Far From You

18

A YEAR AND A HALF AGO (SIXTEEN YEARS OLD)

On the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I wake up with a purple Post-it note stuck to my forehead. I pull it off, wondering how in the world she’d managed to stick it there without waking me up.

Congratulations! As of 5:15 this morning, you are officially sixteen. Proceed to your closet for part one of your surprise.

—Mina

P.S. Yes, you have to wear what I picked out. No arguments. If I leave it up to you, you’ll just wear jeans. Please, go with me on this for once. The color is perfect.

I shuffle to my closet and pull it open. She’s bought me an entire new outfit. It’s not a surprise, considering how much she complains about my fashion sense. I rub the soft jersey dress between my fingers. Its dark red color is nice, but it’s too short.

I pull it out of the closet anyway and see the note she’s taped to it.

No arguments!!!

Rolling my eyes, I layer two camisoles underneath the dress to cover the scar on my chest and pull on a pair of leggings and knee-high boots. I’m putting the finishing touches on my makeup when there’s a tap on my door.

“You awake, birthday girl?�� my dad calls.

“Morning, Dad. Come on in.”

He pushes open the door, a big smile on his face. “That’s a pretty dress,” he says. “Is it new?”

“Mina,” I explain.

Dad grins. “Speaking of Mina…” He hands me an envelope. “She sneaked in this morning. Wanted me to give you this. You girls have plans today?”

I nod. “You and Mom have me tonight,” I promise.

“Good,” Dad says. “I’ve got to get to the office. Your mom had to go in early. But there’s a surprise downstairs for you.” He ruffles my hair. “Sixteen,” he says. “Can’t believe it.”

I wait until I hear his car pull out of the driveway before I do my morning lines of Oxy.

I’m sure he wouldn’t believe that, either.

Go to the Old Mill Bridge and walk to the middle.

—M

Mina loves birthdays. Trev and I have been trying to top her for years, always failing. For my thirteenth birthday, she’d gotten my dad to help her in an elaborate ruse involving a flat tire, a clown, and a skating rink full of balloon animals. She’d spent an entire year saving for and planning Trev’s eighteenth. I’d helped her decorate his sailboat so it looked like it’d been shipwrecked. We filled it with presents, and then sailed it out to one of the little islands dotting the lake. She’d arranged for Trev to borrow a friend’s boat and texted him coordinates, sending him on a quest to find his treasure, with little chests of foil-wrapped chocolate coins marking each stop.

Now it looks like I’m in for another surprise of my own.

The Old Mill Bridge has long been closed to car traffic, with a newer, shinier version built down the river. I brush my fingers over the moss-covered bricks, looking for something that doesn’t belong.

The flash of bright color grabs my eye—a red balloon tied to one of the stone columns. I walk up and untie it, but there’s no note. I look around, expecting to see her leap out from somewhere, bounding toward me, all smiles and trickery and delight.

“Mina?” I call. I search the ground. Maybe the note fell.

But I find nothing.

My phone rings.

“You forget something?” I ask after I pick up.

“Pop the balloon,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Are you watching me?” I ask, looking around. I go to the edge and peer down the bridge, trying to find her. It feels good to lean on the solid stone railing, take the weight off my bad leg for a second.

“I’ve got binoculars and everything,” Mina says, lowering her voice, trying to make it sound dangerous and failing when she bursts out laughing.

“Stalker. Where are you?” I peer behind me, trying to spot her.

“I had to make sure no one took the balloon! I had your dad text me when you woke up.”

“You could just show yourself,” I suggest. I look down over the railing and finally spot her on the north side, down the trail near the riverbank. She’s a blur of yellow, her dress bright against the gray railing. She waves.

“Pop the balloon first, then I’ll come up,” she says.

I dig my keys out and jab the longest one into the balloon. It pops, and something small and silver falls to the ground, skittering across the pavement. I chase after it, bending down on my good knee to pick it up where it’s spun to a stop.

For a long moment, I’m silent, the ring in my hand, the phone against my ear.

“Soph? Did you get it?” Mina asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I…” My thumb swipes over the ring, over the word engraved on it. “It’s beautiful,” I say. “I love it.”

“It’s like mine,” Mina says. “We match.”

“Yeah,” I say. “We match.”

I press my thumb against the word, let it imprint on my skin.

Forever.