by Kylie Key
"Is there another one?" I asked.
"No," she said, ”you can have cherry."
"I don't really like cherry," I teased.
Daniela ignored me and placed the cherry truffle on my plate. In an indignant voice she said, "Daddy worked very hard today. He deserves a treat. He put new skin on a boy's toes ‘cause they were burned." She crossed her arms precociously, like she was the operating theater manager, "And he fixed up a little boy's face, where a naughty dog bit it."
I glanced across to Cassian, he was looking straight at me. "Give it to Domi," he directed Daniela, but his eyes didn't leave mine.
"But it's your favorite, Daddy," Daniela said, and she slunk over to him, sitting on his lap and putting her arms around his neck. "I picked it special for you."
She really was a Daddy's girl, and it was sweet to see her snuggle up to Cassian. It reminded me of a younger version of myself, cuddling with Dad, though I was too big for sitting on his knee these days.
"Dominique's had a big operation and has a very sore knee. She deserves a special treat."
Daniela eyeballed Cash, her little face showing defiance, but then she softened as Cash pouted at her and she gently kissed him on the lips. My heart fluttered at this display of pure, unconditional love. Daniela jumped off Cash, swapped the chocolates and hugged me.
"I want your knee to get better soon, so we can jump on the trampoline again,” she said.
"Yes! I miss that.”
"Spider was asking about you," Cassian said, then correcting himself, "I mean Malachi. And Jill. They've both missed your visits."
“Well, you know I haven't been driving, and I'll be back at school this week," I snapped.
Cassian blinked in surprise and I grabbed a tissue, pretending to blow my nose, just so I could cover my burning cheeks.
"I can take you in tomorrow, if you like," Dad said, as he stuffed his chocolates into his mouth, like he was afraid Mom would catch us out.
I hoped that Dad would have forgotten about it the next morning, and I was relieved to find he'd gone to work. But he was back after lunch and rallied me around.
"You want me to take you to see Malachi now?" It was more a statement than a question.
“No, I can drive myself,” I said.
“Are you sure? I have time.”
“I’m going to have to start driving to school, so I may as well start now,” I said, with an undisguised irritation.
Dad looked taken aback and I grabbed my keys and bag and strode out. I had no choice but to go. I knew I would be letting down Jill, as much as Malachi, if I left it too much longer.
Jill was ecstatic to see me and wanted to hear about my trip and know every detail about my surgery and my recovery. I tried to make it sound as if I'd been told to be extra cautious, which is why I hadn't come in to see Malachi. She said she understood, her husband had had knee surgery some time ago and had been out of action for six or eight weeks. Knees could be tricky things, she said.
I had taken my crutches, probably unnecessarily, but I wanted to give the impression I was still very much an invalid. I was clumsy, knocking them into the door as Jill lead me through. Malachi's head turned at the clattering sound and his smile caused an unexpected pounding of my heart, making me realize I'd been in denial about how much I missed him.
I waited at the foot of his bed while Jill set up the chair for me. I balanced my crutches against the wall and hopped over. Malachi asked her to raise his bed. I didn't make eye contact, looking around the room as if it was my first time. Benji the bear sat under his arm.
"Hey," he said, waiting until Jill had left, "how did your surgery go?"
"It went well, thanks," I said.
"I've missed you," he said, and my heart lurched, but I was determined not to show it.
"I thought Mrs Marshall was reading you stories."
"She is," he said, "but I'm not so keen on The Hunger Games. She puts me to sleep faster than you." I kept my stone face on. I wasn't going to succumb to his jokes. I looked along to his leg that was elevated in a pulley strap. "That was a joke, Dominique," he said lightly.
"How's your foot?" It came out blunter than I had intended. Cassian had told me they'd been grafting his foot. It was a difficult surgery, one that might determine his ability to ever walk normally again.
He didn't answer, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him raise his hand.
"Dominique," he whispered, and he waved his fingers. It would have been impertinent to pretend I hadn't seen it, so I quickly joined my hand to his, but not looking at him. He clasped it firmly. "What's happened Dominique?" he asked. "Have I upset you?"
"I can't stay," I said, fighting to steady my chin, thankful for the mask. I tried to release my hand. He held it firmly.
"Dominique?" He sounded anguished and my composure wilted.
"I know you think I'm a joke," I blurted, and without warning, tears stung my eyes. "I saw you with your friends, laughing about Benji Bear. I'm sorry I'm just some silly little schoolgirl who gave you a stupid teddy bear." I wrenched my hand from his and pressed it onto the bed to give myself leverage to push up out of the chair. Malachi tried to cover my hand with his, but I was too fast for him.
"Dominique, that's not true," he said. "I don't know why you think that."
"I saw you and your friends throwing Benji around, laughing about him." I moved the chair to the side. "I came to tell you that I was going to have surgery and I saw you making fun of Benji."
He frowned, looking puzzled for a moment. "Only one of them was my friend. Jed." There was a hint of desperation to his voice now. "Jed came from Vegas to see me. I haven't seen him since school. They were his friends." I kept one hand on the chair and shifted my balance onto my good leg. "Dominique, I don't know what you saw, but they were just playing around, I swear."
"I SAW YOU THROW BENJI," I shouted, startling myself with my own ferocity.
"Dominique, Dominique," he pleaded, "listen to me. Jed and I played football together. He wanted to see if I still had an arm on me. That's why we were throwing him." His hand tried to extend for mine but he couldn't stretch far enough. He tried to sit himself up straighter, difficult to do with his leg raised, but again he reached for me. Inches separated my hand from his. “Dominique, I love Benji, he's the best gift I've ever been given." He spoke like Benji was something real. His fingers tapped on the bed sheet, his eyes were filled with tears. "Dominique, please."
This was why I loved him. His sincerity, his authenticity, his kindness.
I slid my fingers closer. He covered them.
"Come here," he ordered, his voice low and husky. Without thinking, I hopped along till we were face to face. He lifted his hand, unhooking the elastic from my left ear, the mask dropping, exposing my mouth.
"Mala..." I started to protest, thinking of germs, bacteria, infections. Our eyes were locked and there was a sense of inevitability as he leaned forward, and before I could finish his name, his lips were on mine, pressing gently. At some time in those few fleeting seconds, I closed my eyes and felt myself swept up and away, but then just as suddenly, it was all over.
I opened my eyes to find him looking at me and instantly my cheeks flushed.
"You're beautiful Dominique," he said, and his fingers grazed my cheek. "I knew you were.” I could think of nothing to say, my mind a muddle of a kiss that should never have happened, but one that I knew I'd never forget. "I think about you all the time, you're the best thing to happen to me."
My eyes started to water and I reached for my mask, trying to reposition it. Rules had to be kept. Strict hygiene practices needed to be kept for patient safety. Malachi didn't care about that. He leaned forward, pushing the mask aside and kissed me again. This time his lips pressed firmer, longer and as we stayed joined I momentarily forgot our reality, that I was an injured gymnast and he was a burns survivor. In that kiss we were just a girl and a boy with pounding hearts and adrenaline coursing through our veins.
M
aybe it was the pain in his foot, or the pain in my knee, or just the need to breathe that made us separate, but as we did he rolled onto his back and I stretched my leg out, both of us grinning. He patted the bed. I sat down, glancing over to the window to make sure no one was there and before I adjusted my mask into position, I whispered, "I love you Malachi."
Malachi touched my arm and spoke my name, "Dominique." That word sent butterflies fluttering through my stomach. He stroked my skin, and in that moment his eyes darkened and he looked down at his hand. “I...I think the world of you, " he stuttered, “but...”
I tensed, went rigid, an instantaneous reaction.
“But I'm just an immature schoolgirl and you prefer tattooed blondes." I finished his sentence for him, snatching my arm away, standing up and hopping across to my crutches and bag. I was a fast hopper and my only thought was a swift getaway.
I'd made a fool of myself. Let myself be caught up in a moment. Pretended that an older boy could think I was special, when, as Taylor Jensen already knew, I was a bore, a failure, a bad kisser. And Malachi had now discovered that fact for himself. I slid open the door but I couldn't look him in the eye. I stared at his foot.
"I start school this week," I said, "I won't be able to visit anymore."
“DOMINIQUE!" and I imagined it was the loudest sound his voice could make. It stopped me in my tracks, his face red with exertion from one scream. I imagined him begging me to kiss him again, but he'd pushed a book out from beneath his pillow. His mouth opened soundlessly, his voice emptied from calling my name. His eyes pleaded with me to take it.
I felt a complete sinking of my heart. He didn't want anything to do with me. He was giving back the Benji Bear book. I really was that pathetic. An injured gymnast with no future. A failure, a girl with a silly crush, with silly fantasies.
I snatched at the book, shoving it into my bag. I stalked out as fast as my crutches could take me, not waiting for the elevator but going into the stairwell. There I stopped, removing my hat, gloves and mask and clutching them into a tightly rolled up ball. I repositioned my crutches and slowly descended the stairs, stopping on a random floor to find a restroom. I used a paper towel to dab my face and blow my nose, pulled my hair out and rebraided it more tightly and, satisfied I looked presentable, practiced a smile in front of the mirror. I looked at my lips, the lower one pouting, trembling, as I remembered Malachi's kiss. I traced my finger along it, willing it to stop quivering. How perfect his kiss had been, sweet, soft, gentle. Just as Ainsley had described a kiss should be.
I pressed firmly against my mouth, covering it with my hand. I had to shake myself from my daydream, forget about what had happened. Forget I'd blurted out a declaration of love. An unrequited declaration of love.
Malachi didn't love me. His kiss was likely a teenage boy thing, an impulsive urge to feel something, someone, a connection, a touch. He was human after all. I’d totally misread it, misinterpreted it. He liked me visiting, he liked my stories, my company. Nothing more. I'd created some fanciful world where I was the his sole reason for living. One where he had fallen madly in love with me.
I splashed cold water over my face and stared at myself in the mirror. What a fool I was. I needed to embrace reality, I needed to move on. I'd done my stint of volunteering, fulfilled my résumé requirements. It was pointless to think about him anymore, pointless and stupid. I'd humiliated and embarrassed myself enough for one summer.
I put my crutches into the back of my car and dropped my bag on the passenger seat, pulling out the Benji book. Benji Bear plays Football had been his favorite story because Benji had scored the winning touchdown, even though his knee had to be taped up after a player had deliberately kicked him. Benji hadn't retaliated, he'd been more focused than ever on playing his best.
With tears in my eyes I flung the book onto the seat. A silly child’s book, read by a silly girl. I fished out my sunglasses, put them on and, full of shame, drove myself home.
MALACHI
I can't let her love me. I don't want her to love me.
She's beautiful, she's a high school senior, she's a gymnast and she has dreams and her whole life planned out.
I can't give her anything.
I don't know if I'll ever walk again, ever work again. I hate being in hospital, but I'm scared because I don't know what will happen to me when I'm ready to get out of here.
I can't go back to my Grandpa's.
I have nothing.
I won't let her love me.
CHAPTER 8
All I wanted to do was hide. And cry. And turn back time.
Hiding and crying was easy. For two days I shut myself in my room, feigning headaches and a painful knee, but the clock couldn't go back. The embarrassing announcement of love kept replaying over and over in my head, making me cringe, I love you Malachi. I could only hope that Malachi's medication gave him memory loss.
I tried to get myself excited for school. Ainsley called us over so we could decide what we'd wear on our first day back. Ainsley's Mom had set up a lunch table out by the pool as a back-to-school celebration, and we swam and lay out in the sun, catching up on each other's summer. I was determined to be bright and cheerful and pleasant. I wouldn't think about my horrible summer and my list of failures. Senior Year would be a brand new start.
My cheerfulness lasted two words. "Hi Trieste."
“Hi Domi, what Taylor did was absolutely despicable.”
My cheeks flushed. It was the last thing I wanted to be reminded of. I had long deleted those screenshots, but likely I would never forget the damning words.
"I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled.
But it seemed everyone else did. I had to listen to a full blown dissection of Taylor Jensen and his disgusting, vile online comments. I was tempted to retaliate with a commentary on Taylor’s own poor kissing skills, but for some reason I thought about Benji Bear. Benji had been kicked in the leg by the big, bully bear from the other team, but he had sucked it up and kept playing, scoring the winning touchdown. I suspected that I needed to suck this one up, too. I knew it was a situation I would never win.
“Anyway, Taylor’s a jerk,” I heard Trieste say.” You're too good for him, Domi."
My eyes bulged and I bit on my lower lip, shocked by her kind remark. Rendered speechless, in fact. I took her in a hug, but my self esteem was brought back down to earth with a thud. "Domi, have you put on weight?"
"Maybe," I muttered, my cheeks flaming again as I scanned down my body. My stomach was flat, but were my thighs a little chunkier? Well, possibly they were. What would you expect from not being able to exercise properly all summer?
"Trieste, don't be so mean," Ainsley scolded, and I felt comforted by her defense of me, until the next words that came out of her mouth, "You know Domi can't train after knee reconstruction."
I looked at the cinnamon pastry on my plate with resignation; I couldn't eat that now.
"You know Domi," Ainsley continued, "if you wear your one piece, the leg line makes your legs look longer and slimmer."
“Yeah." I nodded. "Hey, it's so hot, I might take another swim." I slid back into the pool. I did a length of breast stroke and then started freestyle, I needed to burn as many calories as possible. Ainsley is an airhead, Damon had said, she's changed. I didn't want him to be right. I filled my lungs with oxygen and swam underwater, hoping that when I came up nobody would know the difference between pool water and tears.
Trieste and Ainsley weren't worth crying about. I couldn't be a baby around them. A boy I knew had half of his skin burnt off, he might lose his foot. I couldn't cry because someone called me fat.
I swam a few more lengths then hopped out, quickly wrapping my towel around me before anyone could stare at my excess flesh. I checked my phone and announced, "Oh hey, Paola needs me to babysit. I have to go." A big fat lie.
"But Domi, I wanted us to do makeup. I have some gorgeous new lip colors to try," Ainsley said. "And we haven't chosen our cloth
es."
I threw my sundress on and quickly buckled up my brace. "Call me and let me know," I said, fake smiling at everyone, "you know what's in my wardrobe." I gathered up my things quickly and waved goodbye.
"Okay," Ainsley said, "I will. See you tomorrow. Love you." But she didn't get up to see me out. She rolled over on the sun lounger and started tanning her back.
I walked through the house to say thank you to Ainsley's Mom, relieved to find she was talking on her phone. I mouthed a goodbye and waved excessively. She pointed at my knee and gave a concerned look. I nodded reassuringly, giving her a thumbs up, then rushed out to my car, scared I might cry again.
I wore my short, blue polka dot skirt and pale pink top, like Ainsley told me to. I wore my hair straightened, like she told me to. I wore large silver hoop earrings. Because she told me to.
And when she said that Logan Newman had invited "us" to sit at his table for lunch, I followed because I was desperate to belong. I wanted everything to be the way I imagined senior year would be. Best friends having fun, talking and laughing.
I slid in beside Ainsley, looking up to see Taylor Jensen about to sit directly across from me. He maneuvered his long legs under the table, accidentally knocking my foot. I pulled it away, briefly catching his eye and mumbling an apology.
He gave me a look, a lift of his chin, a raised eyebrow, a smile that verged on a sneer.
I said, "Hi Taylor," but he ignored me, acting like he'd suddenly gone deaf. Everybody noticed, and an awkward silence prevailed until Logan said, "So anybody else got The Mac for chem?" The chemistry teacher he was referring to was Mr Mackle, known for his dreadlocks and outlandish pants, usually bright prints. Today he'd worn green flamingo pants. I smiled and nodded and said yes, as did Ella, and it was the only thing I said all lunch period. I ate my yogurt and fruit salad as slowly as I could and kept my head down, scrolling through my phone as if I was some sort of busy.
And then, when the bell rang and we stood up to leave, Taylor said, "Hey, Dominique."
