NOTE: Check out this awesome & emotionally charged read of the audiobook by my co-author kaelking12! Featuring music by Boy in Space.

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CHAPTER 13

Elias

By the time I get to the chapel, I expect my mom to still be down on her knees and quietly lost in prayer.

But when I crack open the door, the sound of her laughter throws me. It's beautiful. Light. A break in her sadness like a break in the rain.

She hasn't laughed like this in a long time--and definitely not because of me. I step forward, slowly easing my way through the door so I don't do anything to ruin the moment.

And then I see her.

The reason my mom's smiling.

The reason why all the air in the room disappears along with any plans I had of doing what Dad asked me to.

I'm supposed to be halfway across the chapel by now, lifting my mom out of the pews, and finally taking her to see her son. I'm supposed to have her back with Dad before he loses his temper. But I can't move.

My chucks cement themselves to the line dividing the chapel carpet and the linoleum floor about as fast as my muscles cement themselves in place. A couple days ago, I thought a letter was all I had left of this girl. A tiny part of a thousand piece puzzle that made up her mystery.

But she's here.

No more than a couple feet in front of me, smiling and laughing with my mom like they know each other.

"So how long have you been coming here? Your parents must be very proud of you for volunteering," Mom says.

L's cheeks flush a little and she looks up at my mom. It's a simple gesture. But it's real. Totally modest. Totally beautiful.

"My parents and I used to come every weekend when I was little. My dad's still friends with a lot of the patients here. Especially the ones without families to visit them."

Mom breaks into a slow smile as the warmth of L's words settle in.

"Your father sounds like a wonderful man."

"I'm just lucky that he still puts up with me. Before my mom—"

There's a pause. A slight hitch in her voice. It's quick. My mom doesn't catch it. But I do. She backtracks and rephrases to fix a mistake. But it's not just a passing mistake in conversation. There's more to it.

"—I mean, before him and my mom got me into visiting, I was really scared of coming here."

"I can understand why. There's a lot of difficult things the doctors have to deal with everyday. You're young, it's not easy to be around all the time," Mom says.

L nods and then looks out across the nearly empty room.

"That's basically what I told my parents at first. At one point, I even went as far as saying that I'd never volunteer with them—which was ridiculous looking back at it now. I think I was so caught up in being afraid of hospitals and doctors that I was weirdly opting out of helping people who needed it. I fought with my parents a lot back then."

L pauses and stares up at sunlight spilling in through the stained glass window in the ceiling. Her eyes shimmer with the beginning of tears but she closes them before she loses herself in a moment I wish I could understand.

I've seen my mom cry so many times, always out of sadness, emptiness, despair, but this is different. The slight smile on L's lips doesn't waver or fade. It's grateful. Humble. Full of the kind of peace I've been chasing in all the wrong places.

The moment ends and she meets my mom's gaze again while I'm still stuck on trying to process what it is about this girl that has my complete and undivided attention. I try to force myself to look away from her or turn around and leave like I don't care about what she has to say. But I do.

I spent all summer talking to girls, enough to know that I usually check out of the conversation a couple seconds after they introduce themselves. But I haven't even met this girl and I'm hanging on her words like she's standing at a pulpit in the front of the room.

"Is everything alright, mija?" Mom asks.

"L" wipes the tears away from her eyes and nods.

"Yeah, sorry. I tear up really easily when it comes to my family."

"Oh me too. I don't ruin my mascara for just anybody," Mom teases.

I guess all three of us are alike that way.

"I'm very grateful to them. For keeping the faith and not losing their faith in me. Now I love coming here as much as they do," L says.

My mom reaches out and pulls her into the kind of hug that I've come to know as the definition of what love feels like.

"I'm so happy we ran into each other, mija. Thank you for praying for my son with me. You know, I have a younger boy, Elias, he's about the same age as you, and he's—"

A screw up.

A failure.

A liar.

"—a lot like you. When he was small, he used to be so scared of doing things on his own. Talking to people, meeting strangers, and especially being away from me—-"

Wow Mom.

"—My husband and I were worried that there was something wrong, but then one of his teachers approached me after school and said that Elias had started going out of his way at school to help people. He'd try to fix things, or make other students smile if they were sad or by themselves. He has a big heart, even though, now, that he's a teenager he tries to hide it—"

Do not.

"—he's bondadoso (soft-hearted). He gets that from me."

L's smile widens and lights up the whole room. My chest tightens knowing that some part of that smile was meant for me.

"He sounds like a good person."

Not as good as you.

"He is. But he worries so much about other people that sometimes it overwhelms him, you know?"

"L" nods like she understands and weirdly enough I actually believe that she does. Most people will say anything so they can come off like they care when they don't. But this girl's taking in every single one of my mom's words to heart and wearing honesty on her sleeve like she's got nothing to hide. She gets it. She gets some part of me. Which is another thing to add to the list of things I'm starting to like about her.

"My parents tell me that I worry too much too. More than is good for me. People always say my mom and I are the same in that way. That it's the Latina side of our family shining through."

Mom laughs but a buzz from her phone steals her attention away from the conversation. She digs through her purse, checks the screen, and I already know it's Dad from the way the color drains from her face.

Shit.

I should've had her out front fifteen minutes ago. Now he's probably pissed off at her because of me.

"I'm so sorry, mija. I need to go back to my husband, but it was wonderful meeting you."

Mom takes "L's" hands in hers and squeezes. The same hands I wish I was touching.

"Mucho gusto. I hope everything went well with your son's surgery."

"Me too. And if you don't mind, would you say a prayer for my younger one too?"I tilt my head a couple inches further through the door and hold my breath waiting for her answer.

She nods and smiles as my mom rises to her feet. I want to get up and stop her. I wanna beg my mom to turn back around and ask "L" the hundred thousand questions that are kicking around inside my head.

I wanna know what part of San Diego she's from, where she goes to school, and where she lives. I wanna know what makes her laugh and what makes her sad, and what scares her. I want to beg her for the last few letters in her name, but I'd look like even more of a creep than I already do right now.

Most guys have the balls to walk up to a girl and actually talk to her. Most guys don't hide behind chapel doors and eavesdrop on other people's conversations like stalkers. This girl's turning me back into that awkward, weirdo loser I've been spending the last few months burying.

The guy who stutters when he speaks.

Who's as hopeless as he is romantic.

The guy who believes in people more than he should.

But as crazy as it is, I'm starting to believe in her.

"L" finally stands up and follows my mom down the aisle until she's just a few steps away from me. I need to move. I need my eyes to do something else aside from stare at her but I'm way too far gone to stop.

I memorize her details.

The way she tucks her too thick hair behind her ear.

The way her dimples don't quite line up whenever she smiles.

The way she loses herself in a conversation to the point where nobody else in the world exists except her and the person she's talking to.

I commit every single moment of this girl to memory.

I do it because she's nice.

I do it because she's pretty.

She just is.

To me.

And just like my mom says.

If she can be both, she can't be anything but right for you.

But right now, she close.

Too close.

And I'm—

"Excuse me, sir. Are you going in?"

I turn around to find a woman around my mom's age standing behind me holding onto her son's hand like it's the only thing that's keeping her on her feet. Her eyes are sunken and hollow to the point where her heaviness rattles me. I step inside the church and hold open the door for her to let her through without answering. Without thinking about the fact that the loud creak of the hinges might draw everyone's attention to the back of the room. She thanks me as she passes and then disappears only for my mom to take her place.

She looks up at me and a new kind of excitement spreads across her face about as quickly as terror makes its way across mine.

"Oh! Eli, I was just talking about you. There's someone here I'd like you to meet! Ven aqui, carina! This is my son—"

I'm gone before she finishes. Out the door, bolting down the hallway, zooming past patient rooms until the entire hospital is a blur.

She wasn't supposed to see me.

She wasn't supposed to know my name.

And I don't know if I ever want her to.

Shit, I don't know what I want anymore.

I just need to leave.

To put a long stretch of hospital between me and her because if I'd stuck around, I would've kept wanting things.

Like a conversation.

Or a hand shake.

Or for her to look at me as intensely as she looks at people whenever she speaks.

Or for her to laugh because of something I say.

I could think up a list of a hundred thousand reasons to stay right where I was just so I could be where she is---and that's why I had to leave. 'Cause I have never wanted this much from anyone—not even Stacey-devil-woman-Brenner who I legitimately thought I was in love with for most of eighth grade.

But now there's this girl.

And she has me running like hell trying to catch up with the version of myself I was before I ran into her this morning. When the day started, I didn't have much left to hope for. And hope—is the exact reason why I need to forget her.

And forget about wanting to know her name, or who she is, and how she changes the air in the room. And the way she rocks a basic t-shirt, grass-stained jeans, and barely there make-up like she doesn't care.

I need to erase the lines I'm writing in my mind about her and rewind back to the point of the morning where she wasn't in it.

So I do.

I stop running steps away from the lobby, catch my breath, catch myself before I lose control, and pretend she doesn't exist.

Until she forces me to acknowledge that she does.

Footsteps slap against the ground behind me and I turn around to see her running past me at top speed. My lungs quit working as she gets closer, dark brown hair streaming past her shoulders, eyes wide and focused on me---I think.

Leave it to me to forget my contacts on the one day I actually need them to see.I straighten up as she closes the space between us and clear the cobwebs out of my throat so there's a higher chance of me making a sound if I actually grow the balls the speak to her.

My hand decides to make the first move before the rest of my body does and starts rising into the air to wave at her the way an awkwardly nervous seven year old would.

But before I get a chance to embarrass myself more than I already have, she passes me.She breezes by and goes flying into the arms of a guy who's waiting for her in the lobby. He's tall. Gotta be a junior at least. A messy-haired brunette who's a little on the pale and skinny side but that obviously doesn't matter to her. She disappears into his arms and he lights up like he's holding onto the whole world.

I watch them.

Trying to understand something I've never had with anyone.

Trying to come up with reasons why she'd run to him like that, and surrender to him like that when I already know the answer.

I watch them walk arm and arm down the hallway.

I watch her laugh and smile at someone else.

Lose herself in a moment with someone else.

And eventually leave with someone else.

And I tell myself to forget her.

One smile at a time.

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