I could, but not between them. Between us. Every time we were together. All day. Even during class, all I could think about was being alone with him in the sound booth, with his hands on my waist and his fingers on the back of my neck and his mouth on mine.
You awake? I typed.
As I stared at the screen, waiting for him to answer, I thought about the excited expression on Alyssa’s face in the car that day, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. And then a second, much larger wave crashed into me when I thought about the look on Beth’s face in that picture I’d only seen once.
I knew this whole thing was wrong. But as soon as my phone screen lit up with a new message, the water calmed and the waves disappeared, and Aaron was there, making my heart beat and my face beam and my toes curl. Making me feel like someone cared about me and I wasn’t so completely alone.
Aaron: Yeah. Hi.
Hannah: Hi.
Hannah: I can’t sleep.
I thought about the way he sat behind me on the stairs the day before, the way he moved my hair to one side and slid his thumb across my skin.
“What are we doing here?” I’d asked. But he never really answered me.
Hannah: Question for you.
I typed it fast so I wouldn’t chicken out.
Aaron: Shoot.
Hannah: You know that thing that happened that you said would never happen again?
There was a long delay. Finally, he replied.
Aaron: Yeah.
It took me a long time to gather my nerve. My heart was racing as I stared at the screen. Aaron was waiting. It was too late now. I’d started this and I had to keep going.
Hannah: Are you sure it won’t happen again?
He answered right away.
Aaron: No.
I kicked at my covers and squealed into my pillow.
Hannah: Good.
Aaron: See you tomorrow.
Tomorrow. I scrolled back to the top of the screen. I was reading the exchange again when I heard a tap on my bedroom window. I raced to the curtain, pulled it to one side, and looked down. I could see someone standing in the dirt below.
I slid the window open and stuck my head outside. “Emory?”
“No. It’s Luke.”
“Luke?” I asked sharply. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped into the sliver of light coming from the streetlamp. “I have to talk to you.” He pointed toward my front door, and then stepped out from between the bushes and disappeared around the corner.
I zipped up my sweatshirt and tiptoed down the hall.
“Hi.” He was wearing his Foothill High jacket, rubbing his hands together to warm them. “I would have texted you, but I don’t have your number.”
I gave the street a paranoid glance. “Where did you park?”
“Under the streetlamp. Where I always do.” He gestured toward my kitchen window.
I felt a surge of adrenaline rush though me. I was sneaking a guy into my room in the middle of the night, and it was kind of exciting, breaking the rules like that. I’d been watching Luke sneak into Emory’s house for months, wondering what that would be like.
I looked over my shoulder to be sure my parents hadn’t heard us, and then brought my finger to my lips. “Shh…Follow me.” We padded down the hall and slipped into my bedroom. “What are you doing here?” I asked again.
“I snuck out. I had to show you something.” He sat on the edge of my bed and whipped his phone from his pocket. “I’ve been doing research on NDEs.” I must have looked confused, because he added, “Near-death experiences. Check it out.” He angled the phone toward me. “There are millions of people like me. Their stories are all over the Internet, all these people who died and came back.”
He opened his Notes app and pushed his phone into my hands. I scrolled through a long list of names along with what they saw when they died: Bright light. Open field. Tunnel and light. Jesus. Fire. Childhood puppy. Grandmother.
He grinned as he elbowed me. “I’m bummed about that one. I didn’t see my grandma, and I was totally her favorite.”
He was in a good mood. Better than he was the last two times I’d seen him.
“What are all these links?”
“Their videos.” He combed his fingers through his hair like he was trying to find the right words. “They’ve all recorded their stories, right, but none of them match what happened to me. I keep looking for one that explains it, you know?”
I stared at him. “Why is that so important to you?”
He sighed. “It just is. I tried to tell Emory again last night, but every time I try to talk to her, she looks at me like I’m nuts. She doesn’t want to hear any of this, you know? She doesn’t want to think about me dying, and she doesn’t want me to think about me dying, and she seems to believe that if I don’t talk about it, eventually I’ll forget the whole thing and—”
“Everything will go back to normal,” I said, finishing his sentence.
He nodded. “Exactly. But…that’s the thing. I don’t want to forget what happened. I don’t want to go back to normal. And I don’t want to be the person I was. It was like your dad said the other day: My soul woke up. And now I’m different. I know more. I feel more.” He stood and started pacing the room.
“After I left the church yesterday, I couldn’t stand the idea of going back to my house, so I drove right past my exit, and before I knew it I was getting on PCH. I just kept driving, and soon I was at the ocean.
“I sat there for the longest time, thinking about my conversation with your dad, and I started to realize that I’ve been spending all my time watching videos and trying to figure out what happened to me through these strangers’ stories, but it isn’t working. I need to tell my story. I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll forget all the little details, you know?” He pressed his fingertips into his temples. “I don’t want to forget.”
His words made me think about something I stumbled on while I was doing my research the night before. “The soul has been given its own ears to hear things the mind does not understand,” I said.
He nodded. “Nice. Is that a Bible quote or something?”
“No. Actually it’s Rumi.”
“Rumi?”
“He’s a Muslim poet.”
“Oh.”
“Look,” I said. “I barely knew you before. I have no connection to the old Luke, so that person you were doesn’t matter to me. Tell me what you saw.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure, you can.”
He looked around, taking in the things on my walls. He looked at the cross that hung next to my door, and the shelving unit filled with books and framed photos of me and my friends.
“Not here,” he said. “Not now. But trust me, if I could tell anyone, it would be you.”
That made me smile. And it gave me an idea.
“I run almost every day,” I said. “I take the same route, and I always end my run at this one spot at the top of a hill. There’s this big boulder, and I love to climb to the top and just sit there…thinking and watching the world below. Do you have a place like that?”
“Do I have a pet rock?” he said sarcastically. “Um, no.” And then he got serious. “I drive. I turn up my music as loud as it can go and I drive until I find a place where I can stop, like I did yesterday.”
It was a good answer, but it wasn’t really what I had in mind. “You need a room or something. A place that makes you feel safe. Someplace quiet and peaceful where you can be alone.”
He thought about it. “Actually, I liked being in your church. That room felt like that to me. For the first time in a week, my thoughts didn’t feel overwhelming and terrifying.”
It was perfect. The church would be quiet.
“What if we made a video? Not to post or anything…Just for you.” He was listening, so I went on. “You said you were afraid you’d forget. If you have it recorded, when the experience starts to fade, you can watch it and remember all those lit
tle details. And you could show it to Emory. That way, you could tell her without really telling her.”
He thought about it for a few moments.
“I can help. Our choir director has a professional video camera. He could shoot it for you.” Luke looked panicked, so I backpedaled. “Or, you could just drive somewhere quiet, prop up your phone on the dashboard, and make it all by yourself. You don’t need me there.”
But I kind of wished he needed me there.
“When?” he asked.
“Whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
Luke thought about it for a long time. I was sure he was going to pass.
“Meet you around the corner under the streetlight at the same time tomorrow,” he said.
Luke and I met on a Friday night during the last week of our junior year.
He and his friends stopped by the diner. My friends and I had already been there for hours. He kept looking over at our table, and when I pointed it out, Charlotte dared me to go over and talk to him.
I’d never been one to pass on a dare, so I jumped up from my seat in the corner of the booth and onto the table, stepping over french fry baskets, coffee cups, and half-eaten cheesecake, while the waitress shot me dirty looks from a few tables away. I landed on the floor with a thud and walked straight over to him. I asked if he wanted to join us, and he stood and let me take his hand like I already knew him. I led him back to our booth. Everyone made room so he could squeeze in next to me.
“I’m Luke Calletti,” he said. I already knew that.
“Emory Kern.”
We shook hands. He had dark curly hair, piercing green eyes, and full lips. When he spoke, I watched them, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. He was cute. Really cute. “What school do you go to?” he asked.
“Yours,” I said, still staring at his mouth.
“Then why don’t I know you?”
I shrugged as if I didn’t know the answer, but I did: Same school. Different worlds.
After an hour or so, his friends left to go to a party, but he stayed with me. And we kept talking. Then my friends left to go home, but I stayed with him. And we kept talking. And soon, it was just the two of us, sitting alone in the booth, picking at the last piece of apple pie and sipping black coffee while his phone buzzed and chirped on the table.
“I see you have that app that sends nonstop alerts so you’ll look super popular to girls you’re trying to impress,” I said.
He grinned. “My friends are wondering where I am.” He silenced the phone and flipped it upside down on the table, hiding the screen.
“You should go to your party.”
“Only if you’ll come with me.”
“I’m not really into parties. But I’ll take a ride home if it’s on the way.”
We left the diner together and walked to the Foothill High student lot.
“That’s mine,” he said, pointing at a lonely red Jetta parked in the back by the tennis courts.
It was only three blocks to my house, but we talked the whole way, and when Luke pulled into my driveway, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked. “My mom’s working late tonight.”
“And your dad?”
“Lives in Chicago.”
He followed me inside. We sat next to each other on the living room couch, innocently at first, but then he leaned in to kiss me, and that was all it took. We sank deeper into the couch while I stole glances at the door, prepared to push him off me and leap back into my spot the second I heard Mom’s key working the dead bolt. But I lost myself in his mouth on mine and his hands on my skin, and before I knew it, I was asking him if he had a condom. I silently scolded myself for being so impulsive, but then I decided I didn’t care. In that moment, I wanted him and he wanted me, and I didn’t feel like stopping, so I didn’t.
Afterward, when I kissed him goodnight on the porch, he pulled away and looked at me. And then he smiled and said, “I think I’m in big trouble, Emory Kern.”
It made me laugh. I came up on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and looked him right in the eye. “You are in so much trouble.”
He raised his eyebrows. “This is going to be fun.”
“The time of your life, I’m guessing.”
I pushed my body against his and kissed him harder. It felt like we’d known each other for months, even though we didn’t really know each other at all. I pulled away and looked up at him. “Hey, I just want you to know that…I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve had one boyfriend. We were together for about six months. Until tonight, I’ve never slept with anyone but him.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips. I wasn’t sure why I was telling him that. It wasn’t really his business. And it shouldn’t have mattered. It’s not like a guy would have justified a one-night stand that way. But for some reason, I kept talking. “I’m impulsive, but I’m not usually that impulsive. I just…really like you.”
He kissed me again. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I really like you, too.” We kissed under the porch light for a long time. I was afraid if we kept going, I might suggest sneaking him into my room for the night and letting him hide in my closet. Mom had been so distracted with her new boyfriend and her catering business, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed he was there.
But then his phone buzzed and he checked the screen. “My mom,” he said. “I’m late.” He kissed my forehead. “She can’t sleep until I get home, so I’d better put her out of her misery.”
I melted. As if he could be more adorable.
“Hey, I have an idea,” he said. “Want to have one of those cheesy eighties movie summer romances?”
I laughed. “Yes, I do.”
“Good.” He gave me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. We’ll be a total cliché and go to the beach.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been at the church so late at night. Everything looked different. Quiet. Peaceful. I wrapped my fingers around the back of the last pew and squeezed hard. I still loved this room, but it didn’t feel like it used to. It didn’t make me feel special, or touched, or inspired. I wasn’t awestruck, and for a moment, that filled me with sadness. I didn’t want this room to feel like any other room.
We started down the aisle toward the stage, and when Luke and I were halfway there, the side door opened. Aaron stepped onto the stage holding a bunch of recording gear in his hands.
He set everything down on the brown mahogany bench and met us at the bottom of the steps. The two of them shook hands, and Aaron waved toward the stage. “I grabbed a bunch of stuff. Boom mics, lav mics—” He gestured toward all the equipment. “But this is your show, you just tell me what you feel most comfortable with.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with any of this,” Luke said as he let out a nervous laugh. “I guess we should just get started before I lose my nerve, and I’ll figure it out as I go along.”
Aaron reached for the lav mic. “Let’s start with this.” He pinned it to Luke’s T-shirt, snaked the cord around his waist, and clipped the battery pack to his jeans. “How’s that?”
“Good,” Luke said. “Thanks.”
Aaron started setting up the tripod.
“Where do you want to sit?” I asked Luke.
His gaze traveled around the room like he was taking it all in, from the narrow, stained-glass windows evenly spaced along the walls, to the huge metal cross that hung over the baptistry. Then he walked to the edge of the stage, sat down on the top step, brought his elbows to his knees, and rested his head in his hands.
“You don’t have to do this, okay?” It was true, but still, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made a mistake bringing him here, calling Aaron, and making it a bigger deal than it needed to be.
“Actually”—he looked up and scanned the room—“I think I like it right here.”
“On the step?” I asked, and Luke nodded.
I turned around to look at Aaron, motioning
to the video recorder, silently showing him where to set it up. “Perfect. Then I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go turn on the stage lights.”
“No,” Luke said decisively. “I like it this way.” When Aaron explained that the camera wouldn’t be able to see him very well, Luke said, “That’s kind of the whole idea.”
Aaron quietly set up the tripod, off to the side, so Luke was in profile, and then he called me over. He stepped to one side so I could see the screen.
I wondered if Aaron was jealous. I secretly hoped he was.
Luke’s face was in shadow. I could make out his features, but unless you knew who he was, you probably wouldn’t be able to identify him. It was perfect. That was the way he wanted it. I peeked over the top of the camera. “Do you want to check it out first?” I asked him.
“Nope,” he said plainly. “I trust you.”
Aaron asked him to test the mic, and when Luke said, “Testing, testing,” I could hear his voice shake.
“Okay,” Aaron said as he pressed the record button. “We’re rolling, but no rush. And I’ll be editing this, so don’t worry about how it sounds. I’ll cut out any pauses, or anything you don’t like, so take your time.”
The room was so silent, I could hear myself breathe.
Luke looked right into the camera. “Hi. My name is Luke.”
I moved to the side so I could watch the real Luke and not the one on the tiny screen.
“To be honest, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this.” He shifted in place and looked up at me. “I feel like an idiot, Hannah.”
“You’re thinking about it way too much. Pretend you’re alone. It’s just you and the camera.”
Luke pointed to the first pew, where I sat every Monday morning next to Alyssa, Jack, and Logan. “Maybe it would be easier if I could see you.”
“Oh, okay.” I crossed the room and sat a few feet away, in front of him but out of the camera’s shot. He leaned back, resting his forearms against the stage, already looking a little more comfortable. He took a deep breath and blew it out hard.
“Hi,” he repeated. “My name is Luke. And, well, I died eleven days ago.” He laughed a little as he said it. “I was dead for three minutes. Three minutes probably doesn’t seem like a long time, but it is. Go ahead, set the timer on your phone for three minutes, and don’t do anything. Just sit there. I’ve done that myself about a hundred times since…” He trailed off. And then he shot me a questioning look.