“Don’t get mad,” he told me. “I’m just not ready to go there again yet. We’ve barely talked in months, and I can’t pretend we’re starting where we left off. I mean, shit, you dumped my ass where we left off.”
“I was hoping you forgot about that,” I said. “Maybe if we had sex you would?” I smiled at him through a cheesy grin.
“Momentarily, I’m sure I would. But, and stop me if you don’t feel this way at all, I’m kind of wanting something more than sex and gore with you.”
I hid “sex and gore” away in my brain as a kickass name for a movie. “No,” I said coyly, or as coy as I could muster. “I don’t just want that either. I think I did want that, originally, but things have changed.”
I waited for Leo to tell me he was just kidding, that he wanted to make me feel just as shitty as I made him feel. But Leo wasn’t like that. He was honest. Open. More so than I could ever be. But I was trying.
“So what’s changed?” Leo asked.
“Do I have to answer that?” I cringed.
“Yes. I deserve some emoting here, and besides, you’re adorable when you’re all squirmy.”
“Fuck you. I’m not adorable.” I whacked him in the chest.
“You are until you open your mouth,” he decided. “Fess up.”
I exhaled a deep sigh. “Fine. But you owe me, like, a foot massage or something for this.”
“A foot massage?” he laughed.
“Yeah. Isn’t that what couples do for each other?”
“Couples? Are we a couple?”
“You’re killing me, Leo.” I covered my face with my hand and attempted to spill. “I just realized that it’s okay to give and get good things sometimes, and it doesn’t make me a bad person if my life isn’t one hundred percent hell.” There. I said it.
“Aw.” He patted my head. “Was that so hard?”
“You’ll find out later when I kill you in your sleep.”
“I get so turned on when you talk like that.” He moved my hand away from my face and kissed me. I couldn’t fathom how I found a guy who liked me for my good and evil parts. But there I was, in the arms of Leo Dietz again, and I wasn’t hating myself for it.
CHAPTER
39
THAT MONDAY, AS I NAVIGATED the hallway at school, I felt different. The dread was still there when I thought about Becca, the “what if” of the rest of her forever-pending test results. But Becca had returned to the person I knew as my best friend. Not fighting her discomfort anymore, she chose to stay home from school until she was ready. Her mom was more than okay with that, since it went along with her whole doomed vibe. Luckily, her mom spent so much time out of the house it allowed Caleb that much more time in. Becca drew an old-timey picture in my mind of her recuperating in bed while Caleb sat next to her reading love poems and refreshing her mint juleps.
Jenna Brown strode up to my locker as I finagled space for my backpack. “I hear Becca’s still sick.” She pouted overzealously.
“Her mom tell your mom that?” I was ready to jump down her throat.
She nodded. “The drama department put some money together to get her this.” She handed me a small box with a card attached. “It’s an iTunes gift card. So she can download TV shows and movies to keep her busy.” Jenna had a slight look of panic as she explained this, as though I would have an abusively snarky comeback. I thought about it, like why it took them so damn long or how would her mom know how she was because she was never around anyway. I stopped myself. What they did was a good thing. I couldn’t fault them for taking a while to do it.
“Thanks. I’ll give this to her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
Jenna stood stock still, waiting for the punch line. I thought about fulfilling her expectations, when we were interrupted by the appearance of a super-tall figure behind her. I looked up at him and smiled. If I were one of those people, my eyes might have welled up with tears.
“Excuse me,” Leo said to Jenna, and stepped between her and me.
“Hi,” I breathed. He didn’t say anything, just leaned down, hands cupping my face, and kissed me. It was my first instance of hallway PDA, something I held so much disdain for I made it a point to mock regular culprits as a sport.
But Leo’s lips on my lips, his hands on my cheeks, and I wasn’t even in the hallway anymore. It was only me and Leo. Heavenly.
Until Jenna interrupted with a giggle and an overly enthusiastic “Are you guys dating? That is so cute!” She squealed.
“Leo and I are not cute,” I blasted her. But what was I really fighting about? I wrapped an arm around his waist, and he draped his over my shoulder. “And, yes, we are dating. Or whatever,” I admitted.
“Adorable!” she squealed again. I willed myself not to kick her in the shin.
“We have to go,” I announced, and pulled Leo along as best I could through the hall to the book closet. When we arrived, Leo fished out his key and unlocked the door. Inside for the first time in months, Leo looked around. “Something looks different. Did you rearrange the books?” he asked.
“Maybe. Long story,” I dismissed. He kissed me again, and I wanted to pull the clocks off the wall to stop time.
Every day of school after that started the exact same way. I had never looked forward to school, or a guy, as much in my life.
I prayed that the third bad thing had come and gone.
CHAPTER
40
THREE WEEKS PASSED faster than any I could remember before my dad died. For so long, time stood still, dragged, or even moved backward as I focused on every negative, painful thing that happened and wondered what would come next. My guard was only down the tiny bit I allowed myself, as Becca waited for the test results of her cancer treatment. Her radiation was over, and instead of us spending more time together as her health improved, we saw each other less and less. I hated to admit it was because of a guy, but Leo and I were hanging out whenever we could, watching movies, studying at the library, brainstorming a movie I might make someday. Not that Becca wasn’t busy with her own guy. Now that she was starting to feel human again, hair growing back, weight filling out her sunken frame, Caleb was in the picture a lot more. They went from romantic notes between windows to sharing her twin bed most nights. I wondered if Becca’s mom knew what was going on, considering Caleb was a rather large guy to hide. Maybe she was of the mind that Becca went through hell and deserved her little slice of homeschooled heaven. Or maybe she was too cracked out on God to notice.
Leo and I hung out with Becca and Caleb from time to time. He was nice, mind-blowingly smart, but definitely a little pop-culture deprived. I feel like if I were homeschooled it would be impossible not to waste the day in front of the television or computer and try to pass it off as “homework.” But Caleb was all about actual learning. He did deign to come to a midnight screening of The Exorcist with us. Leo and I disagreed on its brilliance. “I think there’s way too much plot and not enough scare,” I argued.
“Which makes the scary parts all the scarier. Plus, there’s all that subliminal stuff,” Leo countered. We discovered on a Blu-ray of the film that the director did all of these extra-creepy secret things, like inserting random, terrifying faces into scenes and playing the squeals of actual pigs being slaughtered to make the movie especially unsettling.
“I’ll take a midnight show of Casablanca over this any day,” was Caleb’s response. Becca stared at him dreamily. It was a good look for her after so many pained ones.
And still we waited for the news of her life.
Becca began making school appearances again, not full days but enough to get some work done. One day at lunch, her phone rang. Becca’s cancer was like a get-out-of-jail-free card and allowed her to carry her cell phone in case of emergency. “Emergency” most of the time meant texting sappy I miss you texts to Caleb, but it was nearing the time of her lab results. Post-chemo, post-radiation, she’d soon find out if the cancer was zapped, if she needed to go through hell again, o
r the worst possibility: Treatment didn’t work at all.
When her phone rang, Becca announced, “It’s my mom,” which it often was. When Becca was the one out of the house, her mom called to check in every hour or so. She admitted to wishing Helen could follow Becca around school so she didn’t have to worry so much. I don’t think anything could have stopped her mom from worrying. It felt a tad more appropriate than a facial.
“Hello?” Becca stood up and plugged one ear to hear the phone better. The lunch crew followed her expressions. Anticipation. Disappointment. Aggravation.
“Mom! Stop calling me! Seriously. Unless you have news, don’t call anymore. You’re going to make me have a heart attack before I even find out if my cancer is gone.” Pause. “Yeah, love you, too. Crazy woman,” she mumbled at the end.
*
The following Saturday morning I was busy slicing cucumbers at Cellar when my phone rang in my pocket. I normally didn’t answer it, mostly because then I had to wash my hands for the millionth time. Winter dryness was killing me. But all phone calls had become critical. I knew any day Becca would learn of her post-chemo scans, which would basically say whether her cancer had gone away. Seven months. That’s how long I watched Becca have cancer. That’s a long fucking time to be sick with anything, to have to watch and wonder what was going to happen to my best friend. Could this finally be the call?
I walked into the back room, away from the kitchen scraps and music from the stereo. “Hello?” I answered.
I played out this phone call a billion times in my head. Sometimes it went:
“I have to tell you something, Alex. The cancer’s still there. And it’s spread.”
And when I’m feeling particularly morbid, Becca adds,
“They say I have one month to live.”
I also have the other conversation, where Becca screams at the top of her lungs, “The cancer’s gone!!!” We dance, and I hug whoever’s closest to me, preferably not some sub-slinging douche.
“Hello?” This wasn’t in my head. This was the real deal. The phone call that determined our future. My hands shook as I answered. I hadn’t realized how terrified I was.
There was no dramatic pause. Instead, unlike any of my pre-enactments, Becca blurted out, “I’m clear. No cancer spots. Normal blood.” She was breathlessly quiet.
“That’s good, right? I mean, it sounds good. I just never know if there’s something else coming.”
“Eighty-five percent full remission rate. That’s really good. I go back again in three months. And three months after that.” I let the tears of relief tumble down my cheeks.
“That’s a lot of waiting,” I told her.
“It’s not waiting, Alex. It’s living. For the next three months, I’m going to live like we’re gonna die young!” she screamed.
“That was Ke$ha, wasn’t it?” I wiped my eyes with my palm.
“Brilliant woman, she is.”
“Doesn’t she have the words ‘suck it’ tattooed inside her lip?” I asked.
“Don’t you have a tattoo of a dead guy smiley on your leg?” She got me.
“Brilliant woman, she is,” I concurred.
I exhaled at the realization that, indeed, for the next three months there was no more cancer. We could end our senior year like normal teenagers. Or, at the very least, like normal teenagers with a shitload of baggage.
CHAPTER
41
“DO WE HAVE TO do this?” I asked, bundled in twelve layers of clothes and still freezing my ass off at Baynes Beach.
“Bucket list, remember?” Becca still held that Fuck-It List over my head, as if the fact that I started it with her made me obligated to finish it, too.
“I believe we decided it was a Fuck-It List, and that is what I’d like to declare right now. Fuck it. It’s too cold out, Becca!” Becca used her cancer card to convince me, Caleb, and Leo to fulfill number 13: Sleep on a beach and watch the sunrise.
“I’m calling a technicality. It doesn’t actually say we have to stay all night. Let’s just watch the sun set and then get up really early for the sunrise.” Leo was my glowing voice of reason.
“Yes! Excellent idea.” I clapped.
“You guys can leave after sunset. We’re staying.” Becca linked her arm through Caleb’s massive one. He was scoutly prepared with a tent, heater, and probably a bearskin rug he skinned himself.
The four of us sat on a blanket in the cold sand. Caleb passed out hot chocolate made from cacao beans he grew in his greenhouse. Probably. As miserable as the late March temperature was, nothing could really make the moment bad. Here we were, together, happy, alive. So little else mattered.
Still, the instant Caleb marked the sunset with his Swiss Army watch, Leo and I were out of there. “Call me if you stop feeling your toes,” I yelled from my car. Leo and I sat inside as the engine attempted to warm up.
“Just drive. We’ll be back at my house in five minutes. We can warm up there.”
In the time Leo and I had been back on speaking terms, closer than when it was merely physical, we hadn’t yet had sex. At first, we held out so as not to make things too intense too quickly. But as the weeks passed—the long, yearning, painful weeks—I didn’t think I could hold out much longer. It surprised me, that while getting emotionally close to someone I could feel even more attracted to him than when I barely knew anything about him. I knew that sounded stupid, but I had never experienced anything different. The physical and the emotional never went together. Maybe because I had never had the emotional before.
We got back to Leo’s house in record time and shot straight up to his bedroom. We kicked off our shoes and dove under the covers together, still wearing all eight million layers of clothing. As we huddled up, our shivers stopped and we somehow fell asleep. When I awoke an hour later, I was thick with sweat.
“Gross.” I sat up and began to peel off my coat, then my hoodie. Underneath were three more shirts and long underwear. When all that was left was my t-shirt, I nudged Leo awake. His forehead and hairline were coated in sweat. “You need to get out of your clothes,” I told him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said sleepily. I helped him unzip his coat and pulled layer after layer over his head. When it was time to stop, when he, too, was left with only a black t-shirt, I pulled that off, too. In return, he yanked my shirt over my head. “Just to be fair,” he explained.
“Well, if you’re going to be that way,” I said, and unhooked my bra.
There we were on his bed, wearing jeans and nothing else. I sat on my knees facing him, while his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. I traced my fingers up the definition of his stomach, his chest. He wrapped his hands around my waist and let them rise up over my breasts. This was as naked as we’d been in months. We both knew that if any clothing came off, we couldn’t stop ourselves from everything coming off. We were right. The instant I felt his bare flesh against mine, I couldn’t get close enough to him.
We took our time, knowing we had time. Every hair on my body stood on end, every sense heightened. He tasted so good, felt even better. I didn’t remember taking off my jeans, and maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was all him. We waited until we couldn’t stand it anymore, until it felt like we’d explode from not letting ourselves go. And then we did. The feeling lasted forever, as though I couldn’t let it stop. When I finally relaxed, every limb entwined with Leo, I said something so completely involuntary that I gasped after I said it.
“I love you.”
“You what?” Leo propped himself up on an elbow.
“Uhhh…” I sounded like a dolt, and I knew I had to own it. “I said I love you,” I repeated more clearly, more certain.
“One more time,” Leo prodded.
“Those are about to be the last words you ever hear, Leo Dietz,” I growled in his ear.
“That’d be fine with me.” He kissed my forehead. I waited for his return sentiment, but it didn’t come.
“And?” I prodded.
“And
what?” He played dumb. Or was dumb.
“Aren’t you going to say it back?”
“You heard those words from me and had months to deal with them. I’m going to let your words age a little. Like a fine wine.”
“Or cheese,” I noted.
“I like cheese,” Leo added. “A lot.”
“That makes two of us,” I concurred.
So, I had to wait. I had gotten pretty good at waiting. But this time, it wasn’t test results. Love was so abstract: It wasn’t war, it wasn’t cancer, it wasn’t death. But I’m pretty sure that’s what I felt. And I was going to let myself, no matter how hard my evil side fought against it.
CHAPTER
42
SPRING
I WAITED FOR LEO in the book closet. There was less than one month left of school. Less than one month until the anniversary of my dad’s death. Less than one month until Becca’s next cancer check.
The door clicked open, and there stood Leo. His hair was growing out, which I liked a little better than the buzz. I think we all wanted to have some hair on our heads for a while. He had on a black t-shirt, jeans, and black Chucks, which made us annoyingly cutesy and matching. I recognized the outline of his brother’s dog tags underneath his shirt. The second he walked in and the door closed, we clung to each other. We kissed for a couple minutes until I stopped him. “Time to get down to business.”
Reluctantly, we sat down at the old desks and worked. He had a huge creative writing story to revise, and I was putting the finishing touches on my new horror movie, Graphite. It was the story of a girl who gets hit in the forehead with a pencil after her classmates attempt to throw it at the muddled classroom celling. Then she goes on a killing spree, taking out all of the guys who crossed her with violent pencil deaths. Naturally, Becca would star, fulfilling number nineteen on the Fuck-It List. Not that we had looked at the list since freezing our asses off on the beach. We may have accomplished most of the weird, ridiculous, perverted goals Becca set for herself, but the list felt too connected to cancer to continue. I held onto it, storing it underneath my bedside stack of library books. Just in case. Becca never asked where it was.
The F- It List Page 19
