Free The Day Before by Lisa Schroeder Page B

walking, their world expands, and suddenly, you just aren’t as important. It’s how it should be, of course. But it always makes me a little sad.
Over the past few months, most of my families have left me. I was sad to see the children I care for so much leave. But I’m trying to be understanding and supportive—they have to do what’s best for them and their families. I’m thankful to have the twins here now. And Sierra, a two-year-old. She’s my sunshine.
I know not everyone will agree with what we are doing. I also understand that people don’t want to get caught up in the drama. I’ve asked the media to respect our privacy, but they obviously don’t care.
I suppose the one good thing was that we were finally able to see a picture of you on the news. Did you notice how much you look like Allen?
You are beautiful.
Love,
Jeanie and Allen

shocking
    Next we head to the exhibit
I most want to see.
Passages of the Deep.
    Sharks and stingrays swim
above us,
below us,
all around us.
    We walk through
the tunnel of glass
slowly,
as if we’re afraid
of falling in.
    “Can you feel it?” Cade asks me.
    “Feel what?”
    “The power.
The confidence.
They’re so damn confident.”
    I nod.
I do feel it.
But I want to tell him,
I feel something else too.
    Electricity.
    And it’s not from
the eels.

never before
    Guys always look at me
and see the cool girl
who plays drums,
and they think,
friend.
    Right now,
I want to know
what this guy thinks.
    I want to know
what this guy feels.
    I want to know
this guy.

trapped
    He stops.
Touches the glass.
Looks up
at a leopard shark
swimming
over and back,
over and back,
over and back.
    “Look at him,” he says.
“He owns that water.
Nothing bothers him.
Nothing.
    He’s free to swim and do
whatever the hell he wants.
Man. I want to be like that.”
    “Cade?”
    “Yeah?”
“He’s trapped in a tank.”
    The shark swims
right past us.
If it weren’t
for the glass, we’d be
fingers to fins.
    “Oh, God,” he whispers.
“Let him go.”

radio for help
    Why do I get the feeling
this boy is
lost at sea?
Just like me?

what a feeling
    We stay with the sharks
for a long time,
maybe hoping
they will fill us up
with all the power
and confidence they possess.
Or maybe it’s more than that.
    People pass through,
lavishing the creatures
with praise and admiration.
    And yet,
as much as visitors
appreciate them,
maybe even love them,
there are boundaries
and they’re respected—
no questions asked.
    So here,
in the passages of the deep,
among the deadliest creatures,
for just a moment, one
incredible,
miraculous
moment,
I feel
    safe.

hold on
    When we’re
alone for a few minutes,
we stand side by side,
watching a bat ray skim
against the glass like a flying carpet.
    It fascinates me.
Then something
even more fascinating.
    “I’m hungry,” Cade says.
“Wanna grab some lunch?”
    I look at him.
Really look,
as his eyes stay fixed
on mine.
His eyes are deep brown.
    Deep like a good conversation.
Deep like a hole.
Deep, of course, like
the ocean.
    I fall in.
I say yes.

ninety-nine degrees
    I count
in my mind
the number of words
I’ve said
to this guy.
    Twenty?
Twenty-five?
Either way, not many.
    And even now
as we walk, the only sound
either of us makes
is the sound of our shoes
hitting asphalt.
    We step
in rhythm,
and in my mind
I come in with
a drum fill that makes
the crowd go wild.
    He looks at me.
Smiles.
I smile back.
And still, no words.
    One time Mom told me the people
you can be quiet with
are the ones
you are the most
comfortable with.
    Then why am I sweating
like a lobster headed for
a boiling pot?

spread the luck
    Cade reaches to the ground,
picks up a penny,
puts it in his pocket.
    “Short on cash?” I tease.
    “Short on luck,” he quips back.
Maybe he’ll share with me.

well … we both watch movies
    He drives
a classic, pale yellow
VW Beetle.
It’s as cool as he is.
    Now it’s my turn.
    “Did you see that movie?”
    He looks at me
over the top of the