truly important things left in my life: My baby. Ryden. And the cancer. We’re all so intertwined that I can’t imagine any of them without the others.
Because even before the pregnancy, even before Ryden and I were together, he was part of it.
I liked him so much freshman and sophomore years that I couldn’t concentrate. I could barely sleep. I didn’t have an appetite. All I ever thought about was Ryden and how utterly convinced I was that we were meant to be together. Even when I started feeling really terrible midway through sophomore year with the fatigue, the unexplained bruising, the constant feeling that I couldn’t get enough air, Ryden was still the primary occupant of my thoughts.
As this is the time for the truth, there’s something else I want to get out there, something else I’ve never told anyone: while I sat there in that oversized chair during my first chemotherapy treatment, shivering and sick, I wondered if maybe I would have picked up on the warning signs earlier if I hadn’t been so infatuated with Ryden. Turns out the symptoms of an unchecked melanoma that has metastasized to your liver, gallbladder, and kidneys are remarkably similar to those of lovelornness.
Would things have been different if I hadn’t had a crush on him? Would I have noticed that the mole on my leg, the one that had been there as long as I could remember, had changed? Would I have gone to the doctor sooner? Would I be less sick now?
I don’t have answers to these questions, and I never will.
But I don’t care.
I got to be with the guy I love, against all the odds. And he loves me too. And I get to take all that love and energy and joy and pass it on to my daughter. My legacy.
Though I may not have many boxes left, the ones I have are pretty damn perfect.
Chapter 28
“Pretty damn perfect?!” I slam the book against the face of the locker across from me. The sound of my voice reverberates down the empty hallway. I thrust my hands through my hair, pulling hard, feeling the skin of my scalp tugging away from my skull, and let out the longest, loudest scream I can.
Full sentences are beyond me right now. All I’ve got are words. Tiny phrases. Like my head is one giant keyword infographic.
On purpose.
Legacy.
Love.
Lying to him.
Need.
Perfect.
Symptoms.
Lovelornness.
Blame.
My fault.
Her fault.
On. Fucking. Purpose.
Oh God oh God oh God. I pace the dark hall like a crazy person, raking my hands down my face over and over again, trying to make sense of all this.
The funny thing is it makes sense. It makes perfect sense, actually. I can think clearly enough to know that if I weren’t me, if I were some random person watching the movie of my life, I would get it. The picture is clear now. But it’s not making the right kind of sense, the sense that’s been in my head for the past year.
Here’s what I knew for certain: this whole mess was my fault.
Here’s what I know now: Meg believed that too, but not in the way I thought. And not in a way that makes me feel any better at all. She was so obsessed with me sophomore year that she didn’t go to the doctor when she started getting sick? Her cancer got bad just because I fucking existed? Are you fucking kidding me? Why would she ever write that? Why would she leave it in a journal for Alan to find? How cruel could she possibly be?
I can’t believe I used to like knowing that Meg had a crush on me before we got together. That was the first secret I learned from her journal, the green one before the checklists. Now I wish I didn’t know any of it. I wish I’d never laid eyes on her notebooks.
And the pregnancy, the one thing I knew I was to blame for—turns out it wasn’t my fault at all. Meg lied to me from day one. Used me, manipulated me, made me love her, let me fight for the abortion when she knew her decision all along, destroyed me just so she could leave something meaningful behind. Seriously, are you fucking kidding me?
Well, guess what you left behind, Meg? Nothing but misery and pain and regret.
I will hate you forever.
Chapter 29
My phone’s been going crazy. I sort of hear it ringing and beeping, but it’s far away, like I’ve got on noise-canceling headphones.