It Ends with Us

Chapter Eleven
I curl up in my bed and stare at it.
I’m almost finished with it. There aren’t very many more entries.
I pick up the journal and place it on the pillow beside me.
“I’m not going to read you,” I whisper.
Although, if I read what’s left, I’ll be finished. Having seen Atlas tonight
and knowing he has a girlfriend and a job and more than likely a home is
enough closure I need on that chapter. And if I just finish the damn
journal, I can put it back in the shoebox and never have to open it again.
I finally pick it up and roll onto my back. “Ellen DeGeneres, you are
such a bitch.”
Dear Ellen,
“Just keep swimming.”
Recognize that quote, Ellen? It’s what Dory says to Marlin in Finding Nemo.
“Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”
I’m not a huge fan of cartoons, but I’ll give you props for that one. I like cartoons
that can make you laugh, but also make you feel something. After today, I think
that’s my favorite cartoon. Because I’ve been feeling like drowning lately, and
sometimes people need a reminder that they just need to keep swimming.
Atlas got sick. Like really sick.
He’s been crawling through my window and sleeping on the floor for a few nights
in a row now, but last night, I knew something was wrong as soon as I looked at
him. It was a Sunday, so I hadn’t seen him since the night before, but he looked
awful. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was pale, and even though it was cold, his
hair was sweaty. I didn’t even ask if he was feeling okay, I already knew he wasn’t.
I put my hand on his forehead and he was so hot, I almost yelled for my mother.
He said, “I’ll be fine, Lily,” and then he started to make his pallet on the floor. I
told him to wait there and then I went to the kitchen and poured him a glass of
water. I found some medicine in the cabinet. It was flu medicine and I wasn’t even
sure if that’s what was wrong with him, but I made him take some anyway.

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He laid there on the floor, curled up into a ball, when, about half an hour later
he said, “Lily? I think I’m gonna need a trash can.”
I jumped up and grabbed the trash can from under my desk and knelt down in
front of him. As soon as I set it down, he hunched over it and started throwing up.
God, I felt bad for him. Being so sick and not having a bathroom or a bed or a
house or a mother. All he had was me and I didn’t even know what to do for him.
When he was finished, I made him drink some water and then I told him to get
on the bed. He refused, but I wasn’t having it. I put the trash can on the floor next
to the bed and made him move to the bed.
He was so hot and shaking so bad I was just scared to leave him on the floor. I
laid down next to him and every hour for the next six hours he continued getting
sick. I kept having to take the trash can to the bathroom to empty it out. I’m not
gonna lie, it was gross. The grossest night I’ve ever had, but what else could I do?
He needed me to help him and I was all he had.
When it came time for him to leave my room this morning, I told him to go back
to his house and I’d be over to check on him before school. I’m surprised he even had
the energy to crawl out of my window. I left the trash can next to my bed and waited
for my mom to come wake me up. When she did, she saw the trash can and
immediately held her hand to my forehead. “Lily, are you okay?”
I groaned and shook my head. “No. I was up all night sick. I think it’s over now,