Draw Me In (35 page)

I
knew.

The
cancer was back. It had spread. Those percentages he
’
d built his life around were probably
even lower now, if the additional scars were any indication. I didn
’
t know, and truthfully, it didn
’
t matter.

All
that mattered was that I was 100% certain I loved this man.

If
we only had five years together or five months or even just five minutes, I
would take it. His battle was now my battle, whether he intended that to be the
case or not. I wasn
’
t
about to let him fight alone. Selfish bastard for thinking he could do it by
himself anyway. This girl wouldn
’
t
sit in the bunker when the man she loved was out on the front lines. Had he forgotten
how incredibly skilled I was with a slingshot? I was completely ready and
beyond willing to take up this fight with Leo. We were going to kick cancer
’
s booty together one treatment at a
time.

I
laughed to myself and hoped he didn
’
t
see. I don
’
t
think he did. He was doing that thing where you looked up at the ceiling to
keep your tears tucked behind your eyelids. You would think it would break my
heart to see him like this, and in a way it did, but at the same time I could
feel the shattered pieces of it fitting back together.

I
started to draw.

That
back I
’
d
sketched earlier lacked any real emotion so I scrapped it altogether. Leo was
more than this physically perfect man. My drawing had to depict that.

For
the next half hour I duplicated him on the page. When my pencil dug into the
paper to carve out his incisions and the stitches bound around them, I could
feel the tightening in my chest and the strain in my brow. My body physically
hurt to recreate his hurt. Just like with Ian and that impulsive tattoo
session, it was painful to see someone else in pain.

But
sometimes, in hurting alongside someone, it also took a little of that pain
away. I hoped that
’
s
what I was doing with Leo. I hoped I could take just an ounce of it from him.

After
about thirty more minutes, Professor Seyforth broke into our focus with a soft
clearing of her throat.
“
Thank
you, Mr. Carducci, for being today
’
s
model. Class, let
’
s
show our appreciation for Leo, shall we?
”
she nodded toward us, beginning a slow clap.

Everyone
joined in, and I did as well, though I felt like a machine, just applauding
because I was programmed to. Because what I really wanted to do was walk up to
him and kiss away each tear that stained his face in a trail of salt. I wanted
to press my lips to each mark on his chest and torso and neck. I wanted to wrap
my arms around his body and curl into him to physically transfer his pain to
myself, absorbing him, absorbing it.

But
I couldn
’
t
do that here. So I just gave him a small smile, one that was probably more
visible in my eyes than on my lips.

Leo
returned it with his own and mouthed,
“
I
’
m so sorry.
”

I
huffed a silent laugh. He said it like he actually had something to do with it.

None
of this was his fault. The cancer, the need to hide, the feeling that he had to
protect me from this newest reality.

I
’
d already forgiven him for it all,
hadn
’
t
he known that? It was a newly-developed fault of mine.

Leo
stood from the stool and pulled his shirt back over his head. He winced as his
stomach contracted and he shut his eyes. Then, just as suddenly as he came into
the room, he slipped out of it. The creak of the door sent chills across my
scalp and I shuddered. I wanted to race after him, but there was still fifteen
minutes left in class. I couldn
’
t
go now. But I supposed he knew that.

And
maybe he needed the time to himself. I
’
d
give him that space, but if he needed anymore after that, he was out of luck. I
wasn
’
t
going to be easy to get rid of anymore. I
’
d
like to see him try.

“
Would any volunteers like to share their
piece?
”
our professor asked. She looked out across the room over the top of her
glasses. I
’
d
already started tucking my supplies back into my bag. I decided to keep them
there. I had no intention of sharing with the class. I
’
d just spent the past hour sharing
Leo. That felt like enough for one day.
“
Just
stand and tell us the name of your work first.
”

“
I
’
ll go,
”
a guy with piercings and staples and
hooks and bars jutting out of every exposed patch of skin said. He scooted his
chair back and lifted his paper from the desk, tucking his wispy hair behind
his ear. His image was dark, nearly the entire surface coated in deep shadows
and severe lines. Leo
’
s
body looked more geometric than fluid and the lightning bolt-like cuts that
crossed over the page made me cower and want to look away. I did. I couldn
’
t help myself.
“
I call it
Cutting Board
.
”

“
Very nice interpretation, Colton.
”
It was nice? There was nothing nice
about it. It was horribly graphic and sensationalized and made me want to tear
it to shreds or rip out a few of Colton
’
s
piercings just so he could feel a little pain for himself. Had he never been
hurt before?
“
Anyone
else?
”

Four
or five other students rose from their seats to share their sketches. Titles
like
Wounded
and
Broken Body
and
Unlikely Victim
filtered out of their mouths as they held up their drawings that coincided
with those words. Some of them clearly knew who Leo was; others might have only
seen him in the most recent edition of
Modern
Matters
. But it didn
’
t
matter. No one knew him like I did.

Though
I
’
d already put everything away, I
couldn
’
t
let this gross misrepresentation of Leo go on any longer. It just wasn
’
t right. I lifted my hand up and
Professor Seyforth nodded my direction.

“
Julie,
”
she said, waving me on.
“
Go right ahead.
”

I
pulled in a breath that filled my lungs and then blew it out through my mouth.
My paper shook between my fingers and my voice rattled with a similar
vibration. There was a tear balancing at the corner of my eye that I was
determined to keep there, but as my voice shook out of me, it slid down my
face. I sniffed and said,
“
This
is my interpretation and I call it
My
David, My Warrior
.
”
Just as impulsively as I
’
d
popped up, I hunkered back into my seat and kept my eyes down.

“
It
’
s beautiful, Julie.
”

A
couple other students nodded, probably just to kiss up because the majority of
the class remained silent. Confused possibly. Maybe questioning my sanity and
stability. Some looked like they expected me to have an emotional breakdown of
sorts as several more of my tears joined the first renegade one.

But
the class was wrong in waiting for that to happen. I
’
d already been broken down
emotionally.

This
was me being put back together, couldn
’
t
they see that?

Maybe
not, because sometimes
—
more
often than not
—
life
wasn
’
t
always what it seemed.

In
fact, I didn
’
t
think it ever was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Another
dark lock twisted to the ground.

I
tried not to look at it because if I angled my head any direction other than
directly forward, Ian would yell at me again. He
’
d already done more yelling than a
Little League dad benched on the sidelines during playoffs. My ears sort of
hurt from all of it
—
and
my feelings too
—
so
I chose not to budge.

“
You sure you want to do this?
”
he asked once more, but if he were
to stop right now, it would be a serious hack job. The scissors were suspended
just over my scalp.

“
Didn
’
t I already tell you?
”
I tried to keep still, but it was
impossible at this point. That first glass of wine buzzed through my
bloodstream. I scooped the hairbrush from the bathroom counter and thrust it
toward my mouth as I sang,
“
I
’
m bringing pixie
baaaaack
...them other girls don
’
t know how to
acccct
...
”

Joshua,
who had been in the kitchen cleaning up dinner, shouted out over the hum of the
dishwasher,
“
Take
it to the chorus!
”

“
Go on hair,
go ahead be gone with it
,
”
I continued, channeling my best Justin Timberlake circa 2009. Ian wasn
’
t amused.
“
Comb it to the back,
go ahead be gone with it
.
”
Unfortunately, even my best attempt
was just an extremely mediocre karaoke version. A girl could try. And a drunk
girl could try even harder. I gave it my all.
“
Get your pixie on,
go ahead be gone with it.
Get your pixie
on.
”

Joshua
stood in the doorway, as if he heard my body
’
s unspoken plea for more alcohol. He
held out another round.
“
VIP?
”

“
Go
ahead be gone with it
,
”
I echoed through my doubled-over
laughter.

“
Drinks on me,
”
he smiled while he stretched out two
glasses of wine, one for me and one for Ian.

“
I
’
m gonna make both of you go ahead and
be gone if you don
’
t
stop singing and finally start holding still for me, Julie.
”

I
’
d pissed him off. It was never a good
idea to piss someone off when they had two sharp, pointy blades this close to
your head. This could turn into the shower scene from
Psycho
all too quickly.

“
I
’
m sorry.
”

Ian
rolled his eyes and snipped a lock from my hair.
“
It
’
s okay. But in all seriousness, you
are sure you want me to do this?
”
There went another six inches tumbling to the floor.

“
Yes.
”
I took a sip of the Chianti in my
glass.
“
I
am. Take it all off!
”

“
How about we just take
some
of it off? I think you can get the
same point across without going for the skinhead look.
”

I
was fine with that. The reality of it was that I probably shouldn
’
t be making such rash decisions like
this based on impulsive emotion and desire, but that
’
s clearly what Leo had done. He chose
to physically show me his story. My choice was to do the same.

“
If we
’
re a go, I think I can shape this
into a pretty damn good hairstyle.
”
Ian
’
s
eyes met mine in our reflective image in the mirror. His eyebrows jumped into
his hairline and he said excitedly,
“
Audrey
Hepburn meets Halle Berry meets Charlize Theron but completely runs away from
Miley Cyrus.
”

“
We
’
re a go!
”
I shouted, lifting my class in the
air.
“
Let
’
s
do
this!
”

So
we did. For about two hours. That
’
s
how long it took for Ian to chop off the good majority of my hair and then work
the remaining length into an adorable pixie cut that framed my face remarkably
well. Those long bangs that had been in the awkward, in-between growing out
stage were brought up closer to my hairline, and the left side remained
slightly longer than the right, creating an asymmetry that was both flirty and
feminine.

I
looked hot. For once, I could emphatically say that. Ian done good.

“
All finished here,
”
he said, sweeping the mess of hair
into a dustpan. He tossed the thick clumps into the waste bin and swiped his
hands over each other, a satisfied gesture.
“
Joshua and I are going to meet up
with some friends for drinks. Wanna join?
”

“
Nah, Pixie and I are gonna hang low
tonight.
”
I actually had hopes of meeting up with a friend of my own, but I hadn
’
t received a confirmation text. If
Leo decided to go dark like before, I
’
d
enlist the involvement of the NYPD and their searchlights to scope him out if I
had to. I wasn
’
t
going to let him get away from me again.
“
Thanks
for the invite though.
”

“
Anytime.
”

“
And Ian?
”
He swiveled back toward me at my
call.
“
Thanks
for always humoring me,
”
I smiled, because he did. I wrapped my arms around my roommate and planted my
cheek onto his solid chest. I truly adored his guy.
“
You
’
re too good to me, Ian. From tattoos
to hairdos, you put up with a lot.
”

“
It
’
s easy to put up with stuff when you
love someone, Jules.
”
That was sweet. Just another reason why Ian was, and always would be, my
right-hand man.
“
Be
good tonight. We
’
ll
be back later.
”

“
I will and have fun!
”

I
followed them through the apartment and shooed them out the door like a mother
hen pushing her chicks out of the roost. I bolted the lock behind them and
turned to the empty room.

It
was quiet.

I
docked my phone and turned on a little more Justin to keep me company.

Still
no messages.
Curses.

I
waited another hour before I gave up hope and adjusted my expectations for the
night. It wasn
’
t
like things went wrong, but sometimes life playing out any way other than your
wildest dreams felt like a letdown. My wildest dream right now was for Leo to
show up on my doorstep in a fireman suit, all six seasons of
Gossip Girl
and a golden retriever puppy
because I
’
d
always wanted one and was deprived as a child. And maybe not the whole fireman
suit, maybe just the pants and the suspenders. Come to think of it, who needed
pants?

The
startling rap on the door snapped me out of my dream that was quickly becoming
a smutty soap opera script. Scrap
Gossip
Girl
. I wanted to watch
this
soap
opera unfold.

Without
hesitation, I raced to the door and flung the handle open so quickly it slammed
into the wall and even our windows rattled. But they were old and did that a
lot.

“
Damn,
”
I sighed.
“
No puppy.
”

Leo
cocked his head.
“
I
’
m not sure what that means, but I did
bring you this.
”
He reached his arm out toward me, pushing a cup with a pink mixture that looked
like lots of unidentifiable melted slush toward me.
“
It
’
s the closest thing to gelato I could
find in the city.
”
His eyes combed over me.
“
Your
hair looks beautiful, by the way.
”

“
It
’
s a statement.
”
I ran my nails along my scalp. When
I came to the end of each strand, my fingers stopped short, like I could feel
the phantom ghost of the hair that was there before. This would take some
getting used to. But I supposed that was the case for any adjustment in life.

“
And what statement are you trying to
make exactly?
”
Leo edged his way around me and invited himself into my home. I would
’
ve liked to invite him into a few
other places within it if that didn
’
t
make me seem completely anxious and possibly desperate. Instead I just pointed
to the futon. We both sat down and he put the gelato on the coffee table before
looking back at me, expectantly.

I
was waiting for him to speak, and he was waiting for me. Which led to silence,
like when you rolled up to a stop sign at the same time as another car and waved
them forward, but they also waved you, so it became this really awkward back
and forth of both of you almost going but not quite, until one person decided
to just gun it and go for it, hoping to avoid the crash.

I
pressed my foot to the gas.

“
So I get that it
’
s back.
”
Air huffed between his lips when I
said it. Desperation etched into the tired lines on his face like my words
somehow drew them there.
“
And
I
’
m in this battle with you, Leo. So if
you
’
re
gonna lose your hair, I
’
m
losing mine too.
”

Laughter
wasn
’
t
what I expected to come out of him. It made me nervous, quite honestly, and I
did that weird thing where you joined and attempted a fake laugh because it was
less awkward than just sitting there like you didn
’
t know what was happening. Even
though you truly had no clue.

“
I
’
m not going to lose my hair, Julie.
”
Leo scooted closer on the futon cushion.
Our knees touched. He cautiously lifted his hand to slide his fingers into my
now much shorter hair.
“
There
’
s no chemo involved this time. They
signed me up for some clinical trial that they
’
ve seen some recent successes with.
”

“
This is me being the queen of jumping
to conclusions once again then, isn
’
t
it?
”

His
eyes slivered.
“
What
other conclusions did you jump to?
”

“
Oh, you know,
”
I began casually as I shrugged my
shoulders. It made me nervous being this close to him again.
“
The conclusion that you hated me and
tried to ship me halfway across the world just to get away from me. That one.
And the other one where you hired a hot intern to take my place and order your
coffee.
”
Insecurity didn
’
t
look as good on me as my new hairstyle, and I hoped he wasn
’
t as repulsed by it as I felt saying
it.

“
So I met this girl
—”

“
That
’
s not where I envisioned this going.
”

“
Just let me finish.
”
Leo pressed his index finger to my
mouth. I licked it.
“
Did
you just lick my finger?
”
He slunk back and held it up to his face to see if I had, indeed, licked him.
There was a shiny patch of my saliva on the pad of his finger.