(no subject)

[knkfics]

With thanks and love to all my faithful readers. ^_^


Chapter Twenty-Seven

He’s gone, he’s gone. Can’t really write more now. Neil’s waiting. But . . . Jesus, he’s gone.

I think I’d better get some sleep.

^^^^

Neil woke up slowly. He could hear birds, and there was some warm air blowing over his face. He yawned a little, and stretched, rolling over. Rowan stirred when he did, shifting as Neil changed position. Neil flung his arm over Rowan’s waist and nestled closer.

His eyes opened. He frowned as he studied their surroundings. Something just didn’t seem quite right.

He sat up with a jolt.

“Uhhh . . .?” Rowan rubbed his eyes and glanced over at him. “Whas wrong . . .?”

Neil only stared around the room. He and Rowan were curled up in bed together, with the blankets pulled up. The room was mostly dark; the curtains were hanging in their original position. The door was open, as they had left it, but the screen door was closed - and intact. The baseball bat was propped up in the corner, where they had left it the day before.

He looked over at Rowan. The teenager was blinking up at him sleepily. There were no traces of the bruises that had been forming on his neck when they had finally fallen asleep. Neil lifted one hand gingerly to his face and knew that his own body, although it had taken quite a beating, was fine.

“Hey,” Rowan said, “did you carry me inside after I fell asleep?”

“No,” Neil said. It was all he could manage.

“Then how did we . . .” Rowan’s eyes opened wider as he, too, took in their surroundings. After a long minute, he spoke up again, more hesitantly. “Did you put the curtains back up?”

“No,” Neil repeated. “And I didn’t fix the door, either. Or the railing. Or anything else.”

They stared around for a few seconds. Rowan reached up and touched his throat. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said.

“No bruises either. Jesus.”

Silence fell for a few seconds. “Did we . . . dream it?” Rowan asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Neil said. “I mean, evidence says yes. There’s nothing to prove that what happened last night - this morning - actually happened. But at the same time, I know it did.”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

Neil climbed out of bed. He walked over to the curtains and pulled them back. Sunlight streamed in. “What time is it?” he asked. He was still very tired, but figured he could chalk that up to how little he had slept the previous few days, and the events from that night.

“It’s just past noon. I’m amazed your aunt has left us alone this long.”

“She probably figures you deserve to sleep in on your birthday.” Neil pushed the door open and examined the railing. It was in one piece; when he reached out and pushed on it, it creaked alarmingly.

“Oh, that’s right.” Rowan let out a weak laugh. “I forgot that we had told her today is my birthday.”

Neil nodded and went back inside. “Everything’s just the way we left it before we fell asleep,” he finally said. “There’s no way to know whether or not what happened actually happened or whether or not we dreamed it. But . . . I’m not sure it matters. Either way, he’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said softly. His eyes went wide again, suddenly, and he scrambled out of bed.

“What is it?” Neil asked.

“My book - my journal - ” Rowan fumbled for it and grabbed it off the nightstand. He flipped through the pages until he reached near the end. “It’s here!” he cried triumphantly. “The entry I wrote last night, before we went out on the balcony! It’s here!”

He held the book out to Neil, who took it from his hands and read it. “This is what you wrote this morning?”

Rowan nodded eagerly. “I guess . . . whatever cleaned all this up for us wanted to leave us some sign that it had happened.”

Neil also nodded, then flopped back down on the bed. He held his arms out to Rowan, and the teenager gladly crawled back into bed with him. Neil pulled the blankets over them, and they lay in silence for a few minutes. There was a knock on the door, and they both jumped.

“Neil? You two gonna sleep all day?” Leigh’s voice drifted in. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, Leigh, c’mon in,” Neil said.

Leigh opened the door and walked in. “God, that’s so cute I’m gonna be sick,” she said, sounding very amused. “I brought you two breakfast, since I thought you might never get up otherwise. I figured I could get breakfast in bed for you at least one day.”

“Since it’s a bed and breakfast?” Neil teased.

“Oh, lay off that same old shtick,” Leigh said. “Happy birthday, Rowan,” she added, and put a tray down in front of them. It had two plates that were loaded with French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage. Along with this were two glasses of milk and a mug of coffee for Neil. “You two be good now,” she said with a wink, and left the room.

“Breakfast?” Neil offered Rowan a piece of bacon. Rowan smiled a little and ate it from his fingers. Between the two of them, they fed each other most of the breakfast Leigh had brought them. By the time they were finished, most of them were in much better moods.

“Rowan?” Neil asked, in a lull of the conversation.

“Hm?” Rowan rested his head on Neil’s shoulder. They had moved the trays down to the floor.

“Exactly what did happen yesterday?”

Rowan opened his mouth, then stopped. “Well, I - we - ” He stopped again.

“You don’t remember either?” Neil asked. “It’s weird. I’ve forgotten most of it. I remember that something happened. I remember thinking when I got up that I was glad the curtains and the door were fixed, because I didn’t know how I was going to explain that to Leigh. But now I can’t remember what happened to them.”

There was a long silence.

“Maybe . . .” Rowan said hesitantly. “Maybe we’re just not meant to remember stuff like that. The . . . the darkness . . .”

Another silence.

“What darkness?”

“I don’t know,” Rowan said, bewildered. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay,” Neil said. “I think you’re right. I think we’re not supposed to remember whatever happened last night. I think it might just be too much for us to comprehend. I know one thing, though.” He reached out and pulled Rowan into his arms, into a loose embrace. “I know that I almost lost you.”

“You didn’t, though,” Rowan said softly. “You didn’t lose me. You saved me. This time you were in time to save me.”

Neil’s arms tightened around him, and for a few minutes, they just held each other tightly.

Then Neil smiled. “Well, birthday boy,” he said. “What do you want to do today?”

“Today,” Rowan said. “Jesus. Jesus, I’m alive.” He started to laugh. “Jesus Christ, Neil, I’m alive. I didn’t die. I have . . . I have so much to do. I’m alive.” His laughter quickly turned to tears. “God, Neil, I’m still alive.”

Neil held him.

^^^^

The rest of the week, somehow, incredibly, passed without event. Leigh baked Rowan a spectacular birthday cake, and couldn’t understand why Rowan cried when he blew out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” she asked, rather perplexed.

Rowan smiled through his tears. “I can’t tell you that,” he said. “Or else it won’t come true.”

Leigh looked between Rowan and Neil, then waved her hand dismissively. “I know what you wished for anyway,” she said, and Rowan laughed and admitted that this was probably true. They spent most of the week lounging around on the beach - it was far too cold to swim - and enjoying the room’s amenities, particularly the bed.

They left Friday morning, and had decided to take two days to drive back. The way down had been a long day for Neil, and he was not anxious to repeat it without the impetus of a ghost on their tail.

“So what do you think I should do?” Rowan asked curiously, as they crossed into New York.

“Do?” Neil asked, puzzled.

“Yeah. Do. With my life.”

Neil considered it. “Whatever you want,” he finally said. “Weren’t you talking about being a journalist?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said, looking a little shy. “I like to write. But I would need to go to college for that, and I haven’t even graduated high school.”

“Please,” Neil said, rolling his eyes. “You’re smart. You could get your GED with your eyes closed and your hair on fire. And then you could apply for colleges. If you got into one the same year I graduated, we could get an apartment together, maybe.”

Rowan blushed. “I’m not sure my parents would agree to that . . .”

“Well, you’ll just have to be on your best behavior,” Neil said with a wink.

He had been joking, but Rowan took him seriously. He nodded a little and said, “I think I can be. Without the ghost around to provoke me into yelling at things that nobody else can see, I shouldn’t have any more fits or anything. And . . . I won’t try to kill myself, not ever again. I don’t want to die, not as long as I’m with you.”

“And since you’ll always be with me, that solves that problem nicely.” Neil smiled over at Rowan, who smiled back. “Seriously. Now that I’m not working full time, I think I can finish up in two more years. I’ve done most of my general classes; I just have the hard stuff, the bio and chem stuff, left.”

“Then it’s off to med school?” Rowan asked.

“Yeah.” Neil made a face. “Which will be hard, but it’s something I really want to do, which is why I’ve got to get good grades this next two years. But if you went into school then, we could get a place together, all of our own.”

“That’d be nice,” Rowan said quietly.

“You’ve got a gloomy tone,” Neil commented.

“I know,” Rowan said. “I suppose I’ll always be gloomy, no helping that.” He smiled a little. “I just . . . remember what I said a while ago, about how it’s not . . . just going to be okay, just because you’re with me?” He waited for Neil’s nod, then let out a little sigh. “I meant that. I still mean it. And just because the ghost is gone doesn’t mean I’m going to be . . . better all the time. I mean, I’m better, I’m . . . I just know that some of the things, like the way I’m so anxious and so nervous, and the way I get gloomy all the time . . . that’s not just going to change because he’s gone and you’re here. I wish it could, but . . . I guess nothing is that easy . . . what are you doing?”

“Getting off the highway,” Neil said. He had pulled into the exit lane while Rowan had been speaking.

“Why?” Rowan asked, at length.

“Because you need a hug, and I didn’t think trying it at seventy-five miles an hour was going to do much for my car’s fenders.”

“Oh,” Rowan said.

Neil pulled into the parking lot of a small diner, then leaned over and drew Rowan into his arms for a tight hug. After a moment, he let go, and tilted Rowan’s chin up so the teenager had to meet his eyes. “I love you,” he said. “And I meant what I said the first time we had this discussion, just like you meant what you said. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. I don’t care if you’re loopy beyond all reason or perfectly sane. You’re Rowan. And that makes you the only person I’ve ever loved, and ever will love. I’m not going to give you up for anything.”

Rowan’s lower lip trembled, but he did the best to hide it. “Y-You have no idea how wonderful you are,” he said, and buried his face in Neil’s shoulder.

Neil laughed softly and hugged him again. “If you think I’m as wonderful anywhere near as much as I think you are, then I can take a guess at it,” he said. “Now come on, sweetie, I think we both need some lunch. Anyway, the car’s nearly out of gas.”

“Okay.”

However, the more they drove and the further they got from Leigh’s house and what had happened there, the more Rowan started to notice something very curious.

Neil was, slowly but surely, forgetting about what had happened. Forgetting about the ghost. Forgetting about their past lives entirely.

When Rowan noticed, he cast back in his memory, and found there was no clear picture of the ghost in his mind. He could no longer remember many of the things he had said, and what had happened in the hotel room - whatever had happened - was no longer blurred; it was entirely gone.

At first, this made him a bit panicky, but then he started to relax. He had suspected that they weren’t really supposed to have remembered what had happened to them. The only reason they had was because without that, they never would have been able to deal with the obstacle the ghost had posed. Now that the ghost was gone, their memories, slowly but surely, would fade.

He smiled to himself and said nothing more about it.

“Neil?” he said, as they crossed into Connecticut.

“Hm?”

“You’ll help me become a journalist, right?”

Neil looked over and smiled at him. “Of course.”

^^^^

“Mom! I’m home!” Neil dropped his bag in the front hallway and went in search of his mother. He had dropped Rowan off at his house about fifteen minutes before, and after some quality kissing on the front step, he had reluctantly departed for his own house. He would see Rowan tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every day, as far as Neil was concerned.

“Hi, honey,” Judy said, coming out of the kitchen. She gave her son a welcome home hug and kiss. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Neil said, grinning. He hoped to high Heaven that his mother didn’t ask any questions that might get him in trouble with Rowan’s parents. Fortunately for him, his mother just gave him a knowing look.

“Make sure you write a nice note to Leigh,” she said.

“I will.” Neil waited for her to ask about how things had gone with the ghost. However, the longer they chatted amiably about how the trip had gone, the more sure he became that she was not going to - not in this conversation, or in any that might follow. She had forgotten all about the real reason they had gone to North Carolina.

Like Rowan, this did not disturb him as much as he thought it would have. In fact, he was also rather glad. The memory of his last life was something that was, in his mind, better forgotten. He would have preferred to not remember it at all, if he had been given that choice.

He remembered almost nothing now; the only thing left were some facts that he knew, but did not really recall. He remembered that there had been a previous life, and that it had ended badly - but the horror and pain of losing Rowan was gone from his mind, blotted out by whatever sympathetic power watched over them.

With rather good cheer, he helped himself to a sandwich. What was the point of dwelling on their last life when he had so much of this one ahead of him?

“Oh, by the way,” Judy said suddenly, “Steven called.”

Neil dropped his sandwich, but managed to catch it before he scattered lettuce, tomatoes, and roast beef all over the kitchen floor. “Steven as in the Steven I used to date?”

“Yes, dear, in that lifetime so many months ago,” Judy teased. “The Steven you used to date.”

“Oh. Uhm.” Neil considered this. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Well, he asked where you were and I said you’d taken a little time off. He asked when you’d be back and I said Friday. He then said to tell you that he was having a graduation party on Saturday and he’d like it if you came, but that you shouldn’t feel obligated.”

“Did he say who else would be there?” Neil asked, wondering what he should make of this invitation. “Anyone I know?”

“He said he knew you’d ask that, and to tell you that Tony and Mark would both be there, and he thinks Julie and her boyfriend are coming. He’s not sure about anyone else you know. And that you could bring Rowan if you wanted.”

“Did he actually say that?” Neil asked suspiciously.

“Yes, dear, he actually said it.”

“Huh.” Neil thought about this for a few minutes. “Okay.”

“Are you going to go?”

“Did he ask me to RSVP?”

“No . . .”

“Then give me a little time to think about it, sheesh,” Neil said. He already knew one thing: if he did decide to go, he was not going to take Rowan. It would be awkward enough, and there was really no need to drag Rowan along and make it worse. He appreciated the gesture, and he did want to be friends with Steven, but he knew that bringing Rowan was a bad idea.

He drew the crumpled cigarette pack out of his pocket and gave it a speculative look. There was one left.

“Neil,” his mother said reprovingly, “I thought you quit!”

“I did,” Neil said. He tossed the packet into the trash with the cigarette still inside. “Just now.”

^^^^

Rowan kicked his shoes off as soon as he entered the house and dropped his bags by the door of his room, calling out, “Hi, I’m home!” as he did so. Since they had called from the hotel before they had left that morning, his parents had known about what time to expect him.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said, walking into the front hallway and catching his son in a bear hug. “How was your trip?”

“It was great,” Rowan said, smiling. “It was a lot of fun.”

“Uh huh.” Jack looked at his son. “Don’t let your mother catch you smiling like that. She’ll jump to more conclusions than you can shake a stick at. Is your virtue still intact?”

Rowan blinked at him. “Define ‘virtue.’”

“Uh oh.”

“I don’t have any nasty diseases and I’m not pregnant,” Rowan said helpfully.

“Well, that’s good,” Jack said, with a surprising amount of cheer. He tousled his son’s hair and said, “Go say hi to your mother. Dave will be home in about an hour and then we’re taking you out for your birthday dinner, and when we come back you can have your present and kick all our butts at Scrabble. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Rowan said. He smiled as his father slung his arm around his shoulders and dragged him into the other room. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Here I am, safe and in one piece.”

“Good, good,” Amy said approvingly. “Did you have a good time?”

“Uh huh,” Rowan said. “But not too good a time,” he added hastily, and Jack let out a little snort behind him. Rowan did his best to suppress his fierce blush reflex and failed rather miserably.

Amy raised an eyebrow and looked skeptical.

“Never mind,” Rowan mumbled.

Jack cleared his throat. “So where do you want to go out for dinner, kid?” he asked.

“Oh, can we go out for Chinese?” Rowan asked, brightening.

“Sure,” Jack said. “Whatever you want.”

“So,” Amy said, giving her son a warm smile, “how does it feel to be eighteen?”

Rowan smiled back. “It feels great.” He shuffled for a few seconds. “Can I ask about some stuff?”

“Of course,” Amy said, looking a little perplexed. “You can ask us anything you want.”

“Okay.” Rowan took a deep breath. “I . . . I want to finish up high school,” he said. “Neil says he thinks I could get my GED without much trouble. And I want to try to go to college. Not right now,” he said, catching the look on his mother’s face. “But maybe in a year or two. I really, really want to do something with my life, not just sit around and be taken care of.”

“Oh, honey,” Amy said. “We know you want to make something of yourself. Your dad and I never doubted that. And I think college is a great idea; I just want you to be ready for it before you try it.”

“Well, I’m not packing my things,” Rowan said with a wan smile. “I think I’d be okay with living here while I went to classes, maybe at the school Neil goes to.”

Jack nodded. “School is really stressful, though. You know that. You haven’t done so well with school in the past.”

“I know, but high school,” Rowan said, in a disgusted tone like this should explain everything. In a way, it did. “I think college would be better. Especially since if I only took a couple classes a day, I wouldn’t be out of the house for so long.”

“It’s a good idea, kiddo,” Jack said. “I think you should talk about it with Dr. Leclair and . . . uh . . . whoever it is that’s your counselor now.”

Rowan snickered, as Amy looked at her husband disapprovingly. “If you can’t remember her name, I’m not telling you.”

“That’s fair,” Jack agreed.

“Honestly, you two,” Amy said, clicking her tongue.

“Uhm . . . one other thing,” Rowan said. “I want to start playing baseball again.”

They both blinked at him.

“I know it’s a bit out of left field, no pun intended,” Rowan said, to which Jack snorted, clearly believing that the pun had definitely been intended. “But I was playing some with Neil and I realized how much I missed it. I think now that I’m on some better meds, I really might be okay . . . I don’t want to play on a high school team again or anything, but maybe I could help Dave’s team out . . .”

“We’ll talk to him about it,” Amy said. “But honey, are you sure?”

Rowan nodded a little. “I’m sure. I think.”

“You sound sure,” Jack said, amused.

“I am!” Rowan said.

Jack laughed. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go get your stuff unpacked before Dave gets home and demands all the gory details of your trip.”

Rowan made a face. “I hope he doesn’t want all the gory details,” he said, but he allowed his father to pull him up and out of the room. He dragged his duffel bag into the bedroom and started taking out the clothes he had brought, dumping them into the laundry basket on the floor.

Jack closed the door and leaned against it. “Tell me something honestly, kiddo.”

“Sure,” Rowan said, although he sounded a little nervous.

“What happened to you this week?”

Rowan looked up at his father. He smiled. “Just got rid of a ghost that’d been bothering me, that’s all.”

“I hope that’s metaphorical,” Jack said, now back to sounding amused.

“Hey,” Rowan said defensively, “I’m not that psychotic.”

Jack laughed. “Okay, okay. I know damn well you’re not going to tell me what happened. You just seem different, that’s all. A lot more confident. And I’m really hoping it’s not just because you had sex, because if so, I should have thought of that ages ago and gotten you a boyfriend.”

Rowan smiled a little. “It’s okay, Dad. I just . . . went over some things, got out some stuff I needed to get out. Neil knew what he was doing.”

“You know,” Jack said thoughtfully, “sometimes I get the feeling that there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, and that there are parts of you I’m just never going to understand.”

“Dunno where you got that idea,” Rowan said calmly, unpacking the few books that he had brought. “I’m completely normal.”

“You’re absolutely crazy,” Jack said, “and I love you for it.”

Rowan looked up and smiled suddenly. “I love you too, Dad.”

^^^^

Epilogue

Well, here I am. Home, oh sweet home again. Sounds like song lyrics, but hey, maybe that’s just me back to being crazy.

Life is great.

Someone reading through this journal would probably think I have bipolar disorder on top of everything else - life sucks, life is okay, life is great - who knows what the hell I’m thinking. But that’s okay, because I’m crazy, right?

This book is at its last gasp anyway. This is gonna be the last entry that’ll fit into it, and after that I think I’ll get a new one. Maybe in that one I’ll write stuff that’s a little less crazy, and maybe I’ll even let my shrink see it. Who knows? Life is funny like that.

I’ve lived here about nine months now. I’d say that moving is the best thing that’s ever happened, except I’m not really sure that it had anything to do with what happened. Neil and I were bound to meet someday, somehow. This is just how it happened.

Everything’s a bit fuzzy in my head now. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t remember, and even more stuff that I know happened, but I can feel it fading. I’m pretty sure that Neil and I weren’t supposed to remember at all, at least no more than beyond the vague premonition that we knew each other - that we were supposed to be together.

It all got a bit messed up because of the ghost. In order to be together, we had to beat him, right? But we couldn’t beat him until we both remembered. We weren’t strong until we remembered. I’m not sure why that’s true, but I know that it is.

I’m strong enough now.

All I really remember about last time - well, is that there was a last time, to start with - and that it was pretty bad and ended horribly. But I do remember that for parts of it, we were honestly happy together. Maybe it was only for a little while, but we did have that much.

We were given a second chance by . . . well, I do believe in God, although without any of the religious bullshit and ceremony that goes on these days (given how gay I am, it’s fairly safe to say that most religions don’t do much for me). I know that someone up there gave us another chance to be together. To set the universe in order? Yeah, that too.

I remember the ghost, or at least I remember that there was a ghost. But most of what I remember is just stuff I can pick up from rereading this journal. Isn’t that strange? I don’t really remember it, I just know that it happened.

For a while I thought that maybe the ink would start to fade or something spooky like that - it always happens in the books and movies, you know - but it’s just as dark now as it is when I first wrote it, and it’s been a few weeks. I guess this will always be my record of what happened.

Maybe it’s something that I need.

But maybe not. I’m happy now, or at least content. I know I’m still pretty messed up by everything that happened. I’m jumpy and sort of skittish, and I get down a lot of the time still. But I’m not seeing things that aren’t there (not that I really ever was) and I’m not throwing shrieking fits, trying to kill myself, or getting tossed into the psych ward anymore.

I think maybe only time can heal that sort of stuff.

Well, time and love.

I tell Dr. Leclair a lot of the stuff I didn’t really tell my old shrinks. They knew about the ghost - couldn’t really help knowing - but I never told them about the stuff he said, the way he made me feel about myself. I tell her a lot of that stuff, because she’s nice and I think she can really help me.

She doesn’t mind that I won’t admit that it wasn’t real. She said that I shouldn’t lie to her, and if I thought it was real, then I should talk about it like it was real - she said that was the only way I would ever work through it. After all, I can’t come to terms with what he said and did if I’m busy trying to convince myself that it never happened. And she said it’s really important to do that, because a lot of my low self-esteem and suicidal habits and everything are because of what I heard him say and do.

The funny thing is, she’s a lot more right than she’ll ever know.

I don’t tell her everything, of course. That would just be dumb, and possibly get me thrown into the psych ward again. But I tell her a lot.

I think things are going to be okay.

Neil’s working at the library this summer, thirty hours a week, but that still leaves us lots of time to do all the stuff we want to do. He and his mother are busy cleaning up their house and getting it ready to be sold. They’re already looking at these nifty little condos on the other side of town. They’re about fifteen minutes away, but Neil says he doesn’t mind driving - and anyway, the rent and the upkeep will be a lot lower, so he won’t have to go back to working full (over) time.

I visit him sometimes at the library, when Mom has the time to drive me. It’s really nice there, quiet and smells like books. His boss doesn’t care if I sit there while he works, as long as he still gets his job done. Since his job could probably be done in his sleep, and he professes that he’s done it that way on several occasions, I don’t worry about it.

A lot of the time I feel like I’m bothering him, that he’s just putting in too much time and effort for me. But whenever I say that, he just kisses me breathless and tells me that if he spent every second of every day on me, it wouldn’t be enough for his taste.

I love it when he says things like that.

Anyway, he passed this semester with flying colors, even on top of everything else that happened. He says it was because his professors were really understanding. The rest of us say it’s because he really is just smart and it was because he was in the classes for what he’s good at. He’s signed up for next semester with a nice full load - a bunch of things like Human Anatomy two, which he says is really advanced, and weird biology classes and organic chemistry, along with his psych courses. He says this time he might bring me in for show and tell - he’s taking a seminar on counseling psychology.

I said he could, if he took me out to dinner afterwards.

He went to Steven’s graduation party, even though I knew he didn’t really want to. Well, that’s not it. He wanted to, he was just afraid of how it might go. I think it went all right, though. He moped a little, but not much. I know he still blames himself a lot for what he did to Steven - I guess I’ll try to help him with that.

It’s strange to think that I can help him with things. That in ways, he hurts as much as I do, and I can fix that. Weird, but I like it. I like helping him. I like knowing that he feels better after some things that I’ve said and done.

I’m going to try to get my high school equivalency next year. I know I’ll do abysmally at the math section, but I think I’ll do okay at the rest of it. Neil says he’ll give me some heavy duty tutoring over the summer to try to help me catch up, or at least finish up with algebra. Tutoring, hah! We barely study for twenty minutes at a time before we start making out. Mom made us start studying at the kitchen table so she could make sure we weren’t fooling around.

After that, I’m going to try for college. Who knows, maybe I can do something with this life after all. Oops, I think that was my pessimistic, self-degrading streak coming out again. Oh well, it’s my journal, everyone else can kiss my ass.

I want to start playing baseball again. Funny, but I can’t remember why. I just do.

I mentioned that I was forgetting to Neil, and he just sort of nodded. He agrees that we weren’t supposed to remember. I think he’s glad - maybe a lot more glad than I am - that we can forget. It’s funny, because I think of how hard things were for me, all that hell I lived through, but I know that it was harder for him. Hell, all I did was die - then it was over. He had to go through much more than that.

And even the bad stuff in this lifetime is fuzzy.

I know I’ll never be without him. And that’s all that really matters.

About half a page of space left. I guess with my handwriting, that’s not much at all. Well, thanks to my unknown readers, to my good old listening ear. This journal has done me a lot of good. I’ll have to call up my old shrink and tell her. This is my record, to stand witness long after I’ve forgotten everything that happened.

I think sometimes that I shouldn’t forget, that it’s important to know why Neil loves me - but then I remember that’s just my self-esteem talking again. It doesn’t matter why he loves me. He just does. And that’s all that matters. And I love him too, of course. God, do I ever love him.

It’s okay. It’s really going to be okay.

I’m still here. I’m eighteen years and three and a half weeks old, and I’m still here.

Well, I’ve gotta go. Mom’s calling, so that means Neil’s here. I’ve got a lot of life to live, you know? About time I started.

^^^^

“Honey?” Amy’s voice drifted over to Rowan’s room. “Neil’s here! He says, quote, that he’s abducting you and taking you to the beach.”

“Okay, Mom!” Rowan scribbled down a few last sentences, cramming the last words in the space underneath the line. He shut his journal and stuck it in the niche on the bookshelf where it dwelled. He shoved it just a bit too hard, and it fell off the back edge and landed behind the bookshelf, where it spent the next two years, until Rowan packed up some of his old books and it wound up in the bottom of a box for quite some time.

“I’m coming!” Rowan called. He grabbed his sneakers and left his bedroom. He did not look back.

-finis-