Farah Rishi - I Hope You Get This Message

“In the end, I left Priti, too. Like an idiot. I think I was angry at everything. Everyone. So I went to Roswell and finally got the counseling job. Fell in love with it. But I knew Priti was right. It’s probably why I gave her my book of poems. I think I wanted to leave a piece of me behind, the way I’d totally failed to do with you. And then when I heard about Alma’s message, I realized I’d formed this big bubble around myself. I’d pushed everyone away. I had to tell Priti I was sorry, and this guy I counsel in Roswell just happened to be offering free radio broadcasts to loved ones, so…”

“A public apology. You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“What can I say?” said Leyla, shrugging. “But I guess the message worked. Except it didn’t reach Priti. It reached someone far more important.” She rested her hand on Adeem’s shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “I know my explanation’s shit, and honestly, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But I guess the universe has a weird way of pointing us in the right direction.”

“Idiot.”

“I know.”

It was strange. All the anger he’d held toward her for leaving him behind, for being so selfish, dissipated in an instant. Maybe that was the magic of siblings. They shared more than just blood, they shared roots. Home. Fighting with one was the equivalent of fighting with a more accurate mirror.

“If we survive whatever happens,” said Adeem, “we should go see Priti. If you want. I’m sure you both have a lot to talk about, and after the last time I saw her, I kind of owe her an apology. She’s, uh, probably not too far from us now.” At least, she couldn’t have gotten too far from the police station. If Cate were around, she’d probably be giving Adeem a death stare. Leyla’s eyes glistened in the dark. They were wet. “I’d like that.”

Adeem swallowed, let out a long breath.

Maybe he didn’t know what the future held, or, soon, what home would look like—what home even was anymore. But at least they were alive.

At least now, they were together.

Jesse must have passed out for a bit, because when he awoke, he was back at Tom’s radio station, propped up by pillows on the carpet. It was still dark out. Someone had taken off his jacket and laid it over him like a blanket.

The girl, Cate, immediately noticed him awaken. She was at his side in half a second.

“Are we dead?” he asked. His voice was raspy.

She chuckled. “No. Alma hasn’t killed us—yet. We still have a couple more hours until dawn, and then… who knows.”

“Good.” Jesse closed his eyes. “My mom’s at the planetarium. I want to go see her.”

And then, after a moment, he opened them again.

“Where’d you get that key chain?” he asked.

“Oh, this?” She tugged the key chain off her bag. He hadn’t hallucinated: it was a crow made of wood—walnut, maybe—and exquisitely carved. But its beak had been chipped off. “My mom gave it to me. And my dad gave it to her. He’s the guy I was talking about. Garrett. The one I’m trying to find.”

He looked at her. Searched her face.

She had Dad’s eyes. His eyes: big and round and dark. It was surreal. Was it even possible? The more Jesse searched his memories, the more he realized it was : all those “business” trips to California Dad had taken, all those promises he’d made to Mom to take her, but conveniently never fulfilling them. Who was to say he hadn’t fathered another child on one of those trips?

But then, that would mean this girl…

Jesse swallowed painfully. “What’s your name?”

Cate’s eyebrows furrowed. “Um, Cate Collins.”

“Cate Collins,” Jesse repeated, testing the name in his mouth. “I’ll remember that. What about your mom? Where is she?”

Cate looked away. “She’s home. In San Francisco.”

“You’re a long way from home, Cate.” Carefully, Jesse sat up.

“Yeah,” she said, laughing a little. There was a tinge of sadness mixed up in there. “I guess I am.”

Jesse still had the fifteen thousand dollars. More than enough for one plane ticket to San Francisco.

He made a mental note: If they were all still standing tomorrow, he’d make sure she got back to her mom. Spend some more time with his own mom, too.

He gingerly threaded his arms into his jacket sleeves.

Cate’s eyes widened in recognition. “That blackbird. It looks like mine.” She ran her finger against the patch on his pocket.

Jesse smiled. “It’s a crow, actually.” He slipped his hands in his pockets. “The family crest of one Garrett Hewitt. My dad.”

Cate looked confused. Jesse didn’t explain. Instead, he stood tall on his trembling, nervous legs. “Hey, do you think you could help me get to the hospital downtown? There’s someone I need to see.”

He wanted to see his mom. He wanted to talk to Cate more. But there was something else he had to do first.

Cate got to her feet and let him lean on her. Slowly, her face broke into a smile. “Then I guess we’d better hurry, huh?”

Jesse found Corbin in the upstairs atrium in the hospital. He was sitting on the carpet with Mari in a wheelchair beside him.

Jesse greeted her first with a small, folded-up piece of paper.

“I never had a chance to get this to you,” said Jesse. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Mari gasped. Her tiny fingers carefully unfolded the paper, as though it were a bird that could come to life in her hands.

Jesse had written out a letter from Alma, with some suggestions from Ms. K. He was pretty proud of the final product.

He glanced over at Corbin shyly.

“You’re here,” said Corbin, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

He took a seat next to Corbin, not even caring that his face was probably a mess, or that Corbin was still disappointed in him—for good reason. And Jesse tried not to think about how good it felt to see Corbin’s warm smile again. But then he took a deep breath and counted to five and let himself settle into the feeling. Let himself feel.

Corbin shifted on the floor. “Tonight’s the night.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Not gonna lie,” said Corbin, chuckling sadly. “I’m actually really scared.”

Mari said nothing; her eyes were trained on the window, staring intently at the predawn darkness.

“You think we’re not going to make it?” The thought of Corbin being worried made Jesse even more worried.

Corbin rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even know if I’m afraid of dying anymore. I just keep thinking about all the things I have left to do. All the things I have left to say.”

It didn’t seem fair that the world could end like this. Jesse felt like he’d only just begun. He actually wanted to live.

Suddenly, Corbin started to laugh. “You know our neighbors—the Jarvises? In their backyard, their son keeps this stupidly huge, twelve-foot-tall playpen he made for his cat. But Mrs. Jarvis is really big on doing catch-and-release programs for feral cats, and I guess she does animal rehabilitation once in a while, so sometimes, they use the big pen for injured wild animals. Grandpa told me they had a fox in there last year, a family of orphaned racoons a couple months before that.

“Anyway, Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis went out last night thinking, Well, if the whole catch-and-release thing works on feral cats, what if it works on other animals? Bigger animals? They met up with some guy, a vet from Indiana, staying in the tent city down by Roswell City Hall, and long story short, they and a couple volunteers caught the wolves from Spring River Zoo.

“And it’s amazing, right? What people can do. The good people can do. Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, and maybe it makes no difference in the end, but when I heard about it, I felt so… relieved, you know? I felt so bad about the poor things out there, like—like because I’m human, it’s partially my fault they were out there suffering. But now we have wolves for neighbors, and they’re chilling in the playpen, safe and growing fat on cat food until the zoo can take them back.”