The In Between

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Tara

I see an outline of him at the foot of my bed. It’s him but it’s not him. I don’t move. I don’t want to scare him away. He’s saying something. But I can’t hear it.

I can almost feel his arms around me.

Almost…

But not quite.

The words slip away and echo back again,

Tara…

Forever…

He’s with me, but he’s not with me. He wants me, but he can’t quite find me. He’s looking for me, trying to find a way back to me.

My eyes open—it was a dream. I’m holding my chest, covered in a cold sweat, gasping for air. I’m devastated. It’s like losing him all over, even though I never really had him. When I’ve caught my breath, I reach for the glass of water Mom left on my bedside table. I gulp it down. I put the glass back and think, Wait.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream? I mean, of course it was a dream. But maybe it was a sign. Maybe Justin wanted me to know that he’s still here. That he still loves me. That we aren’t over.

Is that so crazy?

I pull the blanket over my head, trying desperately to go back, to touch Justin’s face, to feel him envelop me. But nothing happens.   

I don’t care if it’s crazy, I think. It’s all I have.

I throw the blanket off. The sky outside my bedroom window is just beginning to lighten from dove gray to the palest of blues. I glance at my clock. My alarm hasn’t even gone off. I swing my legs around and sit up. The ace bandage has gotten twisted and I pull up the Kickers shirt I was sleeping in to straighten it out. A whiff of Justin-ness wafts through me—comforting, haunting.

I hear my mom’s alarm go off and listen as she pads to Meg’s room to get her up, then knocks gently on my door. 

“Tara?”

“I’m awake.”

She walks in slowly, looking at me with the same anxious question in her eyes that has been there since the accident. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Alright.”

She studies me. “You look much better this morning. Did you finally sleep?”

I nod as I plant my feet on the floor. A wave of light-headedness washes through me, but I manage to hide it. Being with Justin in my dream lingers like a secret.

I realize that for the first time in days, I am hungry. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Are there any of your banana nut muffins?”

“Of course.” She can barely contain her delight. “I’ll make you some eggs, too. The protein will help you get your strength back.”

“I just want the muffin,” I protest, but she is already out the door, bustling to the kitchen, energized with her Mom-mission.

I am about to pick up my jeans from where they’re hanging, half in/half out of my dresser drawer, when I change my mind. I stand in front of my closet and stare at my clothes. Everything reminds me of Justin. I remember what I wore when I went to meet his parents for the first time, I remember the top he pulled aside to nuzzle my neck. I touch them all now, caressing them with open hands, knowing that he once touched them, too.