The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

  ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You changed my life. You saw the good in me when no one else did. Before I met you, I was a mess. Going out with a guy I didn’t even like. Shoplifting stuff I didn’t need. Envying friends I loved. I was so unhappy and I didn’t even know it. I hid nothing from you and you still accepted me. You saved my life, Shane, and I love you. This disease is a pain in the ass. But you’re still you. You’re such a strong person. You’re wise and caliente. And caring. And funny. You make me so happy. Every day. Do you really think I’m going to walk away from that?’

  He looks at me so sadly. ‘I’m going to leave you behind.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘And I’m OK with that.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have a choice. Because I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’m sleeping over. I’ve cleared it with your mum.’

  At last, he smiles. ‘What about your mum?’

  ‘She doesn’t have a choice. I’ll ring her in a minute.’

  His eyes are moist when he says, ‘You realise you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Course I do.’ I smile and kiss him.

  ‘I love you,’ he says.

  ‘You should,’ I joke.

  ‘Want to know why?’

  ‘Course I do.’ My favourite kind of conversation. Someone telling me how brilliant I am.

  ‘I love you because you’re you.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  He laughs. ‘You see?’

  ‘No.’

  He laughs again. ‘Want me to spell it out?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He smiles and kisses my nose. ‘You pile into everything; you say what you’re thinking no matter what it is. You love dogs and Desperate Housewives and the cow race on Wii and Perez Hilton. You make me laugh like no one else. You care – about everyone. You’re beautiful and smart—’

  ‘Smart?’

  ‘Yeah, smart. Maybe that’s the best thing about you …’

  ‘What, that I’m smart? I’m not smart, Shane.’

  ‘Let me finish.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You don’t get how great you are.’

  ‘Go on.’

  He laughs.

  ‘You’re a sex kitten.’

  I growl.

  ‘You frown when you’re concentrating.’

  ‘And that’s good?’

  ‘You’re frowning.’ He kisses between my eyebrows. And we snuggle up.

  ‘You know,’ I say, after a while, ‘when I met you first I was afraid of you.’

  ‘What? The dangerous guy in the wheelchair?’

  ‘Trust me. You were scary.’

  ‘Scary’s good, though. I’m still scary, right?’

  ‘You’re the scariest, most gorgeous guy I know.’

  And I wonder, when my mum turns up with my pyjamas, my toothbrush, a change of underwear, even my squidgy pillow, has she changed into the mum I’ve always wanted. She even hugs me before she leaves. She looks like she’s going to say something but seems to change her mind. Then, as she’s about to get in the car, she turns.

  ‘I love you,’ she says.

  ‘I love you too.’ And I’m smiling. Because I realise I mean it.

  Wow.

  We lie facing each other, planning all the things we’re going to do. It’s like suddenly there’s a bigger hurry. He’s bringing me to a restaurant for my birthday next week. At Halloween, we’ll have a party with fireworks. We’ll go to the first rugby international of the season. We’ll even go to Paris.

  ‘Marry me,’ I say.

  He laughs.

  Which is when I realise: ‘I’m serious.’

  He looks at me like I’ve lost it.

  I haven’t. ‘Remember when you asked me what I’d do if I’d a year to live and I said I’d fall in love and get married? Well, I’ve fallen in love. Now I want to get married.’

  ‘But you don’t have a year to live.’

  ‘How do you know? Are you God? I might have less than a year.’

  ‘Except that you don’t. I do.’

  ‘OK then, I want to live till you die.’

  He smiles sadly. ‘And I want you to be able to walk away.’

  ‘I already told you. I won’t be walking anywhere.’

  ‘Let’s think about it,’ he says.

  ‘Fob off.’

  ‘I’m not fobbing you off. I just want you to think about it. What if I live to be as old as Stephen Hawking? You’d be stuck with me.’

  ‘Do you know how happy I’d be if you lived that long?’ I start to get teary.

  He hugs me.

  My cheek against his chest, I make a wish.

  ‘Let’s think about it,’ he whispers.

  We start to get sleepy.

  ‘You better set up the pull-out bed,’ he says.

  ‘Why?’

  There’s a pause. ‘Colm comes in every two hours to turn me. I could pull myself over – until the hand.’ He looks down at it.

  I’m so stunned by how much this has taken from him that I forget to speak.

  ‘And I’m not a great sleeper,’ he adds. ‘I’d keep you awake.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. Feeling tears come again, I kiss him on the cheek and get up.

  ‘All the stuff you need is in the first cupboard.’

  ‘OK.’

  I make up the bed and while I’m in the bathroom, Colm comes to help him into his.

  I lie in the semi-dark, feeling miles away from him.

  ‘You OK over there?’ he asks.

  I get out of the bed and start to shove it so that it is beside his, with enough room for Colm to do his thing.

  I jump in and turn to face him. ‘That’s better,’ I say.

  He smiles. ‘Much.’

  I don’t get much sleep. Colm is in and out. And Shane must be getting nightmares because every so often he groans. Once, I hear them whispering.

  ‘How’s the breathing?’ Colm asks.

  His breathing? There’s nothing wrong with his breathing.

  ‘I think I need to go up higher,’ Shane replies.

  Colm adjusts the head of the bed and the pillows.

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Good, thanks.’

  I lie with my eyes open, stressing. His breathing now?

  As soon as Colm leaves, I say, ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the breathing?’

  He jumps. ‘Jesus, you gave me a fright.’

  ‘You’re fine during the day.’

  ‘I know. This is just a night thing. I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘I’m more worried when you don’t tell me stuff and I find out myself.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK. Are you all right up there?’

  ‘Now that I’m facing you.’

  ‘I love you,’ I say. But I’m thinking, What will I do without you?

  He hears me sniffle. ‘Are you OK?’

  I nod.

  ‘That’s why I want you to go.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘I wish you would.’

  ‘Oh God, can’t you just be a little bit selfish for a change and just goddamn marry me?’

  He smiles. ‘Wuv you.’

  It’s the first thing I say to him in the morning.

  ‘Marry me.’

  It’s the first thing I say whenever we meet up.

  ‘Marry me.’

  He always laughs.

  There are variations. Like when he asks what I want for my birthday.

  ‘An engagement ring.’

  Or when he mentions Paris.

  ‘Oh you mean the honeymoon?’

  ‘Can you even get married at sixteen?’ he asks.

  ‘With parental consent you can.’ I’ve looked it up (of course).

  ‘Ah,’ he says.

  THIRTY-FOUR | LEGO

  I’m seventeen. Yaay!

  At breakfast, Mum gives me vouchers for driving lessons.

  ‘Oh my
God!’ I scream and throw my arms around her.

  ‘Nothing like a bit of independence,’ she says, smiling.

  I don’t see Louis, but on the table he’s left an envelope. Normally, he’s not one for gifts, so I rip it open. It’s a card featuring Peter from Family Guy. Inside, he has scribbled a note that says, ‘I O U, 10 driving lessons.’

  Wahoo. The more I get, the sooner I pass.

  At school, Rachel and Alex have my locker decorated with sweets and jokes. It’s kind of a thing we do in our school. And I love it.

  At first break, Simon comes up to me and wishes me happy birthday. I’m so stunned, he’s walked away before I can respond.

  After school, we go to the Jitter Mug. Just Rachel and Alex and me.

  Together, they hand me a present.

  ‘I love the paper’ – silver with a blue ribbon around it. I look up and smile. ‘Thanks guys.’

  I don’t want to open it straight away. I want to guess. The box is light. About the size of a giant box of chocolates. But it’s not heavy. So it couldn’t be chocolates. (They’d never buy me chocolates anyway.) I shake it. No sound. So. It’s light and rectangular and soundless … I haven’t a clue.

  ‘Open it,’ Alex says, smiling.

  ‘No, no, I want to guess.’

  ‘OK, go on then.’

  ‘I don’t know. A box of silent cereal?’

  They laugh.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Open it. Come on. You’re killing me.’

  ‘Give me a hint.’

  ‘No,’ Alex says.

  ‘It’s blue,’ Rachel says.

  ‘Blue?’ Oh my God. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t have. And I don’t guess, in case it’s not it. Because it’d be too much.

  ‘OK, I’m going to open it.’

  I rip off the paper. Inside is a box of … ‘Lego?’ But it didn’t make a noise. I’m totally confused.

  ‘Open it,’ Rachel says.

  I do. Inside the box of Lego is the most beautiful evening dress I’ve been saving for, for months. I look up. ‘You guys.’

  ‘The Lego box was my idea,’ Rachel says, proudly.

  ‘Good one.’ I get up and I hug them. Suddenly, I’ve something to wear tonight. For my dinner with Shane. ‘You’re just unbelievable.’

  ‘Yeah, we know,’ says Alex.

  I smile across at her. It’s so amazing to hear her just be normal, not worried, not scared. Just herself. I think that maybe everything’s going to be OK.

  Mum calls up to say the taxi is outside. I’m not ready. I could throw my eyelash curler, mascara and lip gloss in my bag and go. But it’ll just take two minutes and I want to look perfect. I want everything to be perfect tonight.

  ‘My God,’ my mum says when I come downstairs. ‘My little girl has grown up.’ She hugs me extra tight. ‘Have fun.’

  ‘Gotta go.’

  I hurry out. Greg, our regular taxi driver, hops out and opens the door for me. I thank him, climb in the back, kiss Shane and sit on the chair facing him. In his jacket and tie, he looks like James Bond – the only caliente Bond, Daniel Craig. His hair has grown again and he’s it gelled in a kind of a higgledy piggledy way that makes me feel like ruffling it even more. I could eat him up. I really could.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he says, kind of hoarse. ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’ he says to Greg.

  ‘Beautiful,’ Greg says. Like he has a choice.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, kind of embarrassed. ‘Let’s go.’

  The restaurant is the one in Monkstown that Dad took me to.

  ‘I love this place!’ I say.

  He looks at me. ‘I know.’

  He picked it for that reason. Without telling me. I smile. He’s the best. He just is.

  Inside, the restaurant seems different to how I remember it, cosier, warmer and buzzier, so pretty by night, with candles on the tables and everyone dressed up. I’m out to dinner with the guy I love. It feels right, for seventeen.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper to him.

  They show us to a table by a roaring fire.

  ‘Wow. Cool table,’ I say when the waiter’s gone. ‘I can’t believe we got it.’

  ‘I picked it out last week.’

  ‘You came in specially?’

  ‘Course I did.’

  Oh my God. I love this guy.

  The waiter comes back and Shane orders champagne. Just the thought of it makes me giddy.

  ‘Celebrating?’ the waiter asks with a smile.

  ‘It’s my birthday,’ I say. And, just in time, stop myself saying I’m seventeen.

  We have monkfish and the tastiest chips I’ve ever eaten. We chat and laugh and tease each other like always.

  Over dessert (yummy ice cream), he says, ‘I got you something.’

  ‘This meal,’ I say, because I seriously hope he hasn’t got anything else. This will cost a fortune.

  He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a small gift-wrapped box. I recognise the wrapping from the shop Alex did her work experience in. So classy. The way it’s tied, the paper, the string …

  ‘Oh my God, I love their stuff.’ I look up at him. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘You haven’t opened it yet,’ he says with a smile.

  Whatever it is, I know it’s going to be perfect. Slowly, I open the wrapping, wanting to make the moment last. I take out a small velvet box, look up at him, smile, then open it.

  ‘Oh my God. It’s gorgeous. I love it.’

  ‘It’s not much. But it’s all I could afford.’

  ‘What are you talking about? It’s beautiful.’

  I put it on my finger and it sparkles. I look down at it with all my fingers straight out. Funny. I’ve put it on that finger. And it does look like …

  ‘Do you still want to get married?’ he asks.

  Everything stops. Even my heart. I never thought he’d do it. Every time I asked, I never thought … My hands go to my face.

  ‘Really?’ He’s planned all this. Gone to all this trouble. Picked out the table. The most beautiful ring. Dressed up. God. I well up.

  ‘Is that a yes?’ he smiles.

  For once in my life I can’t speak.

  He goes all serious. ‘Are you OK?’

  I put my hand to my mouth. Nod.

  ‘You’re crying.’

  ‘I’m just so happy. They’re happy tears.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He still looks concerned. ‘Maybe—’

  ‘You are not taking it back now,’ I say crossly, covering my hand with the other one.

  He bursts out laughing. When he stops he looks relieved.

  ‘I’d get down on my knees if I could.’ Instead, he reaches across the table for my hand. ‘Sarah Healy, will you marry me?’

  I smile. ‘Yes, Shane Owens, I will absolutely marry you.’ This, more than any other, is by far, the one and only, best moment of my life. ‘Wow. God.’ I can’t believe it.

  He kisses my hand. I get up, go over to him and kiss him properly.

  ‘I love you so much,’ I say.

  ‘I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you more.’

  ‘No, I love you more.’

  ‘Wanna fight over it?’ I ask.

  ‘OK, but I’ll win.’

  ‘All right then, just give me a kiss.’ He laughs and does.

  When I sit back down, the waiter arrives with more champagne. He looks almost as excited as we are. ‘That was so romantic,’ he says, so enthusiastically I wonder if he’s gay.

  When he’s gone, I look at Shane for a long time. I smile. ‘So. What made you change your mind?’

  ‘I didn’t. I always wanted this. Just wanted you to make sure you did. And call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to surprise you. I wanted it to be romantic. For you. And I guess I wanted to ask.’ He shrugs.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘At least, if it’s a disaster, you won’t be stuck with me forever.’ His smile is wobbly.

  ‘If that’s a joke, it’s not fu
nny.’ But I don’t care because . . . ‘We. Are. Getting. Married!’

  ‘As long as your parents agree.’

  I look lovingly at my ring. I hold out my hand to him. ‘They’ll agree.’ Even if it has to be at gunpoint.

  He takes my hand in his and kisses it. He looks right into my eyes. ‘You’re definitely sure about this?’

  ‘I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.’

  I walk in the front door, on air. I sail into the kitchen, humming. I’m engaged!

  ‘Someone had a good time,’ Mum says, coming with an empty mug from the TV room.

  I hold my hand out. I thought about breaking the news slowly but I want her to see how happy I am, how happy he makes me.

  She’s gone white. ‘Is that—?’ she stops like she’s afraid to say it.

  ‘It is.’

  She looks from it to me. In shock. ‘I can’t believe he asked you to do this.’

  ‘He didn’t. I did.’

  ‘Sarah, you’re seventeen.’

  ‘With your consent—’

  ‘No, no. Hang on. Sarah, you have to think this through, the practicalities … Where would you live – for starters?’

  ‘With Shane, I suppose. Together anyway.’

  ‘Has he asked his parents?’

  ‘I don’t know. I presume—’

  ‘Don’t presume anything about marriage.’

  ‘Mum, it’ll be OK.’ I shouldn’t have told her. Not yet. She’s ruining everything. Tonight, I just want to be engaged to the guy I love and not worry about all this stuff.

  ‘Sarah, marriage is not something you go into lightly—’

  ‘I know that.’ But she’s not stopping me just because it didn’t work out for her. ‘I’ll be eighteen next year and I won’t need consent.’

  ‘I think that’s a better idea. Wait till next year.’

  ‘No. I love him and I want to be with him now. We don’t know how long we have together. We mightn’t even have a year.’ It kills me to say it.

  She looks at me.

  ‘Please, Mum. It’s what I want more than anything in the world. Shane is my life. I love him. I want to be with him.’

  ‘Sarah, do you know about this disease, what it will do to him? How hard it will be?’

  ‘Of course I do, I’m not stupid. Seriously, Mum. Have some faith in me.’

  ‘Who’s going to nurse him? You?’

  ‘He already has a nurse.’