The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

to set, sending a shower of deep orange and pink across the sky. I look down at the water underneath
us, the surface sparkling in the fading light, and…
I’m officially not afraid anymore.
So why the hell am I afraid of the guy I’ve been dating for years? e boy who had always had a
crush on me. The boy who my mom always wanted me to give a chance.
I remember the way her face lit up when he came to the hospital to keep me company, sunflowers
clutched in his hand as he pulled up a chair next to her. I think, deep down, all my other friends were
scared to come. Scared to see someone so young wither away so quickly, a person they knew suddenly
skin and bones underneath a blanket, her own cells and body rebelling against her.
But not Matt. He came every weekend.
e second the door closed behind him one Saturday aernoon, she leaned over to say, “You really
should give that boy a chance someday, Emily. Sometimes the best romances come from the best
friendships.” She smiled over at my dad, the two sharing a knowing look. “at boy who has a crush on
you could end up being the one you’re meant to be with.”
I didn’t feel… that way about him at the time. But I liked hanging out with him. I liked the way he
narrated movies, and how he was always there for me, through crazy adventures and pranks and my
mom getting sick. So, after everything, I couldn’t help but think she must be right.
I tap my heel against the rock underneath me and let out a long sigh.
So why is it so hard? What am I so afraid of with him? What’s stopping me?
Give him a chance.
I keep thinking I am, but if I’m always halfway out the door, I can’t really be. And I know that if I
don’t fix things between us, I’ll regret it.
If I could jump o a cli, maybe, just maybe, I can face him. If I dive in completely, without
reservations, without overthinking it, maybe it’ll be the change we need. e thing that was always
missing between us was maybe just me being too scared to actually make the jump.
Maybe we always just felt off because I was never really in. Not the way mom wanted me to be.
“Thanks,” I say to Blake.
She looks over at me, the sun casting a golden glow on the skin of her face and her body. “For not
pushing you o?” she asks, reaching out to grab my arm and fake a push over the edge. I swat her away,
laughing, but then her face slowly grows serious.
“Anytime,” she says. “I think it’s cool that you’re doing the list, Emily. Jumping o clis, buying
books from old guys with impeccable mustaches. at you can still learn new things about your mom.
Still make new memories that she’s a part of.”
I let out a long exhale.
“Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget things. Like the way she smelled, or the color of her eyes, or the
sound of her laugh.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture her face. e outline of her hair. e
curve of her eyebrows. e fullness of her lips. It’s hard to piece them all together. “en I have
moments like today, you know? Where she feels so close, it’s like she’s been here all along.”
“Well, she has. In a way at least,” Blake says with a shrug. “You’re a part of her, you know? She can
never be forgotten because you exist.”
I let out a long whistle. “That was… really deep.”