Because I Promised

Two | I bet you do.

"Ron, I don't know if he can handle this." I turn onto my side, holding my pillow to my chest. The tears continue falling from my green eyes that have turned more red than green. What is wrong with me? My parents are tap-dancing around me like I'm going to break at any moment. Even from my room I can hear my parents talking about me like I'm not home.

"He's a strong boy Grace. This is meant for him and you know it." I don't have a clue what they're even talking about anymore. I hear the words but none of it is even registering with me anymore. I keep telling myself that if I fall asleep, it'll be a dream in the morning.

I can't seem to wrap my head around everything. Alison is gone, just like that. She was taken away before she even started living. And she didn't even keep fighting. She gave up, just ended things before her cancer had the chance to end her.

I lie there for hours before I hear a knock on my door. It's rough, not soft like Ali used to knock when I was sick and she brought me soup. I turn to face the door, my pillow still underneath my arm, along with the stuffed animal she gave me for our one year. She used to call it the Alisaurus Rex, and it would be there whenever she couldn't. This is the first time I've ever held it to me for more than five minutes.

"Jord, a package came for you today." I hear my dad's voice and hear the words he's saying but I can't think anything of them. "It's addressed in her handwriting. I compared it to a letter in the kitchen." He explains and I suddenly feel as if I've lost all breathing capabilities. My chest feels heavy, way too heavy.

"I can leave it on your desk for you, or I can keep it for a while." He keeps talking, but I'm not listening. I'm focusing on the way my breath is coming out unevenly and the way I'm struggling to hold onto my sanity. "I'll just leave it, okay?" I don't nod or even blink my eyes, but he does leave the package on my desk. He turns to leave, but pauses in my doorway. "I know you don't know it right now, but you're going to be alright." He doesn't wait for a response. He just leaves as quickly as he came.

I wait until I hear footsteps and hear my parents' door closing before I finally get up. My feet cross the hardwood floor slowly and carefully, as if they know that I'm not sure if I can do this. I run my fingers along the white plastic of the packaging and feel my pulse quicken.

As I stare at the label, I feel more tears threatening to pour from my eyes. She filled out the label in her favorite purple pen. She liked to write in purple because it was more fun to study when her notes were colorful.

Not being able to look at it any longer, I tear the top of the package open, almost dropping the thickly bound journal that is inside. I'm choking on my own breath by the time I take the journal in my hands. It has my name scrawled on the front in big, loopy letters. I press my back up against my bedroom wall and let myself slide until I'm sitting on the floor underneath the light of my reading lamp. It doesn't matter than I have trash next to me, or dirty clothes on the other side of me. It only matters that I have this journal in my hands.

I find the strength to open it to the first page, where I see more of her handwriting.

Dear Jordan,

Two years ago, I made a promise. I promised you that I would never forget, and that I would find a way to tell you everything I've ever held back. I said that no matter how hard it was, I would write you a journal, so that one day you knew what was going through my mind every second of every day. You asked me why I couldn't just tell you.

Here's the reason, two years later: I knew that we wouldn't last. I knew that one day, we would be strangers again and I also knew that you would change. I knew that you would become a completely different person from the one I fell in love with.

I also knew that I had cancer, and that I wouldn't live long enough to tell you everything.

So here it goes, every little thing I've ever held back, every time I've bitten my tongue or kept my opinion a small thought to myself.

I can't promise you'll like this. In fact, you'll hate it.

But you'll read it, because I wrote it.

It isn't until the last word that I'm completely sobbing, and cursing myself for it. Why should I have to sit in my room crying in the middle of the night? Why did it get to be so easy for her? She just got to check out whenever she thought she was done. I have to stay here, without her.

Against my better judgment, I turn the page and I keep reading.

Dear Jordan,

I haven't written in one of these things in ages. I don't even know if I know how to anymore. A couple of days ago, you asked me to start speaking up. You don't want me to hold everything in, and you don't know why I would.

I remember this day. I remember yelling at her because she never even tried to speak up for herself or defend her opinion.

I guess I should tell you why I hold things back. I don't want to waste our time together fighting over trivial things. If I have a problem with the way you eat burritos, I don't think it affects our relationship.

I love you Jordan, and I even love the things about you that drive me insane. So I'm only doing this for you, so that you can finally know everything. You'll know what makes me tick and why it does.

I clench the journal to my chest and try to catch my breath. I can hear her voice in my head.

You know when you go to camp, and talk to your friends about me? I only bring this up now because you're on your first day of NYLT today. I've never felt so insecure than when you talk about me when I'm not there. It makes me wonder what things you have to say about me when I can't hear you.

Do you tell them that I talk when I sleep?

No.

Do you tell them that I'm annoying when I've had too much sugar?

Yes.

Do you tell them that our first kiss was wonderful?

No.

Do you tell them that you could do better?

Yes.

I bet you do, because you can never appreciate what's in front of you. You keep back-ups of everything, from your body wash to your memory cards and hard-drives. You're always afraid that something is going to fail on you. Do you think I'll be the same way? I won't, you know. I know you don't date because feelings get messed up and people change. I know you don't want to get mixed into all of that.

I'm sorry that I've forced you into this. If you ever feel like you can do better, don't bother sparing my feelings. I'll say that I've known all along and I'll pretend not to care.

I hate that you talk about me with them more than you can talk with me.

I like you Jordan, but liking you isn't enough all the time.

Sincerely, Alison.

I can't keep the tears from streaming down my face in heavy drops. My breaths are coming out in strangled sobs that don't stop. I stay sitting on my floor, rocking back and forth with my fingers pulling at my too-long hair. This is how my parents find me in the morning.