“No,” he nearly growled, giving me a shake.
“It’s not in the cards for me. It never has been.”
Frustrated, he let go of me and stood pacing. With his palms pressed over his ears, he started repeating, “I’m not listening to this.”
I jumped up, cutting short one of his determined strides.
“Please, Wes. I’m barely holding it together. I just don’t want to hope for the wrong thing.”
“Shut up, Sophie!”
My whole body flinched at the sharpness of his tone. That was the first time he’d ever spoken to me that way, and it completely shocked me.
“Wes.”
“No, you listen to me,” he said with his finger in my face, “I am not going to give up on you.”
I instinctively took a step backwards, hoping the distance would clear my head for a response.
“But why does that make you angry?” I asked.
Sighing heavily, “Because, after everything we’ve been through, you’ve only made me fall for you more than I can practically stand, and now you want to give up on me.”
What?
“No, that’s not what I mean. I just don’t want to lose sight of the bigger picture. It’s not about me.”
“It’s all about you,” he countered. “Don’t you understand? I’ve done everything I can to carry on Dr. Thomas and Amelia’s wishes. But what about me? My whole life has been so lonely. So lonely. So if you care about me at all, you’ll stop talking about my purpose, and let me help you.”
A tear was about to fall from his right eye, but before I could respond, he stepped around me, leaving me alone in the study.
For several moments, my legs were too weak to move. I felt alone and clueless. This was madness. I was only eighteen. All of the pressure was catching up to me. We were just kids. The past didn’t justify me having to jump on a fast track to maturity.
I almost wished I could rewind time. Go back to that day in September when all I had to worry about was listening to my Zune and turning in my assignments on time. How stress-free my life was! But now? Meeting Wes, finding out about his secret, finding out about my past, surviving a kidnapping, making it through Wes’ own fiasco, and now, fighting the tick-tocking sounds of my life.
Not to mention the pressure of Wes and his purpose and trying to find out where “we” fit into it, or if there should even be a “we.”
Frustrated, I plopped back down onto the couch and closed my eyes. So much pressure in such a short time. So much. I wanted to cry. Why couldn’t things be normal?
Still, I couldn’t ignore the other new feeling I’d been experiencing. Love. Not just I-want-to-write-his-name-on-my-notebook love. Well, I’d probably do that, too, but bigger love. An I’d-give-up-everything-just-to-feel-it-for-one-more-minute love. A healthy love. Healthy because as much as I was willing to give up for him, I knew he’d give it all back and more.
I opened my eyes and exhaled a long breath. The box was still sitting on the couch, calling to me. The next picture I took out was of Amelia and Wes. It took my breath away. She was in her nursing uniform, leaning over the bed where Wes lay covered up to his chest in blankets.
He wasn’t smiling, but had a look of contentment that said, “I was having a good time with her until you interrupted. But okay, take your picture.” Amelia, on the other hand, was beaming.
I turned it over and saw the date: Feb. 1917. Wow. This was right about the time Wes had said he was adjusting to his transfusion. Hot and cold flashes, time lapses. All of it foreign to him, and Amelia had been there, helping him through it, reading poetry and conversing. And oh, it was so clear that she adored him. I wondered if he ever knew how much.
I was sure he spent the next forty years second-guessing her feelings for him and wondering if he’d shown her enough appreciation for what she did for him. The wonder turned into a search for the next batch of photos.
I had yet to see any pictures of Lenny, but I knew without a doubt they would be in the box.
I sifted through a few envelopes that looked like letters from his mother and a few more pictures of him with his father when he was younger. Toward the bottom, I found the pictures I was looking for. Tucked the furthest away, suggesting that they were the most difficult for him to see, were those of him and Lenny.
In the first picture, she was eating an ice-cream cone at what looked like a carnival. Her smile matched Amelia’s. Clearly, she was beyond happy. The next picture was of her and Wes, and it was obvious from the angle of her arm that she had taken it herself. Surely forcing him to join her in a picture. This time Wes was smiling, but in a laughing sort of way, and her smile was as thrilled as it had been in the first picture.
I pondered the photos of Amelia and Lenny. I knew Amelia loved Wes, that was obvious, but her excitement seemed to stem from his well-being. She was so happy he was alive.
Lenny’s smile was the same, but according to Wes, she didn’t know about his secret or his past. That only meant that her joy was strictly from being with him. No matter what her father forbade, she loved him completely.
I wondered what my pictures would look like. In the one I gave him for Christmas, taken of us at the bookstore by Dawn, I remembered being happy. But I don’t think I was as free-spirited as any of the young women staring back at me.
In my picture, I had been worried that he’d pick up on the purpose of the picture (one of his Christmas presents). Not to mention that it was early in our relationship. I was happy, but held so many reservations. I knew things Lenny didn’t, I told myself. That was why she looked so carefree.
It wasn’t because I loved him less. It was because I was too busy worrying over everything. Just like now. I wanted more than anything to relieve my burdens and be happy, without fear. I wanted it so much, and knew we couldn’t get it without help.
I walked through the house searching for Wes. He wasn’t upstairs, in the main area, or the kitchen. The next natural place to look would be in the basement, possibly swimming, but a gut feeling told me I’d find him in the dining room.
Sitting exactly where I thought, he was staring up at the abstract painting. I sat on his lap gently and kissed his cheek.
“I never could tell if this was a happy picture or not,” he whispered.
I sighed, not even needing to look at it, because I remembered it well. “Yesterday, it would have been sad. Today,” I turned his face toward me, “it’s happy.”
His eyebrows rose in response and his gaze searched mine. “Remember the old Sophie who told you that we can’t live in fear?”
He nodded, the bridge of his nose leaning into my neck. “Well, she’s back,” I said flatly.
He pulled back, looking at me. “And she’s not quitting.”
Before he could respond, I kissed him, pressing myself closer to his chest, so he’d know I wasn’t expecting a reply.
Chapter 20
THE MISSING LINK
Two weeks after the girl attacked me, I tested negative again. It was a good sign, everyone said. To me, it didn’t matter. I was pretty much one hundred percent sure it would eventually come back positive, so I didn’t let myself get too relaxed. Instead, I focused on making sure I lived every day the way I wanted.
The following Friday night, Wes came over to explain our pasts to my mom and Tom, and I was a nervous wreck.
I’d dressed up like we were headed out for a first date and needed my mom’s approval. It was ridiculous, but how else do you mentally prepare yourself for something so huge?
The doorbell rang at 4:30, which was way early. I knew he was anxious, but not anxious enough to arrive an hour early. My mom and Tom were already downstairs completely unaware of the bomb we were about to drop, but I figured they could answer the door until my sweaty palms calmed down enough. In less than a minute, I heard my name.
“Yes?” I yelled.
“Come here, please,” my mom called.
I hadn’t planned on leaving Wes down there for long,
but for her to call me as soon as he came in was weird. She’d at least offer him a glass of something first. “Coming!”
Downstairs, my mom was standing defensively in our foyer staring into the familiar faces of Officer Petty and Officer Wright.
Perfect.
These guys were never going to go away. Maybe we should just invite them to this year’s Thanksgiving.
“Hey,” I said casually coming to a stop behind my mom.
She turned, “Hey, Sophie, Officer Wright and Officer Petty have come to talk to us.”
“Okay,” I answered waiting for them to begin.
“May we come in?”
“Certainly.” My mom opened her hand, leading them to the living room. They knew the way.
We all sat down and the officers looked at Tom. My mom took the cue. “Officers, Tom is like family. He is welcome to hear whatever you have to say.”
They squirmed around in their seat uncomfortably, and then Officer Petty took the lead.
“Alright, Ms. Slone,” he cleared his throat. “We came by to let you know of some new developments in the attack on you.”
The sounds of the word attack sent a sharp sensation through my spine.
Officer Wright took over. “The girl who attacked you is Mara Cooper. She’s Tim Walter’s girlfriend, and she’s been arrested.”
My mother gasped. “I told you that boy was stalking Sophie. I warned you guys and you didn’t protect her!” She began to stand up, but Tom held her back.
“Gayle. Please. Let’s just listen to what they have to say.”
He darted them a cutting glare. “Officers can you please tell us why you’re here? You could have told us this over the phone.”
“Right.” Officer Petty regained the control. “Ms. Slone, we’re here to tell you that Mara is HIV positive.”
That news sort of came as a surprise for some reason. Maybe I had thought she bought the blood somewhere. I blinked in a slow daze, finding my thoughts drifting to her, feeling sorry for her too.
My mom looked at me. “That doesn’t mean you’re infected.”
“And, further investigation,” the officer continued, “determined that Tim Walters is also positive.”
My hand flew up to my mouth. Oh, my gosh. “No wonder his grandfather wanted to find a miracle medicine. He wanted to save Tim.”
“There’s more,” Officer Wright chimed in.
“What more?” my mom pressed. “What more could there possibly be?”
“Well,” Officer Wright continued, “I had a hunch that it didn’t end there. I figured that Tim wanted Mara to infect you, so that he could manipulate you from jail. So I started thinking about who else he may have wanted to manipulate, and Chase Chambers came to mind.”
No. I shook my head.
“Yes,” Officer Wright said. “We pulled his hospital records and Chase was also positive. We believe Tim shared needles with him on purpose. When Chase found out his status, he did whatever Tim said because he promised him he could eventually change it. We believe that’s also why he killed himself.”
“That jerk!” I gritted. “How rude.”
That seemed like such a lame comment, but that’s the first thing that came to mind. How dare he purposely spread something so horrible? That is the lowest of the low. That’s worse than murder. It’s not like he acted on impulse or rage. He purposely wanted to make other people suffer slowly. How awful.
“Yes, we agree. We just thought you should know.”
“Thank you.” My mom began to stand, and I was expecting Tom to hold her down again, but he didn’t. He let her practically sweep them out the door. That was her way of coping. In her mind, if she could get rid of them, then she didn’t have to dwell on the possibility that Tim single-handedly ruined the lives of several people, including possibly me.
I expected her to rant and rave after they left, but she just went and fixed herself a cup of tea and sat back down. She still looked tense until she inhaled the herbal scent coming from her mug. After taking a sip she closed her eyes as it went down. It seemed to be what she needed for the moment.
“Sophie?” Tom asked, breaking the silence.
I broke away from watching her, “Yes?”
“There is a very good chance you will remain negative, and even if you don’t, we have an early start on making sure you stay healthy.”
He had no idea. “Thanks,” I replied, wishing Wes would hurry up. The idea of Tom and my mom knowing the truth was getting more and more appealing by the second. I could no longer stand them not having any idea that my test results were only a fraction of what lurked around the corner for me.
After another few minutes of awkward silence, Tom stood and said, “Well, Gayle, I’m going to help you start dinner. We might as well make the most of the evening and not let Tim have his way.”
My mom gave him a soft attempt at a smile and stood, “I’ll come with you. Sophie, do you want to help?”
Um. “Sure.” Why not?
Maybe I was buttering them up or just trying to keep my mind off of Tim. Whatever the reason, I was chopping carrots for the pot roast while Tom was peeling the potatoes. No one said anything. We all worked in silence, talking about the food only when needed.
By the time my mom put the roast in the oven, it was time for Wes to arrive. I left the kitchen with Mom and Tom peeling apples for her homemade apple pie. Thoughts of how hard she was working to put together this meal made me consider waiting until after dinner to tell her.
When Wes pulled up, I met him on the porch and closed the door behind me. He hadn’t heard the news about Tim yet, so I wanted to tell him in private, hoping he wouldn’t flip.
“Hey,” I said, blocking his path to the door.
“Hey,” he leaned in giving me a quick kiss, “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I said nonchalantly.
He cocked his head to the side, “Sophie? Why are we out here?” His eyes slowly surveyed my front stoop.
“Well, there’s something I wanted to tell you before you went inside.”
“Okay.” He leaned forward with one brow raised, not forgetting to include his half smile.
I shook away the distracting thoughts. “Um, the cops were here again.”
“And?” he asked not surprised.
“And they said the girl who attacked me was Tim’s girlfriend and they are both HIV positive.”
He didn’t show surprise until I added the information about Chase being tricked by Tim, too. It immediately made me question his initial reaction.
“Wait a minute, you already knew that didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know about Chase. But I knew about Tim.”
“What?!” I pushed his chest back with both hands. He gave way on his own. He was letting me have my rant, so I pushed him again, this time forcing him off the step.
“I just found out yesterday.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me?!”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When, Wes, when?”
“I don’t know yet. I was trying to figure out what good it would do. You already have to deal with fearing the worst from your tests. I didn’t want you to have to worry about the reasons behind it.”
“What difference does it make? The reasons? I wish you’d stop making choices without me.” I went to turn back into the house, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me into a bear hug from behind, his cool breath close on my neck.
“Stop,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m trying here. I’m not perfect, I don’t know what I’m supposed do.”
“You stop keeping stuff from me.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He squeezed me securely.
“Wait,” I turned myself around, still secured to his chest. “How did you know?”
He let go of me with one hand to scratch his neck.
“Wes,” I warned. “Tell me.”
“I paid him a visit.”
“What?!” I squirmed and this tim
e he let go, knowing I needed to walk it off. I began pacing my porch and after a moment, I stopped in front of him. “Let me get this straight. You got upset because I got close to him and then you turn around and do the same thing?”
“I wouldn’t have, had he not sent that girl with that damn needle.”
I don’t think I’d heard him curse before, so I knew he was mad. Of course he would want to confront Tim after what he did, even if it was risky.
“Alright,” I said, forcing myself to relax. “What did he say?”
“Well, he hadn’t heard if it was a success or not, because they’d arrested Mara and he hadn’t spoken to her. When I told him he’d made a mistake by sending Mara, he started laughing. He told me that now you’ll know what it feels like, and I pieced it together from there.”
“So then what?”
“I told him that he was wrong to assume it would work.”
“But, it did work.”
He shook his head. “No, it hasn’t. And I let him know that you’re negative and will continue to be. Then I told him that thanks to his new stunt, he will undoubtedly spend the rest of his life in jail, which is too bad, because when our cure for AIDS comes out, he’ll be rotting in jail.”
“Wait, what cure?”
He was silent.
“Wes, please tell me what’s going on. You’re making phone calls all the time, keeping information from me. Please don’t let me live every day wondering what you’re doing. You’re planning something, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m planning to do everything I can to make sure you live past nineteen.”
“You have the medicine don’t you?”
He crossed his arms. “No, not yet.”
“Not yet? What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re missing something and it hasn’t been tested yet. But we’re close. And I swear to you, if you’re positive, it’ll be ready before you let out one cough.”
I shook my head. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah, well it’s what we’re faced with in this day and age, so we’ll deal with it.”
I liked the way he said that we’ll deal with it, and just as I was about to give him a hug as a peace offering, my mom opened the door. “Hey guys, why are you outside? The party’s in here.”
The Iron Quill Page 13
