaling hidden “treasures” beneath the surface. Each time, he eagerly marks the spot with his toe, tosses the metal detector aside, digs furiously, sifts through the sand, and eventually unearthsâ¦a bottle cap. Or a screw. Or some other worthless piece of metal that someone left behind.
No more notes from Grandpa to Grandma.
No treasures whatsoever.
While I'm busy watching Cade uncover junk, Bree mostly just watches the teenage boys playing Frisbee. Two of them, both bare-chested, seem to be showing off for her.
Don't they realize she just finished middle school?
Oh well. When Bree wants to be noticed, she gets noticed. She's always been that way. All popular kids are, I suppose.
When Cade's battery finally dies, he brings his bucket of junk to where I'm sitting.
“What did you find?”
“Not much. Eight bottle caps, a broken piece of a lighter, a screw, and a fishing lure.”
“No money, huh?”
“I wish.”
“Well, don't give up. It's a big beach.”
“Maybe tomorrow. The thing's dead already, so I have to charge it again.”
Seeing that the boys are getting a little too flirty, I yell and tell Bree that it's time to go.
She drags her feet, but follows us back to the house.
After dinner, Dad packs up and heads for Portland. Thankfully, this time his send-off is uneventful, unlike last week at the restaurant. There are no long good-byes, just hugs and see-you-laters with the kids. He and Mom each give an awkward waveânothing verging on affectionate, but at least there are no angry words.
On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday the Oregon rain settles in again, meaning more time stuck indoors.
Meaning more fighting. I try to stay away from Bree and Cade as much as I can, because I really have no desire to argue with them over stupid things like who chews food the loudest or whose turn it is to fix the bunny ears so we can watch a show. Frankly, I'd rather be by myself. When I'm alone, in peace and quiet, I find it much easier to imagine what my life would be like if I didn't have such a crappy heart. Maybe if I were healthy, I'd run a marathon. Maybe I'd even win! Perhaps I'd make it to the Olympics in the two-hundred-meter Butterfly. Who knows, maybe if I didn't have this stupid heart condition, I'd have been willing to flirt a little with that cute boy at the candy shop.
Tanner. Oh, the possibilities!
Thursday brings sunshine, but I discover this much too early in the morning, thanks to my mom. “
Cock-a-doodle-doo
, slumber jacks! It's time to greet the dawn!”
My body says that it isn't time to get up yet. My mouth groggily says, “What?”
“Hurry up out of bed,” chirps Mom again. “C'mon, girls, up and at 'em.”
“It's six thirty,” Bree moans. “And summer. Why are you waking us up?”
“I know, I'm sorry. But if we don't get going soon, we may be late. After all, the early bird gets the cameo.”
I lift my head and pull at a tangle of hair. “What?”
“The early bird gets the cameo,” she repeats.
“It gets the worm.”
Cade is standing in the doorway. “A cameo is a worm?”
“No, it's aâWhat do you mean, âGets the cameo'? Cameo for what?”
Now Mom is all smiles. “It's a secret until you're downstairs ready to go. I'm not going to force you out of bed, but if you want to start enjoying this summer, I suggest you shake a leg. This early bird is heading for Astoria in fifteen minutes, with or without you.”
At a quarter to seven everyone is in the living room, ready to go, except for me. I need an extra minute to find my learner's permit, which I hold up for all to see as I come down the stairs. “Twenty-one months I've had this,” I say, making sure Mom gets a good look at it. “In that time I've driven exactly seven times.” I lower the laminated card. “Can I
please
try driving today?”
“Oh, honey,” Mom replies, as though it's the silliest idea in the world. “You know I can't let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing you don't even know how to drive that old car.”
“I can learn. If you can do it I can do it.”
“I know, butâ¦your health, Ann.”
“Aren't I healthy enough to drive?”
“Yes, I suppose. You're physically capable, butâ¦what if you get into an accident? Beginner drivers aren't known to be safe. Let's just wait until after your transplant. What's so wrong with that?”
“I thought you'd say that.” I dig into my purse once more and retrieve my diary. “I wrote this down yesterday:
We shouldn't measure lives by their length. There's nothing that says eighty years is better than fifty years is better than fifteen. It's how we live that counts.
” Looking up, I ask simply, “Sound familiar?”
My mother doesn't respond.
“Mom, I want to start living. I'm not frail. I'm not bedridden. I simply need a new heart, and I'm either going to get one or I'm not. But until I do, I'm tired of doing nothing while I wait around to find out if I'm going to live or die.”
She takes several long breaths, studying me intently the whole time. Finally she gives a pouty frown but holds out the key to the car. “I can't believe you quoted me.”
“Seriously? I get to drive?”
“Only if you promise to listen to everything I say.”
“I will! I totally will.”
“And we'll have to go extraslow, so I can't promise that we'll make it in time for the cameo.”
Bree is dying to speak. “You still haven't told us what kind of cameo you're talking about. What's it for?”
I've never seen such a giant smile grow on my mother's face. “A
movie
,” she says with a bit of flair, complete with epic hand motions. “A real-life Hollywood film! I read in yesterday's paper that they need more extras today for some big scenes.”
I feel an instant rush of butterflies. “Shut. Up.”
“Yeah, don't joke,” warns Bree. “Because being in a movie would be
beyond
totes cool.”
Mom grabs a folded newspaper from the coffee table and points to a small article, circled in pen, which verifies her claim. “We've got thirty minutes to get there, so if Ann is driving, we'd better not waste any more time standing here.”
As quick as we can, Bree and Cade race out into the sun and climb in the backseat of the Walrus. Mom and I each take our places up front, with me behind the wheel!
“Remind me again why there are no seat belts,” says Bree.
“When this car came out, I don't think they'd been invented yet,” Mom replies in all seriousness. “But don't worry, the Walrus is made of solid steel. If anyone hits us, they'll wish they hadn't. That's the only reason I'm letting Ann drive at all.”
“Well, at least it's an automatic,” I say as I familiarize myself with the buttons and gadgets up front.
“Afraid not, dear,” Mom snickers. “They used to put the shifter up there to keep it out of the way. âThree on the column,' they called it, because it's only got three gears and because the shifter is on the steering column. It takes a little getting used to.” Mom gives brief instructions on the gear pattern, as well as how to use a clutch. For practice, I shift through the gears several times with the engine off, and then finally turn it on.
The car lunges forward and immediately dies.
“Foot on the clutch, dear. Always when stopped, foot on the clutch. And the brake.”
Behind me, Cade whispers, “I really think we're gonna need seat belts.”
“Hey, I'm doing my best.” I turn the key again, and this time the Walrus stays on. With the car in reverse I ease off the clutch. To everyone's surpriseâespecially mineâthe thing backs up without incident. Going from first gear to second while moving is a little rough, but by the time we've gone the six blocks to the main intersection, I'm really getting the hang of it.
The right turn onto the main street looks like it should be a cinch, but every time I think I should go, a car comes buzzing by. “Now or never, Ann,” Mom finally says.
On her command I pop the clutch and punch it, sending everyone lurching, but somehow the maneuver lands us safely in the eastbound lane. “There.” I sigh mightily. “Easy.”
“How's your heart?” Bree asks, “Because mine is on fire.”
“Don't ask.”
As we approach the next block, a pedestrian near the strip mall catches Cade's eye. “Hey, Ann,” he says, pointing. “Isn't that what's his name?”
I nervously look to my left, and then refocus on the road ahead. One quick glance in the mirror confirms that my cheeks are taking on the burgundy tone of the Walrus's beautiful exterior.
“Uh-oh,” says Mom as she catches a glimpse of the young man walking on the sidewalk.
“It's nobody,” I say awkwardly before she can ask. “Just some kid from the candy store.”
“A rich kid,” remarks Cade.
“No, that's his last name. Remember?”
Bree is still craning her neck, gawking at him as we drive away. “You actually met
a boy
? And you got his name? All without me?”
“I didn't â
get
' his name. He just came right out and told us his name was Tanner. End of story.”
“I didn't get a great view,” Bree continues. “Is he cute?”
“Let's just drop it, OK? Yes, I met a boy. I've met lots in my life. No biggie. Now, stop distracting me while I'm driving, or you'll get us all killed.”
Bree giggles but doesn't say anything else.
After a long silence, Cade asks Mom if she knows what the movie is about.
She turns in her seat so she can see them in the back. “Didn't you read the whole ad? It's about some kids who get caught up in a modern-day pirate adventure. It should be right up your alley, Cade.”
A pirate movie? Oh greatâ¦here comes Pirate Boyâ¦
“Arrgg,” bellows my brother, right on cue. “That be perfect for Cap'n Cade!”
Mom laughs, but Bree is quick to pounce. “Not cool. The pirate thing was cute for like one minute, and then it was totes obnoxious.”
“No more obnoxious than âtotes,'” I say casually.
“Avast,” Cade tells Bree indignantly. “Ye called me âcute.'”
“I said you were obnoxious.”
“Aye. Obnoxious be more piratey.”
“âPiratey' isn't a word,” I point out. “Just be quiet, OK, Cade? We don't want you to be a pirate. Not today.”
“Arrgg,” he repeats under his breath. “Just 'cuz ye be boring, don't mean we should all be boring.”
“I'm
not
boring!”
Wellâ¦at least I don't want to be boring.
“Focus on the road, dear,” Mom warns. “Don't mind him.”
“You kinda are,” Bree echoes gingerly. “But it's OK. That's just who you are.”
Mom's brow is now furrowed angrily. “Whoa there. There's no need to get nasty. Let's just have fun and be nice today. Can we do that?”
“It's hard,” replies Bree, undeterred. “Between Pirate King and Boring Queen, my life is not easy.”
Oh right, like her life is so hard.
“Bree, that's exactly what I'm talking about, and it's uncalled for.” She pauses to make sure Cade is listening too. “Believe me, your father and I want so much for this to be a good summer for you, but you're not making it easy with comments like that. For obvious reasons, there needs to be a greater sense of peace between the three of you. With Grandma to attend to, I can't always be with you to break up fights this summer. But if this is how you act with me around, I can only imagine the things you say to each other when you're alone
.
”