Mark My Words (9 page)

As humans, our survival instinct is strong. When death stares us in the face, we fight, we claw, we struggle until our very last breath. It’s why when bodies are found after being murdered, bits of flesh and blood are embedded under their nails. It’s because they wouldn’t go down without a fight. And it’s why cancer patients endure treatments that make them sick and miserable, because they’re hoping it will help them live. Give them more time on this earth.

It’s because they won’t go down without a fight.

When I first saw Lennie again, it was clear that she’d stopped fighting. But lately I’d seen a spark in her eyes, a skip in her step, that told me some of her fight had returned. And I wanted to help in any way I could.

It was why I had taken to researching melanoma. I had become obsessed with it actually. Day and night I perused the internet, scanning pictures of moles, scars, beaches, rays of sun, marred skin, tumors. And I read endless articles on the dangers of tanning beds and laying out in the sun, the importance of sunblock and annual screenings. Lennie had admitted that she had tanned, but was it fair for her to die for her decision?

No, it wasn’t. But life was like that, wasn’t it?

One wrong turn, one too many pills, one extra drink.

Life was like a walk across a frozen lake. Some people skated across with no issue, safely making it to the other side, while others fell in the icy water and had to claw their way out in order to reach solid ground. They were numb, battered, and tired, but they made it. Yet there were still others who fell in and drowned before ever reaching the other side. I knew Lennie had experienced the icy waters. She was numb and frozen, exhausted. I wasn’t sure she had it in her to keep sputtering in the icy waves. That’s why I had to help her. I would pull her from the waters, drag her to safety.

And I was sure the answer was out there.

Medicine had come a long way. So I combed website after website, sure that I’d find that hidden lifesaver. I stayed up late most nights, hunched over my laptop, my eyes blurry, my fingertips worn. But it was nothing compared to what Lennie endured, so I continued on.

One night as I searched, there was a knock on my door.

My head snapped up, my pulse quickening. Visitors weren’t common. For a moment I contemplated ignoring it. But when the knocking continued, I shoved back my chair and took deliberate steps to the front door. The volume on the knocking increased.

“Okay, okay. Hold your horses,” I muttered under my breath, and then wondered when I started using my stepdad’s phrases. Shaking my head, I turned the knob and carefully pried the door open.

“Hey.” Lennie stood in the doorway appearing uncertain. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and flipped up at the ends, and her face was scrubbed clean. She wore sweat pants and a wrinkled shirt, uggs on her feet.

“Hey,” I responded, stunned that she was here. But also confused. “How did you know where I lived?”

She cocked her head to the side, raised one brow. “You told me.”

I didn’t remember telling her, but I must have. How else would she know? Feeling like an idiot for making her stand in the hall, I stepped out of the way to allow her entry. “Come in.” I swept my arm out. It didn’t matter how she got here. She was here. This was huge.

“Thanks.” She hugged herself, her gaze scanning the room. “So this is what a bachelor pad looks like, huh?” Her words were nonchalant, but her demeanor was anything but.

I swiftly shut my laptop so she wouldn’t see all the tabs that were open. I wasn’t sure how she’d take that. With my hand resting on the laptop, I leaned into it as if this was the way I stood when trying to be casual. Not sure it worked, but she’d been around me enough to know how awkward I was. If it hadn’t scared her away yet, then I was doing all right.

“What’s going on, Lennie? Are you okay?”

Her back was to me, her hands rubbing her upper arms in a swift, agitated motion. When she swung around there were tears in her eyes. Her shoulders shook. I didn’t waste any time before rushing to her. Without waiting for permission, I gathered her in my arms. Besides, I had no reason to think she would push me away. She came here. Clearly she wanted to be with me.

“I’m scared,” she whispered into my chest, tears soaking the front of my shirt.

I held her tighter, stroked her hair. It was slightly damp, so it stuck to my fingers, melded into my palm. But I didn’t wipe it off. It didn’t bother me. Sobs racked her body, and my heart pinched. A part of me wanted to know what was going on, while another part of me hoped she never told me. Clearly it wasn’t good.

I could only think of one thing that would make her cry like this, and the mere thought of it killed me.

After several more minutes of crying, she drew back and peered up at me. A few strands of hair adhered to her lashes, like spiderwebs weaving over her face. She blinked rapidly. Reaching down, I gently tugged them free. Then I slowly rubbed my fingertips over her tears, wiping away the traces of them. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird. Its wings rippled along my insides. I brought my hands up, tunneling them through her hair as I titled my head downward. She lifted herself up on her tip-toes, clutching me tightly around my waist. Our lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice. Like the whisper of pages in a book as they’re turned. Her lips were moist and tasted like salty tears. I licked along them, savoring the silkiness. Then I pulled my tongue back and pressed my lips delicately to hers. I didn’t want the kiss to be intense. Not like our last one. No, this one needed to be soft, slow. I wanted to feel every caress, every touch. I wanted to memorize it; tuck it away for later.

But mostly, I wanted to erase her pain. Take away her sadness. Breathe it in. Inhale it. Bury it deep.

After a few more tender kisses, I exerted slightly more pressure to her top lip. Strands of her hair wove around my fingers as I massaged my hands into her scalp. When my bottom lip pressed down firmly, a low moan sounded at the back of her throat. This spurred me on. I kissed with more fervor, my tongue escaping my mouth and tangling with hers. She tasted like something sweet - strawberries, sugar, candy. I couldn’t place it, but it made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the kiss that was making me dizzy.

Her hands were moving from around my waist, her fingers teasing the bottom of my shirt. When they slipped beneath it, I inhaled sharply. Not just because they were ice cold either. Mostly because I loved the feeling of her hands on my bare flesh. I wasn’t fit, or even in shape. My chest was not rippled with muscles the way her ex-fiancé’s was in their pictures. In fact, it’s safe to say mine may have even been concave. But the way her palms and fingers explored every inch of it made me feel like it was something special. Something to be treasured. She skimmed my flesh until goosebumps rose on my skin. Until I felt as if I would burn up from the inside out.

Our kiss became more manic, her breathing erratic. I untangled my fingers from her hair and trailed them down her neck and arms. When I got down by her waist, I imagined sliding my fingers under her shirt, the way she had done to me. My fingertips buzzed with anticipation. In my mind, I envisioned what the skin on her stomach would look like. What kind of bra she’d be wearing. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly it was hard to focus. Gathering courage, I touched the edge of her top. Then I froze.

I couldn’t do it.

Not tonight.

Not when she was so sad.

I yanked my hand back as if her shirt was on fire. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Lennie’s lips tore from mine. She dropped her hands and stared up at me wide-eyed. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling violently.

Lifting my hand, I cupped her face. “Tell me what happened tonight? Why are you so sad?”

She bit her lip, and it took all my willpower not to kiss her again. “Tomorrow morning I have to go in for an MRI.”

That was it?

The confusion I felt must have registered on my face, because she said, “The MRI is to find out if the treatment is working. If my tumor has shrunk.” Stepping back, she ran a hand through her hair. Now it practically stuck straight up. I watched as it eventually fell back into place. “I’ve been feeling better, and so I’ve started to tell myself that it’s because I am getting better. That the tumor is shrinking. But tomorrow is the moment of truth. I’ll know for sure. So if it’s not shrinking, I’ll have to face it. I won’t be able to live in blissful ignorance anymore.”

“Yeah.” I reached for her, tugging her back to me. “But if it has shrunk, then you’ll know for sure that you’re getting better.”

“True.” Her lips wavered. “I know it doesn’t seem rational, but I was just overcome with fear tonight. I couldn’t shake it. I was just sitting in my room at home, feeling so anxious and overwhelmed. It was the same way I felt when I first found out about the cancer.” She shook her head. “It was so weird because I haven’t felt that way for so long.”

“What changed now?’

Her gaze crashed into mine. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” She rested a hand on the edge of my waist. “You’ve given me something to live for. You’ve given me hope.”

My insides warmed. Drawing her close, I wrapped my arms around her.

“Can I stay here tonight,” she murmured into my chest. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded, my chin rubbing against the crown of her head.

“Thank you,” she responded in that soft, lyrical voice of hers. She pulled back, wiping her eyes. A yawn escaped through her heart-shaped lips.

I wasn’t ready for her to go to bed. I wanted more time with her. “Wanna watch some TV?”

“Sure.”

Together we made our way to the couch. I plunked down, reaching the remote. Lennie sat on the other side, tucking her legs up under her body. I flicked on the television, and it roared to life. The commercial blared so loudly, I hurriedly turned down the volume. Why did commercials always have to be so much louder than the actual show? Not knowing what she liked, I held the remote out to her.

“Here. You pick something.”

She grinned, tentatively taking the remote. “Wow. Rob never let me have the remote. He was scared I’d choose some mindless sitcom, or even worse, a reality show.”

The more she talked about this guy, the more I disliked him. “I’m good with whatever you choose.”

Settling back against the couch cushions, she flipped through the cable menu before choosing a rerun of Friends. “Is this okay?”

Not that she needed my approval. I meant what I said. She could watch whatever she wanted. But I knew that wouldn’t be good enough for her, so I nodded. Holding the remote in her hands, she looked at me with a quizzical expression. “Do you need to work?”

“What?” The question came out of left field.

“It seemed like when I got here that maybe you’d been writing beforehand. I don’t want to take you away from your writing time. You can go work on it if you need to.”

I glanced back at my laptop, the lid securely closed. Guilt racked me at the memory of what I was actually doing when she got here. Not that it was wrong. Researching a successful treatment for Lennie was nothing to be ashamed of. But the truth was, that I hadn’t really been working on my book lately. It had taken a backseat to Lennie and her disease. I had gotten so far in the book, but the last week or so I’d been distracted.

However, tonight wasn’t about my book. It was about Lennie.

“No, I don’t have to write,” I answered her.

Wearing a satisfied grin, she leaned forward and set the remote down on the coffee table in front of us. It was then that I realized how cluttered it was. Magazines, empty soda cans and crumpled up pieces of paper were strewn across the glass top. My face heated up with embarrassment. I was about to stand and swiftly clean it up when Lennie scooted in my direction. She leaned up against me like she wanted to cuddle, and I froze. This night kept getting better and better. Adjusting my position, I curved my body so it fit against hers. Sighing, she rested her head against my chest. I dropped my arm, clutching her to me.

For awhile we watched the show. Sometimes she would laugh or giggle. But pretty soon she was still and quiet, her breathing even. Her eyes closed, her lashes resting on her porcelain skin. I didn’t have the heart to move, afraid I would wake her. So I watched her sleep until I started to get tired myself. Then I rested my head against the side of the couch and closed my eyes.

I awoke to sounds of a scuffle. Grunting, punching, hitting, flailing, screaming. And it wasn’t coming from upstairs. My eyelids flipped open, my heart rate kicking into high gear. The noises were loud, close. In this very room. Once my eyes focused and my gaze had swept the area around me, my heart slowed, relief washing over me. It was only the TV. Why had I fallen asleep on the couch with the television going? I never did that.

Feeling a heaviness on my chest, I peered down. Blue light flickered over the girl lying in my arms. My stomach tightened
. Sarah? What was she doing here?
Frozen, I stared down at her blond hair, her slender body. I couldn’t see her face because it was turned in the other direction. I found it difficult to draw breath. How was this even possible? It was like she was a ghost sent here to torment me.

I needed her gone. I needed to get her out of here before anyone found out.

Strands of her hair were stuck to my hands. What the hell? When I lifted them, my palms were wet and sticky. Was that blood?

My pulse pounded at the base of my neck. The sound of gunfire from the television caused me to flinch.

I squeezed my eyes shut.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening again. Not again.

She stirred, murmuring in her sleep. I opened my eyes. Her face was upturned now, her lips parted as she breathed evenly.
Lennie?
Oh, that’s right. The memories flooded me of Lennie coming over last night because she was scared about her MRI. I exhaled, my whole body relaxing. Not Sarah. Lennie.

Lennie was here.

And everything was all right.

Satisfied, my heart slowed a little. I stared at Lennie’s beautiful face in the dim lighting, in awe over every little detail. After several minutes exhaustion took over and my head rolled to the side, resting against the cushions. Eventually I fell back asleep to the soundtrack of Lennie’s even breathing.

When I woke up in the morning, Lennie was gone. Vanished, as if she’d never been here. The TV was still on, chatter and canned laughter playing softly. Light spilled in through the windows to my left. My entire body ached from sleeping curled up on the couch. Hoisting myself up to a seated position, I rolled my neck, stretched my arms. Still my shoulders were tense, my back throbbing, my arms numb. Yawning, I stood. With several large strides, I made it to the TV and clicked it off. Glorious silence blanketed me.

I’d never been one of those people who enjoyed unnecessary noise. Growing up I’d had friends who would have the TV going in the background all of the time, especially when they were alone. As if the actors on the shows could keep them company. I didn’t get it.

Padding into the kitchen, I passed the table where my laptop sat. It was closed, untouched. My eyes subconsciously scanned the table and kitchen counter for any signs of her. A note maybe. But there was nothing.

The only remnant she left was her scent, which still lingered in the air. I inhaled sharply, savoring it before it could disintegrate.

I was pondering why she would leave so early when my gaze bounced to the clock on the wall, and I saw that I overslept. I guess there was no reason to get up early when Lennie was already here. With her in my arms, my internal clock must have shut off.

Remembering the medical test she was so nervous for, shame washed over me. I should’ve gotten up with her. I should have taken her to the hospital. What kind of guy made her go through this alone?

Purpose renewed, I got ready as quickly as humanly possible. Then I headed out, racing to the hospital. I had no idea what time her appointment was or even where it was. But I knew she was having an MRI, so I was sure someone could direct me.

After parking, I weaved through the lot and walked right through the glass double doors. Once inside, the sterile scent filled my nostrils. Two nurses walked in my direction, their pants rustling with each stride. I spotted a doctor a few feet away wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck. My body went hot, my throat dry.

The walls bent around me, the room starting to spin.

“Colin, we need to talk,” The doctor said.

I shook my head.

No, no, no. I don’t want to hear it.

Pressing my palms to my ears, I attempted to block out the sounds, but it was no use. They weren’t coming from outside.

“Sir, are you okay?” A woman’s voice cut into my thoughts.

I was acting like a lunatic.

I had to get out of here.

Blinking profusely, I yanked myself back to the present. The room came into focus. It was still blurry at the edges, though. I took large gulps of air to combat my shallow breathing.

“Sir?” The woman repeated.

“Yes!” I practically shouted. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Spinning around, I blindly staggered outisde. It wasn’t until I was safely at my car that I felt my chest expand and air fill my lungs.

I wanted so badly to be there for Lennie, but I couldn’t. Not if it involved the hospital. Anything else she needed, I was her guy. But not this. Not now. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever. It may have been a long time ago, but the memories were fresh, ripe, as if it had just happened. Weird how certain events were like that. Instead of dulling over time, they became more vivid.

With shaking fingers, I turned on my car. Then I pulled out of the lot. As I drove away from the hospital, I had to alternately wipe my palms on my thighs because they were so slick they couldn’t grip the steering wheel. Not sure if I could make it all the way home, I parked along the curb outside of the coffee shop. I didn’t have my laptop, but it was all right, because I wasn’t sure I was in the right frame of mind to work anyway. Perhaps a coffee would settle my nerves. I knew it sounded odd, since coffee was supposed to amp you up. But I’d found that coffee could do both for me. Give me energy when I was tired, but calm me when I was anxious.

Besides, I figured Lennie might stop by the coffee shop after her appointment. If that was the case, I wanted to catch her. To find out how it went. To console her if need be.

So I went inside and ordered a coffee. The largest size they had. Then I sat at a table in the corner. Leaning back in the chair, I stared out the window and sipped the coffee. I forced myself to think of other things. Anything besides the memories that threatened to overtake me. I honed in on the wind as it brushed the window, at the signs that waved in the breeze from the building next door. I listened to the women talking at the table behind mine as they complained about their husbands. They went on and on about how their husbands didn’t help enough with the kids, how they didn’t do dishes or put the toilet seat down. It was nauseating, really. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I tuned them out. Instead, I focused on the whir of the espresso machine, and the names the barista called out, some unique and different, others predictable. Like a coffee connoisseur, I allowed the coffee to linger on my tongue, attempting to detect all the flavors the menu boasted of – citrus, chocolate, floral. And pretty soon, the sick feeling that had taken root in my belly when I set foot in the hospital finally waned. I didn’t feel scared or worried. I felt safe and calm.

Finishing up my coffee, I watched the glass doors waiting for Lennie to step through them. She never did, and eventually I gave up. It had been hours since she left my apartment, so I assumed her test was over. Most likely she’d gone straight home. Reaching into my pocket, I fished around for my phone, deciding to give her a call. But my phone wasn’t in either pocket. Thinking, I pictured it sitting on the kitchen table next to my laptop.

Crap. What if she’d been trying to reach me?

Standing up, I felt like a failure on so many levels. I’d promised to be there for Lennie, and yet today I hadn’t been there for her at all. After leaving the coffee shop, I headed for home all the while thinking of ways to make it up to her. 

When I reached my apartment the first thing I did was check my phone. There were no missed calls. This should have bothered me, but honestly it didn’t. It was better this way. Now I could show her that I’d been thinking about her all on my own. Not simply responding to her call.

After dialing her number, I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Colin,” she answered, sounding tired.

“Hey,” I responded. “How did it go today?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?” I pressed, wanting more.

“Yeah,” she said in a tone I couldn’t read, and it caused my stomach to knot. “I mean, I don’t know anything yet. I won’t for a couple of days.”

Ah, okay.
“You were gone when I woke up.”

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

This made me smile. “But you should’ve. I would’ve gone with you.” It was a lie, but she didn’t have to know that. No reason for her to know all the ways I’d failed her today.

“I know, but it was fine. Nothing I haven’t done before.”

The hopelessness in her tone made me sad. Darkness blanketed me, her statement driving it all home. She shouldn’t have to do it. She should be able to live her life. To enjoy each moment. But cancer was robbing her of that. Her full-time job was to keep herself alive. That’s all she lived for. And it didn’t seem fair. I didn’t understand why some people had to go through this. Why her? Why any of us?

I doubted I would ever receive the answer to that question, and that only made me angrier.