You Are Not Here
SAMANTHA SCHUTZ
FOR ADRIENNE GLASSER AND WIN ROSENFELD
THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR STORIES,
BUT EVEN MORE SO FOR BEING INCREDIBLY
STRONG INDIVIDUALS AND A BRILLIANT COUPLE.
Contents
Cover
Dedication
I walk down my block
Part One
If I do not sleep
Morning light streams in my window
This is how I found out
Idiopathic hypertrophic subaortic stenosis
I wonder
Brian and I met
Our first date
At home, I can’t stop
We had our first kiss
I’ve never been to a funeral
It’s getting late
Brian is the only person
After my shower
Marissa is waiting for me
Marissa and I
Marissa slips her arm in mine
Marissa only met Brian twice
All eyes are on Brian
I want to see Brian
Marissa’s arm is linked with mine
Throughout the service
I put my head on Marissa’s shoulder
The one time
People are standing
When Marissa and I walk out of the church
When the priest is done
There are ghosts in this house
Marissa gets up to go to the bathroom
Brian’s dad is sitting on the deck
I want to get away from all these strangers
I had been waiting
Not including the day Brian died
It bothers me that I can’t remember
I can’t
The last time Marissa and I talked
Marissa comes back from the bathroom
On the way upstairs to my bedroom
Every day at Sacred Heart Hospital
This time
I wake up a little while later
I look down at the postcard
At home
The last time I talked to Joy
I’ve been trying to sleep for hours
It doesn’t make sense
“Hey. It’s Marissa
I leave the house
The second night after Brian’s funeral
Part Two
I had a dream last night
It takes a lot of harassing texts
IHSS is caused by abnormal growth
It’s been six days
I’m trying to decide what is worse
On the seventh day
The dirt on Brian’s grave is pretty uneven
As I walk home I realize
In bed, I cannot sleep
I visit Brian again the next day
After talking to Brian
I have so much tension in my face
Parker texts me
A while ago
The “death book”
I finally dreamed of Brian
I feel
It’s 3:47 a.m. and I can’t sleep
After sitting with Brian this afternoon
I don’t
It’s not always easy
I’m not sure I understand the point
I wonder if I can somehow
Things feel different
Sitting and talking to Brian
Joy calls
At 6:30 p.m., my mom comes downstairs
The next week
The death book wants me
I wonder how it would look
Marissa stops by unannounced
I wear my favorite sundress
In bed, I cannot sleep
There is a pain
The death book taught me
Sitting with Brian is too quiet
“You can’t just lie here all day”
I am thankful that Brian
I’m telling Brian
I have cornflakes
What would it be like if I had died
I walk down my block
I had a dream
Sitting on the bench
The death book wants me
Fireflies blink
All this thinking about death
As I am walking past the church
I don’t have to wait
In bed, I cannot sleep
Lewis Armin
The death book wants me
I’m getting sick
At home I am as furious
Part Three
I walk through the door at Renzo’s
The next morning
On the way to Renzo’s
Pizza Boy is behind the counter again
“So I went to Renzo’s”
Ethan is behind the counter
The answer to the question
I am sweeping
I sit with Brian and tell him about work
I’m wiping down table six
Seeing Marissa’s shock
Joy texts back immediately
On the way to work
I dream
“Who’s that guy?” Joy asks
“I wonder
The death book wants me
Here we go again
Somewhere in between
“Whoa. Look at you”
I am too tired
Sometimes I catch myself
The death book wants me
Ethan and I are last to leave work
“So that was Ethan
I don’t know why
Was Peter telling me about Sarah
I shut my eyes
At work the next day I say
In bed, I cannot sleep
It’s hard not to speak to someone
Before, I didn’t have anything to say
I decide to call
Marissa and I agree
The movie is perfect
As a kid, there were a few times
As we are paying the check
Instead of going home
“Back so soon?” Brian’s grandmother asks
I cannot control
I slide a napkin across the counter
The death book wants me
“Do you want it to be more?”
Sitting next to Ethan
There is this one page in the death book
Ethan and I both have the afternoon off
My body buzzes
At the party, I find Ethan
After hanging out for a little while
The death book wants me
It feels a little ridiculous
I had to be ready
I need to remind myself
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Titles Available From PUSH
Copyright
I walk down my block
and then take a right turn.
Two more blocks
and I’ll be with Brian.
For the first time
in a long time,
I know he’ll be there
waiting for me.
I sit down on the grass next to him.
He has flowers,
but I know they’re not for me.
I wonder who gave them to him,
but I don’t ask.
I tell Brian about my day.
I say, “I saw your dad
at the supermarket.
I didn’t talk to him—
it’s not like he knows who I am,
and even if he did,
I wouldn’t know what to say.
I watched him
take things off the shelves,
look them over,
and then put them back.
There was almost nothing
in his cart.
I wonder if he’s always been like that,
or just lately.”
I say, “I miss you.”
I ask if he’s missed me too,
then wait for his answer.
If that squirrel runs up that tree,
then his answer is yes.
If it stays on the grass,
his answer is no.
The squirrel doesn’t move,
and my breath catches in my throat.
it zips up the tree.
I smile and lie down
next to Brian.
I wish he could hold me
like he used to,
but he doesn’t.
The warm sun makes me drowsy
and I fall asleep on my side
next to Brian.
When I wake up, grass is imprinted
on my arm and leg.
I brush myself off,
but Brian doesn’t move.
I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I reach out to touch him,
and my fingers make contact
with words:
BRIAN DENNIS
DIED AGE SEVENTEEN
BELOVED SON AND FRIEND
Part One
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
I need this night
to last forever.
I need it to go on
because once I fall asleep,
it will be tomorrow.
It will be the day
of Brian’s funeral.
And I can’t do that.
I can’t see that.
I can’t feel that.
My eyes are burning.
They want to seal shut.
They want a break from crying.
My body is sore from tensing,
and it wants release.
It wants the softness of sleep,
but I cannot give it that.
I cannot
let that happen.
I cannot
go from today to tomorrow.
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
If I do not sleep,
it will not come.
I repeat these nine words
like a mantra.
I try to hold on to them
like worry beads,
like a rosary,
but instead of keeping me focused
they are lulling
me to sleep.
If I do not
sleep it will
not come if I
do not sleep
it will not
come if I do
not sleep it
will not come if
I do not
sleep
it
will
not
come.
Morning light streams in my window.
The air in here is stale.
I need to get out.
Marissa will be here in an hour,
but I can’t wait that long.
On my way out of the house,
I pass my mother’s bedroom.
Her door is open.
Her bed is perfectly made,
unslept in.
Outside, the late June air
is heavy and hot,
but it’s better than in my room.
I’m not sure where I’m going,
but when my flip-flops hit the sidewalk,
I know.
I walk down the street
and take a right turn.
I go two more blocks
and find myself at the cemetery.
It doesn’t take long before I hear it—
the sound of dirt and rock
sliding against metal shovels.
There are men digging Brian’s grave.
They are digging a hole
in the cool earth, on a hot day
for the boy who has occupied
my thoughts and my heart
for the boy I lost
my virginity to,
for the boy I think I loved.
I’ve heard these guys dig before.
I’ve heard these guys talking,
but today I want to scream
them into silence.
I want to tell them
to have some respect
and not talk
about everyday things,
like how hot it is
or how much more
they have to dig.
This
is not
every day.
This is how I found out:
I was watching a special about the pyramids
when my cell phone vibrated angrily
against my dresser.
I looked at the phone and was surprised
to see Marissa’s name.
I flipped open my phone
and cautiously said,
“Hey…what’s up?”
“I have to tell you something.
It’s about Brian,” Marissa answered.
There was something
about how she said it
that made me think
she was finally going to apologize
and say she had been wrong about him.
But instead she said,
“Something happened today
while Brian was playing basketball.”
An injury, I figured;
he had a broken leg or something.
But what was with all the drama?
And why was she
calling to tell me?
We hadn’t talked in weeks.
Marissa said, “No one knows
exactly what happened yet.
But he died, Annaleah.
I am so sorry.
I hate that I am the one
telling you this.
Especially after…”
I stopped listening.
My whole body was shuddering.
Uncontrollable.
“What?” I said.
It was the only thing
I could say.
“My dad was walking the dog
by the playground
and saw an ambulance.
He asked who was hurt
and they told him it was a teenager
named Brian Dennis,
and that he had suddenly died.
My dad came home and asked me
if I knew who Brian was.”
“What?” I said again.
“He collapsed on the court.
The paramedics said
he died on the spot.
There was nothing
they could do.”
Not possible, I thought.
Brian was healthy.
Seventeen.
Just finished his junior year.
How could he be playing
basketball one minute
and then be dead the next?
How could there be no in-between?
No treatment.
No drugs.
No surgery.
No hope.
No nothing.
Not possible.
“Annaleah, are you still there?”
“Uh-huh.”
I couldn’t even make real words.
I thought, I need to call someone.
I need more information.
But who could I call?
Brian and I didn’t have
the same friends.
I could call Joy or Parker,
to tell them what happened,
but they didn’t know Brian
other than from my stories.
I could call my mom, but I never
told her Brian and I
were together.
I could call Brian’s house
to see if his parents knew more,
but I bet the last thing they’d want