Free The Here and Now by Ann Brashares Page B

know I mean it.
    His eyes close again. I hear the last sounds going out of him, feel the last of his warmth mixing into the air.
    I hear footsteps coming, but I can’t move. I can’t pull away and leave him. I don’t care what happens to me.
    “Oh, God.”
    I look up at the sound of Ethan’s voice.
    I feel his hand on my back. “Oh, Prenna.”
    I can’t let the old man go.
    “Is he dead?”
    “Just … Yes.”
    “Did you see what happened?”
    It takes me a little while to find my voice. I choke on words like my throat was cut too. “I came at the end. I didn’t see who it was. He ran away.”
    He’s wrapped both arms around me. “You can’t stay here,” he says gently. “We have to go.”
    “I can’t.”
    “You have to.” He lets go of me and goes over to the cart. He sifts through it and picks out an envelope and stuffs it in his jacket. He comes back to me and helps me lay the old man down carefully. He lifts me up. I’m sobbing. I hear myself sobbing. I guess that must be me.
    I don’t fight him. I let him carry me along like I’m a baby. He puts me in his car and closes the door. He drives out of the lot and away from the store. He scans the long blocks and finally finds a pay phone along a deserted stretch. I understand that he calls 911.
    Back in the car, he drives onto the highway for a couple of miles and then back off the highway onto smaller and smaller roads. Finally he stops the car on a remote street. He kills the engine and reaches for me. He pulls me toward him so I’m nearly in his lap and holds me with both arms. He strokes my hair and wipes away my tears. We just stay like that for a long time.

TEN
    “You know, right?” he says to me after the tears are through.
    I’ve sat up and retaken my own seat. He’s still holding my hands. In the midst of everything are dull alarms in my head that I could be hurting him by being close like this. And there’s the blood drying all down my front and on my arms and hands. It’s on him too. It doesn’t seem to scare him and it doesn’t scare me. I’ve seen death before. I’ve seen plenty of blood before. I’ve seen suicide and I’ve even seen murder. But it horrifies me to know whose it is. And I do know, though I can’t yet put my Poppy and this poor old man together into the same person.
    I nod. I guess that means he knows too.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “For both of us,” I say.
    “For both of us.”
    “I wish I could have talked to him … you know, knowing.” It seems unfair to discover your father is alive at the same moment he is dying.
    “Him too.”
    I try to take it in slowly. It’s too much at once and I’m worried I’ll just shut down. Sometimes I think our minds have an immune system, just like our bodies do, but you have to give it time to work.
    “How long have you known?” I ask.
    “Not long. Couple of weeks.”
    “You’ve been trying to tell me.”
    “I guess. I’ve been wanting to tell you a lot of things, but I didn’t know how. It’s a lot to lay on a person. And I know you’re not supposed to talk to me. Not really talk.”
    I nod. I can still feel my cheek against the old man’s cheek. “I think at the end we both knew everything.”
    “That’s good. And that you were there.”
    “I wish I’d gotten to him sooner.” I think of something. “What made you come?”
    “He called me twice. The second time I just heard a lot of shouting. I knew something was wrong.”
    “Do you think he knew this was going to happen?”
    “He might have. He just wanted to make it another few days, but he knew somebody was watching him. I’ve been worried. I’ve been worried for both of you.”
    I don’t know how to keep pretending. I didn’t tell Ethan the truth about me, but I didn’t deny it either. I don’t know how much he knows.
    The strange thing is, I think I’m keeping all these secrets from him, but he seems to know more than I do. He’s full of certainty and I’m not sure of anything