instead of Skylar. If it had to be one of us, it should’ve been me. Skylar was so young. She barely had a chance to get started.
I remember the last time my parents took her and her best friend Kevin to the museum in February. When they got back Skylar was clutching a kids’ book on hieroglyphics and couldn’t stop talking about mummies. She said when she was older she was going to become an archaeologist and visit the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt. Months before that she went around telling as many people as would listen that when she grew up she wanted to go into space and see the earth from so far away that it looked like a marble.
“Wouldn’t you be homesick?” I asked her after hearing that for something like the fourth or fifth time. “With the earth being this tiny little circle so far away?”
Skylar paused and thought about it. “No, because I’d be in radio and video contact with everyone and that would make it seem not so far away.”
But what if you never got back? I remember thinking that if it was me I’d be scared something would go wrong and that I’d never set foot on the earth again. I’d go because if I had the chance I’d want to have a look at what was out there but I’d worry about it too. I didn’t say anything about not getting back to my sister, though, and I guess it didn’t occur to her. I wonder if that’s because seven isn’t old enough to worry about something like never seeing the planet again or whether Skylar herself was just more fearless than I am.
There are so many things … so many things she’ll never do. And I’ll never know what the older Skylar would’ve been like. How can that be possible?
Pain drags me under again. It stretches out in all directions like the destruction caused by an atom bomb.
“Breckon?” Ty prompts. “What about it?”
I press my thumb against my bandage until I wince at that different kind of hurt. But it works—it brings me back.
“I hurt my hand,” I say with a groan. “Fucking scalded it. There must be something wrong with our kitchen tap.” Not the tap but the water heater, probably. My grandmother said something about the water temperature to Lily when she was washing dishes yesterday and then they both probably forgot all about it.
I didn’t.
Ty and I ruminate on my latest injury for a second. He and our friend Rory (also known as Big Red) still play for the school soccer team. For a long time after the accident I was pissed with my parents for making me stop, but when I got over it I realized that I didn’t miss soccer as much as I thought I would. I wondered if maybe I’d never actually liked soccer as much as Ty and Rory. Th [ anss en I started sketching, which is something I used to do when I was younger, and picked up a guitar. At first my parents paid for the lessons but then Jules and I got to know each other and for a while most of my time went to us—even if I wasn’t with her I’d be thinking about her. She isn’t my first girlfriend but she’s the first one I’ve felt like that about.
When it happened it was like the opposite of discovering I didn’t miss soccer. I thought the sex I’d had with my last girlfriend, Nadine, was pretty good at the time, but Jules and the way our bodies were always in sync blew my mind. And it wasn’t just the sex that was amazing; it was every single thing you could think of. Jules and I could have a conversation about the simplest thing, like what we had for breakfast, and it felt engrossing or funny or made me happy in a way that it wouldn’t if I was talking to someone else. That’s how I got sidetracked from guitar—the feeling that Jules was the best thing to do with my time.
The feeling didn’t change, but somewhere along the way we both gradually realized that our relationship didn’t hinge on spending every second together. You miss too much if you just do one thing all the time, even if it happens to be your favorite thing. So I started playing
I remember the last time my parents took her and her best friend Kevin to the museum in February. When they got back Skylar was clutching a kids’ book on hieroglyphics and couldn’t stop talking about mummies. She said when she was older she was going to become an archaeologist and visit the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt. Months before that she went around telling as many people as would listen that when she grew up she wanted to go into space and see the earth from so far away that it looked like a marble.
“Wouldn’t you be homesick?” I asked her after hearing that for something like the fourth or fifth time. “With the earth being this tiny little circle so far away?”
Skylar paused and thought about it. “No, because I’d be in radio and video contact with everyone and that would make it seem not so far away.”
But what if you never got back? I remember thinking that if it was me I’d be scared something would go wrong and that I’d never set foot on the earth again. I’d go because if I had the chance I’d want to have a look at what was out there but I’d worry about it too. I didn’t say anything about not getting back to my sister, though, and I guess it didn’t occur to her. I wonder if that’s because seven isn’t old enough to worry about something like never seeing the planet again or whether Skylar herself was just more fearless than I am.
There are so many things … so many things she’ll never do. And I’ll never know what the older Skylar would’ve been like. How can that be possible?
Pain drags me under again. It stretches out in all directions like the destruction caused by an atom bomb.
“Breckon?” Ty prompts. “What about it?”
I press my thumb against my bandage until I wince at that different kind of hurt. But it works—it brings me back.
“I hurt my hand,” I say with a groan. “Fucking scalded it. There must be something wrong with our kitchen tap.” Not the tap but the water heater, probably. My grandmother said something about the water temperature to Lily when she was washing dishes yesterday and then they both probably forgot all about it.
I didn’t.
Ty and I ruminate on my latest injury for a second. He and our friend Rory (also known as Big Red) still play for the school soccer team. For a long time after the accident I was pissed with my parents for making me stop, but when I got over it I realized that I didn’t miss soccer as much as I thought I would. I wondered if maybe I’d never actually liked soccer as much as Ty and Rory. Th [ anss en I started sketching, which is something I used to do when I was younger, and picked up a guitar. At first my parents paid for the lessons but then Jules and I got to know each other and for a while most of my time went to us—even if I wasn’t with her I’d be thinking about her. She isn’t my first girlfriend but she’s the first one I’ve felt like that about.
When it happened it was like the opposite of discovering I didn’t miss soccer. I thought the sex I’d had with my last girlfriend, Nadine, was pretty good at the time, but Jules and the way our bodies were always in sync blew my mind. And it wasn’t just the sex that was amazing; it was every single thing you could think of. Jules and I could have a conversation about the simplest thing, like what we had for breakfast, and it felt engrossing or funny or made me happy in a way that it wouldn’t if I was talking to someone else. That’s how I got sidetracked from guitar—the feeling that Jules was the best thing to do with my time.
The feeling didn’t change, but somewhere along the way we both gradually realized that our relationship didn’t hinge on spending every second together. You miss too much if you just do one thing all the time, even if it happens to be your favorite thing. So I started playing
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