A Thousand Boy Kisses

by Tillie Cole

  “What?” I asked, trying to read their faces.

  It was Ruby who replied. “What will she be like when she wakes?”

  My stomach tightened. “Weak,” I whispered. Turning back to Poppy, I stroked down her cheek. “But she’ll be here again. I don’t care if I have to carry her everywhere we go. I just want to see her smile. I’ll have her back with me, where she belongs … at least for a little while.”

  I heard a sniff and saw Ruby crying. Jorie held her close.

  I sighed in sympathy, but said, “I know you love her, Ruby. But when she wakes, when she finds out everyone knows, act normal. She hates seeing those she loves upset. It’s the worst part of all of this for her.” I squeezed Poppy’s fingers. “When she wakes we need to make her happy, like she does everyone else. We can’t show her that we’re sad.”

  Ruby nodded her head, then asked, “She won’t ever be coming back to school again, will she?”

  I shook my head. “Neither will I. Not until…” I trailed off, unwilling to finish off with those words. I wasn’t ready to say them yet. I wasn’t ready to face all of this.

  Not yet.

  “Rune,” Deacon said, a serious tone to his voice. “What are you doing next year? For college? Have you even applied anywhere?” He wrung his hands together. “You’ve got me concerned. We’re all leaving. And you haven’t even mentioned a thing. We’re just real worried.”

  “I’m not even thinking that far ahead,” I replied. “My life is here, right now, in this moment. All that will come later. Poppy’s my focus. She’s only ever been my focus. I don’t give a damn about next year or what I’ll do.”

  A silence descended on the room. I saw in Deacon’s face that he wanted to say more, but he didn’t dare.

  “Will she make prom?”

  My heart sank as Jorie gazed sadly at her best friend. “I don’t know,” I replied. “She wanted to, so badly, but it’s still six weeks out.” I shrugged. “The doctors just don’t know.” I turned to look at Jorie. “It was one of her last wishes. To go to her senior prom.” I swallowed and turned back to Poppy. “In the end all she wants to do is be kissed and see out prom. That’s all she’s asking for. Nothing grand, nothing life-changing … just those things. With me.”

  I gave my friends a moment, as Jorie and Ruby began to cry quietly. But I didn’t break. I just silently counted down the hours until she came back to me. Imagining the moment I would see her smile once more. Look up at me.

  Squeeze my hand in hers.

  After an hour or so, my friends stood up. Judson dropped papers on the small table beside Poppy’s bed that I used as a desk. “Math and geography, man. The teachers wrote everything on there for you. Hand-in dates and such.” I stood and said goodbye to my friends, thanking them for coming. When they left, I moved to the table to complete the homework. I’d finish this work, then take my camera outside. My camera, which I hadn’t removed from my neck in weeks.

  The camera that was a part of me again.

  Hours must have passed as I ducked in and out of the room, capturing the day outside. Later that evening, Poppy’s family began filing into the room, Poppy’s doctors following closely behind. I jumped from my seat and rubbed the tiredness from my eyes. They had arrived to begin bringing her out from the coma.

  “Rune,” Mr. Litchfield greeted. He walked over to where I was standing and embraced me. A happy truce had settled between us since Poppy had been in her coma. He understood me, and I understood him. Because of that, even Savannah had begun to trust me with not breaking her sister’s heart.

  And because I hadn’t left, not once, since Poppy had been admitted. If Poppy was here, so was I. My dedication must have showed that I loved her more than any of them had ever believed.

  Ida came over to where I stood and wrapped her arms around my waist. Mrs. Litchfield kissed me on my cheek.

  Then we all waited for the doctor to finish his exam.

  When he turned to us, he said, “Poppy’s white blood cell count is as good as we can hope for in this stage of her illness. We’ll gradually reduce the anesthetic and bring her around. As she gets stronger, we’ll be able to unhook her from some of these machines.” My heart beat fast, my hands clenching at my sides.

  “Now,” the doctor continued. “Poppy, at first, will slip in and out of consciousness. When she is conscious, she may be delirious, out of sorts. That will be from the medication still in her system. But eventually, she should begin to rouse for longer periods of time and, all being well, in a couple of days, show us her usual happy self.” The doctor held up his hands. “But Poppy will be weak. Until we assess her in her conscious state, we won’t be able to determine just how much this infection has weakened her. Only time will tell. But she may have limited movement that restricts the things she can do. It is unlikely that she will regain full strength.”

  I closed my eyes, praying to God that she would be okay. And if she wasn’t, I promised that I would help her through—anything to give me just a little more time. No matter what it took, I’d do anything.

  The next couple of days dragged by. Poppy’s hands began to move slightly, her eyelashes fluttered, and on day two, her eyes began to open. It was only for a few seconds at a time, but it was enough to fill me with a mixture of excitement and hope.

  On day three, a team of doctors and nurses came into the room, and began the process of unhooking Poppy from the machines. I watched, heart pounding, as the breathing tube was removed from her throat. I watched as machine after machine was carted away, until I saw my girl again.

  My heart swelled.

  Her skin was pale, her usually soft lips were chapped. But seeing her free from all of those machines, I was sure she’d never looked so perfect to me.

  I sat patiently in the chair by her bed, holding her hand in mine. My head was tipped back, as I stared in a trance at the ceiling, when I felt Poppy’s hand weakly squeezing mine. My breathing paused. My lungs froze. My eyes darted to Poppy on the bed. Her fingers on her free hand moved, softly twitching.

  Reaching over to the wall, I slammed the call button for the nurses. When one entered, I said, “I think she’s waking up.” Poppy had made slight movements over the past twenty-four hours, but never this many and for this long.

  “I’ll get the doctor,” she replied and left the room. Poppy’s parents came rushing in shortly after, having just arrived for their daily visit.

  The doctor entered seconds later. As he approached the bed, I stepped back to stand beside Poppy’s parents, letting the assisting nurse check her vitals.

  Poppy’s eyes began to flutter under her lids, then they slowly rolled open. I inhaled as her green eyes sleepily took in her surroundings.

  “Poppy? Poppy, you’re okay,” the doctor said soothingly. I saw Poppy try turn her head in his direction, but her eyes couldn’t focus. I felt a tug somewhere inside me when her hand reached out. She was searching for me. Even in a confused state, she was searching for my hand.

  “Poppy, you’ve been asleep for a while. You’re okay, but you’re going to feel tired. Just know that you’re okay.”

  Poppy made a sound like she was trying to speak. The doctor turned to the nurse. “Get her some ice for her lips.”

  I couldn’t stay back any longer, and I rushed forward, ignoring Mr. Litchfield’s call for me to stop. Moving to the other side of the bed, I leaned down and wrapped my hand around Poppy’s. The minute I did, her body calmed and her head softly rolled in my direction. Her eyes fluttered open. Then she looked right at me.

  “Hei, Poppymin,” I whispered, fighting the tightness in my throat.

  And then she smiled. It was small, barely a trace, but it was there. Her weak fingers squeezed mine with all the strength of a fly, then she slipped back to sleep.

  I blew out a long breath. But Poppy’s hand never released mine. So I stayed where I was. Sitting on the chair beside her, I stayed exactly where I was.

  Another day passed with an increasing number o
f moments of consciousness from Poppy. She wasn’t really lucid when she was awake, but she smiled at me when she focused her attention my way. I knew a part of her, although confused, was aware I was here with her. Her weak smiles made sure there was nowhere else I’d ever be.

  Later that day, when a nurse came into the room to do her hourly checks, I asked, “Can I move her bed?”

  The nurse stopped what she was doing and raised her brow. “To where, darlin’?”

  I walked to the wide window. “Here,” I said. “So when she wakes properly she can see outside.” I huffed a quiet laugh. “She loves to watch the sunrise.” I glanced back. “Now she’s not hooked up to anything but her IV, I thought it might be okay?”

  The nurse stared at me. I could see the sympathy in her eyes. I didn’t want her sympathy. I just wanted her to help me. I wanted her to help me give this to Poppy.

  “Sure,” she said eventually. “I can’t see that being a problem.” My body relaxed. I moved to the side of Poppy’s bed, the nurse at the other, and we rolled it to sit in front of the view of the pediatric oncology garden outside. A garden which sat under a clear blue sky.

  “This okay?” the nurse asked and pushed the brakes down.

  “Perfect,” I replied and smiled.

  When Poppy’s family came in a short time later, her mama hugged me. “She’ll love it,” she said. As we sat around the bed, Poppy stirred from time to time, shifting where she lay, but for no longer than a few seconds.

  Over the past couple of days, her parents had taken turns staying overnight in the family room across the hallway. One stayed at home with the girls. More often than not it was her mama who stayed here.

  I stayed in Poppy’s room.

  I lay beside her in her small bed every night. Slept with her in my arms, waiting for the moment she woke up.

  I knew her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with it, but I figured they allowed it because, why not? They wouldn’t disallow it. Not now. Not in this circumstance.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t leaving.

  Poppy’s mama was talking to her sleeping daughter about her sisters. She was telling her about how they were doing at school—mundane things. I sat, half-listening, when there was a soft knock at the door.

  When I glanced up, I saw my pappa open the door. He gave Mrs. Litchfield a small wave, then looked at me. “Rune? Can I see you for a second?”

  I tensed, my eyebrows pulling into a frown. My pappa waited by the door, never breaking our stare. Blowing out a breath, I rose from my seat. My pappa backed away from the door as I approached. As I left the room, I saw he held something in his hand.

  He rocked on his feet nervously.

  “I know you didn’t ask me to, but I developed your films for you.”

  I froze.

  “I know you asked me to take them home. But I’ve seen you, Rune. I’ve watched you take these photographs, and I know they’re for Poppy.” He shrugged. “Now Poppy’s waking up more and more, I thought you might want to have them with you, for her to see.”

  Without saying anything else, he handed over a photo album. It was filled with print after print of all the things I’d captured while Poppy was asleep. It was all the captured moments she’d missed out on.

  My throat began to close. I hadn’t been home. I hadn’t been able to develop these in time for her … but my pappa…

  “Thank you,” I rasped, then dropped my eyes to the ground.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw my pappa’s body relax, releasing its tension. He raised his hand, as if to touch my shoulder. I stilled as he did. My pappa’s hand paused in mid-air, but clearly deciding to commit, he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  I closed my eyes as I felt his hand on me. And for the first time in a week, I felt like I could breathe. For a second, as my pappa showed me he was with me, I actually breathed.

  But the longer we stood there, the more I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t been like this with him for so long. Hadn’t let him get this close.

  Needing to get away, unable to deal with this again, I nodded my head and went back into the room. I shut the door and sat down, the album on my lap. Mrs. Litchfield didn’t ask what it was; I didn’t tell her. She continued reciting her stories to Poppy until it was late.

  When Mrs. Litchfield had left the room, I slipped off my boots, and like I did every night, I opened the curtains and moved to lie beside Poppy.

  I remembered looking at the stars, then the next thing I knew, I felt a hand stroking over my arm. Disoriented, I blinked my eyes open, the early rays of a new day seeping into the room.

  I tried to clear the fog of sleep from my head. I felt hair tickling my nose, and warm breath drifting across my face. Glancing up, I blinked the sleep from my eyes, and my gaze collided with the prettiest pair of green eyes I’d ever seen.

  My heart missed a beat, and a smile spread on Poppy’s lips, her deep dimples sinking in on her pale cheeks. Lifting my head in surprise, I held her hand and whispered, “Poppymin?”

  Poppy blinked, blinked again, then her gaze ranged around the room. She swallowed, wincing as she did. Seeing her lips were dry, I reached over and took the glass of water from the side table. I brought the straw to her mouth. Poppy drank a few small sips, then pushed the glass aside.

  She sighed in relief. Lifting her favorite cherry lip balm from the table, I smoothed a thin layer on her lips. Poppy slowly rubbed her lips together. Not breaking my gaze, she smiled, a wide, beautiful smile.

  Feeling my chest expand with light, I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. It was brief, barely a kiss, but when I pulled back, Poppy swallowed and whispered hoarsely, “Kiss number…” Her brow furrowed as confusion played on her face.

  “Nine hundred and three,” I finished for her.

  Poppy nodded. “When I came back to Rune,” she added, holding my gaze and weakly squeezing my hand, “just like I promised I would.”

  “Poppy,” I whispered in reply, and lowered my head until I tucked it into the crook of her neck. I wanted to hold her as close as I could, but she felt like a fragile doll: easy to break.

  Poppy’s fingers landed in my hair, and in a move as familiar as breathing, they ran through the strands, Poppy’s light breath flowing over my face.

  I raised my head and stared down at her. I made sure to drink in every part of her face, her eyes. I made sure to cherish this moment.

  The moment when she returned to me.

  “How long?” she asked.

  I stroked back the hair from her face. “You were under a week. You’ve been waking up gradually for the past few days.”

  Poppy’s eyes closed momentarily, then opened again.

  “And how long … left?”

  I shook my head, proud of her strength, and answered honestly, “I don’t know.”

  Poppy nodded her head, the movement barely there. Feeling a warmth on the back of my neck, I turned and looked out the window. I smiled. Facing Poppy again, I said, “You rose with the sun, baby.”

  Poppy frowned, until I moved out of the way. When I did, I heard her sharp intake of breath. When I looked at her face, I saw the orange rays kissing her skin. I saw her eyes close, then open again, as a smile pulled on her lips.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. I lay on her pillow beside her, watching the sky lighten with the arrival of the new day. Poppy didn’t say anything as we watched the sun rise in the sky, bathing the room in its light and warmth.

  Her hand squeezed mine. “I feel weak.”

  My stomach fell. “The infection hit you hard. It’s taken its toll.”

  Poppy nodded in understanding, and then became lost once more in the morning view. “I’ve missed these,” she said, pointing her finger to the window.

  “Do you remember much?”

  “No,” she replied softly. “But I know I missed them all the same.” She glanced down to her hand and said, “I remember feeling your hand in mine, though … It’s strange. I do
n’t remember anything else, but I remember that.”

  “Ja?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied softly. “I think I’d always remember the feel of your hand holding mine.”

  Reaching out beside me, I lifted up the photo album my pappa brought, placed it on my lap and opened it. The first photo was of the sun rising through thick clouds. The rays split through the branches of the pine tree leaves, capturing the pink hues perfectly.

  “Rune,” Poppy whispered and ran her hand over the print.

  “It was the first morning you were here.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want you to miss your sunrise.”

  Poppy’s head moved until it rested against my shoulder. I knew then I’d done right. I felt the happiness in her touch. It was better than words.

  I flicked through the album. Showed her the trees beginning to flower outside. The raindrops against the window on the day it poured. And the stars in the sky, the full moon, and the birds nesting in the trees.

  When I closed the album, Poppy shifted her head back and stared into my eyes. “You captured the moments I’ve missed.”

  Feeling my cheeks heat up, I lowered my head. “Of course. I always will.”

  Poppy sighed. “Even when I’m not here … You need to capture all these moments.” My stomach rolled. Before I could say anything, she lifted her hand to my cheek. It felt so light. “Promise me,” she said. When I didn’t respond, she insisted, “Promise me, Rune. These pictures are too precious to have never been taken.” She smiled. “Think of what you can capture in the future. Just think of the possibilities that lie ahead.”

  “I promise,” I replied quietly. “I promise, Poppymin.”

  She exhaled. “Thank you.”

  Leaning over, I kissed her cheek. When I pulled back, I rolled to face her on the bed. “I’ve missed you, Poppymin.”

  Smiling, she whispered back, “I’ve missed you too.”

  “We’ve got a lot to do when you get out of this place,” I told her, watching the excitement flare in her eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered. Her lips rubbed together and she asked, “How long until the first bloom?”