Every Day

“One second,” I say. I run upstairs and find it in his closet—a bag festooned with Post-its, each of them filled in with something his parents have said to him over the years, from A is for Apple to Always remember to check your blind spot. And this is just the wrapping. When I bring the bag down to Mr. and Mrs. Lin, they open it to find ten hours of music for their ten-hour drive, as well as cookies Alexander has baked for them.

Alexander’s father wraps him in a thankful hug, and Alexander’s mother joins in.

For a moment, I forget who I really am.

Alexander’s locker is also covered in Post-it quotes, in a rainbow of handwritings. His best friend, Mickey, comes by and offers him half a muffin—the bottom half, because Mickey only likes the tops.

Mickey starts telling me about Greg, a boy he’s apparently had a crush on for ages—ages meaning at least three weeks. I feel the perverse desire to tell Mickey about Rhiannon, who is only two towns away. I access and find that Alexander doesn’t have any crushes himself at the moment, but if he did, they’d be female. Mickey doesn’t pry too much about this. And quickly other friends find them, and the talk turns to an upcoming Battle of the Bands. Apparently, Alexander is playing in at least three of the entrants, including Mickey’s band. He’s that kind of guy, always willing to chip in with some music.

As the day progresses, I can’t help but feel that Alexander is the kind of person I try to be. But part of what makes his personality work is his ability to stick around, to be there day in and day out for people. His friends rely on him, and he relies on them—the simple balance on which so many lives are built.

I decide to make sure that this is true. I zone out of math class and tune in instead to Alexander’s memories. The way I access him, it’s like turning on a hundred televisions at the same time, I’m seeing so many parts of him at once. The good memories. The hard memories.

His friend Cara is telling him she’s pregnant. He is not the father, but she trusts him more than she does the father. His father doesn’t want him to spend so much time on the guitar, tells him music is a dead-end calling. He drinks his third can of Red Bull, trying to finish a paper at four in the morning because he was out with friends until one. He is climbing the ladder of a tree house. He is failing his driver’s test and fighting back tears when the instructor tells him. He is alone in his room, playing the same tune over and over again on an acoustic guitar, trying to figure out what it means. Ginny Dulles is breaking up with him, saying it’s just that she likes him as a friend, when the truth is that she likes Brandon Rogers more. He is on a swing set, six years old, going higher and higher until he is convinced this is it, this is the time he will fly. He is slipping money into Mickey’s wallet while Mickey isn’t looking, so later on Mickey will be able to pay his share of the check. He is dressed as the Tin Man on Halloween. His mother has burned her hand on the stove and he doesn’t know what to do. The first morning he has his license, he drives to the ocean to watch the sunrise. He is the only one there.

I stop there. I stop at this. I lurch back into myself. I don’t know if I can do this.

I can’t block out the temptation that Poole offered: If I could stay in this life, would I? Every time I pose the question to myself, I get knocked back into my own life from Alexander’s. I get ideas, and once they take hold, I can’t stop them.

What if there really was a way to stay?

Every person is a possibility. The hopeless romantics feel it most acutely, but even for others, the only way to keep going is to see every person as a possibility. The more I see the Alexander that the world reflects back at him, the more of a possibility he seems. His possibility is grounded in the things that mean the most to me. Kindness. Creativity. Engagement in the world. Engagement in the possibilities of the people around him.

The day is nearly half over. I only have a short time to figure out what to do with Alexander’s possibilities.

The clock always ticks. There are times you don’t hear it, and there are times that you do.

I email Nathan and ask him for Poole’s email address. I get a quick response. I email Poole a few simple questions.

I get another quick response.

I email Rhiannon and tell her I’m going to come by this afternoon.

I say it’s important.

She tells me she’ll be there.

Alexander has to tell Mickey that he can’t make their band practice after school.

“Hot date?” Mickey asks, joking.

Alexander smiles mischievously and leaves it at that.

Rhiannon is waiting for me at the bookstore. It’s become our place.

She knows me when I walk through the door. Her eyes follow me as I come closer. She doesn’t smile, but I do. I am so grateful to see her.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says.