The Path We Take (Young Love Book 2)

by Kylie Key

  "Oh, you haven't started shaving yet?" Her voice was uncharacteristically brusque. She stomped towards the bedside cabinet, placing the vase there. Malachi's eyes popped open, confused, dull, listless. "I thought you were going to shave today." Jill was not hiding her impatience. She pushed the tray closer to Malachi. "Come on, chop chop."

  That's when Malachi saw me. His eyes startled, but no smile came to his face. I cowered behind Jill, the chocolate box my shield of armor.

  "Look here, we've got beautiful flowers, a visitor, and you haven't eaten or washed yet." Jill sighed with an unapologetic frustration. She pushed the bed remote, taking Malachi by surprise, as he was forced upright. He repositioned himself and reached for the cup.

  "That's good," Jill said, "you need to eat and drink." She checked a machine, giving me a wink as she announced that she'd return shortly.

  I found myself releasing a strained breath, horrified at the sight before me. Malachi looked gaunt, like he was fading away. And the hair on his chin aged him.

  But worst was his eyes — full of despair, full of hopelessness.

  And I feared that I'd done this to him.

  "I don't suppose you're allowed chocolates for breakfast," I said, offering the box.

  "Is everything all right Dominique,” he asked shakily, "your knee?"

  My heart swelled. Here he was, looking like he was on death's door, and his first thought was my wellbeing. So gentle, so genuine. None of my friends had asked me about my knee this week. It was old news, boring, a tedious topic.

  "Malachi," I whispered, my voice barely working, "my knee is fine." I tentatively took a step forward. He put down the cup and held his hand up. I pushed away the tray and clasped his hand in familiar fashion, the warmest sensation of comfort and relief flooding me.

  And in his eyes I saw a spark, a flicker, a resurrection.

  I reached into the pocket of my backpack, retrieving the notes that were carefully folded, and stood in a semi squat position, putting us eye to eye.

  "Malachi, did you write these for me?" I fanned them out, my eyes already welling up.

  He nodded, gripping my hand firmer.

  "I only saw them last night," and my words came tumbling out, "my friend Lucy found them in the Benji book when I took her home after gymnastics. When you gave me back the book I thought it was because you didn't want anything to do with me. So I never looked at it. I just left it in my car." Tears were falling as fast as I was talking. "And now I feel so bad because I hated you. I thought you didn't care about me, but I've made such a big mistake and I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive..."

  "Dominique," he interrupted me softly, shaking his head, "don't be sorry. You don't have to be sorry."

  The tenderness, the forgiveness in his eyes, I didn't deserve it.

  "I was so jealous,” I said, standing up fully, my knee starting to hurt. “Those girls were so beautiful and...” I inhaled on a shaky sob.

  “Dominique, you don't need to be jealous," he paused and his lips barely moved. "Nobody looks at me. There is nobody." His watering eyes rocked my whole being. The boy with the gentlest of hearts had never felt loved.

  I perched myself on the side of the bed and reached out to stroke his forehead, my gloved fingers trailing down the side of his stubbled face. He watched as I traced along his tattooed cheekbone, to his lips. I felt an ache deep inside, something more than regret, something more like grief. Like a loss.

  I'd lost time, precious moments, minutes, days.

  “Malachi, I’m sorry I was so immature...I acted like a spoilt brat,” I said, desperate now to explain myself, “I’m no good with boyfriends. I’ve only had one, and he wasn’t even a real boyfriend. We only went on one date and then to one party and I had to leave the party early because I injured my knee.” I suddenly couldn’t stop talking. “That probably doesn’t even qualify as a boyfriend, does it? I thought he was cute, but he said I was a lousy kisser.”

  Malachi curled my hair around his finger, the gentlest of motions that sent a tingle through my whole body.

  “He must’ve been an idiot,” he said. I giggled nervously. “You didn’t seem like a lousy kisser.”

  “You only kissed me for a few seconds. You probably didn’t get a chance to see how bad I really was,” I said, somewhat brazenly, but his finger was now grazing my cheek and I didn’t feel like myself at all. I felt dizzy, like I was floating above myself.

  “You’re right,” he said, unhooking my mask, “let’s see how bad you really are.”

  I giggled again and I leaned forward so my lips met his, but I was still laughing and after only moments I had to pull away. I apologized, and we tried again, but within seconds we were both laughing.

  I pressed my fingers to his lips. “I love you, Malachi,” I whispered. This time I needed no response. I had learnt that love didn't need to be returned, it only had to be given.

  I snatched at his beanie, dangling it in front of him. "Um, so can I come back and read? Can you tell Mrs Marshall she's out of a job?"

  He broke into an uncertain smile. "You want me to fire Mrs Marshall?"

  I nodded as I giggled. "But be nice about it."

  Malachi ran his hand through his ruffled hair, still self conscious about it. "Mrs Marshall hasn't been in this week," he said, "I think she's got the flu."

  "Oh, you can hardly fire her when she's sick," I said. "Maybe she can do another job?” He looked at me quizzically. "Like do puzzles with you?"

  “I’m not that good at puzzles." He coughed and his voice came out croaky.

  “What about a jigsaw puzzle?" I held up the cup for him and he took several sips. “You know, one of those thousand piece ones," I giggled.

  "Oh yeah, I can just see the two of us hunched over a table."

  His smile lit up his face and I was unable to draw my eyes off of him. Even with hollow cheeks, sallow skin, untidy facial hair he could make my heart skip a beat.

  "I missed you," I said, and with a connected gaze, eyes locked together, fingers intertwined, he became my whole world.

  “I missed you too,” he said, and I loved that he didn’t take his eyes off of me. I felt treasured and cherished and thoroughly content.

  “Oh hey, Jill didn't sound very happy with you." I pointed to the shaving gear on the tray. Malachi dropped his head sheepishly. "Do you want me to help?" I'd never shaved anybody's face before, but surely it couldn't be much different from doing my underarms or legs. I pulled the tray back closer. "Okay, tell me what to do."

  On his instruction, I applied the shaving foam to his jawline, rubbing it in lightly. Then, leaning over, I started by his ear, shaving in downward strips until I got to his nose. I could feel him breathe in my scent. I went slowly, my fingers trembling as they traced around his upper lip, afraid I might cut him. I kept stopping to show him in the mirror. Each time he smiled and approved. Up this close I could see that the criss cross of white lines over his spider web tattoo were scars, making me wonder if his father had been a proper tattooist.

  "Okay, all done," I declared, as I dabbed his face with a washcloth and admired my own handiwork, "I think I just found a new career option."

  Malachi had no energy to protest as I combed his hair, now long enough that I could give him a side parting.

  He rolled his eyes when I showed him in the mirror. “Hey, shouldn't you be in school?" he asked dryly.

  I looked at the time, gulping. Yes, I did have school. Yes, I would be late. Yes, there were bound to be messages on my phone from Dad. But I didn't want to move. I wanted to stay there all day and read him silly stories and take away his pain.

  "Are you trying to get rid of me?" I teased.

  "No," he said, stroking my arm, "but I don’t want you to get into trouble."

  "I do have school, but I'll read a story first," I said, reaching for the Benji book, "I've missed Benji."

  "Me too," he rasped. "Thank you Dominique." His words were straight from the heart, I could see it, his g
ratitude sincere. He lifted his chin a fraction and pursed his lips. “Shall we try again?”

  I smiled and joined my lips to his, his kiss filling my heart with love.

  “Perfect. That boyfriend must have been a loser!”

  I couldn’t stop smiling. I settled Benji next to him and as I read about Benji’s sporting endeavors, I felt transformed, like I'd emerged from the fog, that I’d found myself again. It was like a magic wand had been waved over me, over us, and that everything was now all right in the world.

  Even though I knew it wasn’t.

  Not by a long mile.

  Malachi

  When she wasn’t here I had to try not to think about the pain.

  Every minute seemed like an eternity and I had to remind myself it was only 60 seconds.

  And if I could get through sixty seconds sixty times, then that was 3600 seconds, which was one hour.

  And there are 24 hours in a day and with a bit of luck and medication I could be asleep for half of that, so really it was only 3600 seconds multiplied by twelve that I had to fill up in a day.

  And then, by the time I had done the math and worked that out, then another sixty seconds had passed.

  So that's how I filled my day, counting the seconds till a minute had passed, counting the minutes till an hour had passed.

  And wondering if I’d ever see her again.

  CHAPTER 10

  Cassian and Paola came home early from their Friday date night. They'd had the tradition for as long as I could remember, with Mom, Dad and Damon all being sitters at some point, but in the last year and a half it had become solely my job. And I loved it.

  There were the occasional times when they didn't need me, like when Cassian might have emergency surgery or one of the kids would be sick, but usually it was an easy fifty dollars which went straight into my savings account.

  Cassian and Paola's relationship had been a battle. They'd first met when Cash was in high school and had worked in her restaurant. She was ten years older than him and apparently they had a steamy love affair, but it was years later that they reunited, when Paola was married with two sons. I didn't know the full story, but Paola's sons lived with their father and visited on weekends. However, in the past year or so, Joseph, the older boy who was ten, was coming less often, leaving eight year old Ashton to come on his own.

  Ashton was there tonight. He was a cool kid, laid back and easy going, agreeable to whatever games Daniela and Ryder wanted to play. We were sitting around the coffee table, playing, surprise surprise, Operation, which was Ryder's favorite game. He was going through a phase of wanting to be like his father and he'd made us all wear vinyl gloves and face masks, as if we were real doctors.

  There was a knock on the back door, which at eight o’clock, gave me a fright. But before I even had a chance to consider who it might be, Mom came bursting in, announcing, "Nonna's here!" None of the kids jumped up, as they usually would, too deep in concentration as Ashton was trying to retrieve the funny bone. Daniela waved, but Mom was largely ignored.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  All the kids squealed as Ashton failed, and Daniela snatched the tweezers, ready for her turn.

  Mom's face turned stern and she spoke in a low voice, "Your father tells me you didn't go to school this morning."

  I blew out a frustrated sigh. I had expected this, but I'd thought she would have waited until I got home.

  "Nonna, I got it!" Daniela waved the butterfly piece around triumphantly. She fist pumped in the air, her competitive streak fierce at the age of six. She could already win a game or two off me in a set of tennis.

  Luckily for me, the kids got Nonna involved with the game and then she helped them get ready for bed. We’d just turned out their lights when Cash and Paola arrived home, neither in the mood for a movie. Cash was surprised to see Mom there, tentatively asking, "Is everything all right?" as if he knew Mom’s presence was unwanted.

  "Dominique skipped school this morning," she said, ignoring me and speaking directly to Cash. "Apparently she was at the hospital."

  Cash nodded, winking at me. "Yeah, I heard."

  "It's senior year!" Mom dramatically threw her arms about, "You can't be cutting school already."

  "Drinks anyone?" Paola asked calmly, "Babe? Toni? Domi?"

  Cassian nodded and Mom exaggerated a sigh, saying she needed a glass of brandy. I shook my head and started to tidy the kids' toys away.

  "I don't think it will make any difference," Cash said, stretching out on the couch.

  Mom perched herself on the edge of the armchair. "What's the story then, young lady?" she asked in full authoritative mode, like she was conducting one of her high powered meetings.

  I sat at the end of the couch, making Cash move his feet to the floor. Cash was my ally, he'd support me, he'd talk Mom around if I couldn't. And I was sure I couldn't. If I told Mom the truth she'd dismiss it as being poppycock, nonsense, nothing but an adolescent crush.

  But I knew I couldn't tell anything but the truth.

  Paola brought in a tray of drinks and I waited for Mom to take a sip, hoping it would calm her down.

  "I went to see Malachi this morning," I said, "that's why I left home so early. I hadn't seen him for two weeks and I had kind of left him in a bad way."

  "What do you mean, a bad way?" Mom interrupted.

  "Just that..." I paused, I didn't want to explain all the self-imposed drama, "just that I needed to see him, that's all."

  "You don't get a second chance at senior year Dominique," she said. "There's always someone waiting in the wings who wants that scholarship more than you do."

  "I don't care about the scholarship," I cried, surprising myself, "I don't care about it anymore." Mom gasped, choked on her drink and started coughing. I kept talking as she tried to clear her throat, my words coming in a quick flourish. "Malachi lies in a hospital bed all day. He hasn't been outside for months. He fights for his life every day. He doesn't know if he'll walk again." I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to settle myself.

  "Dominique, yes, this boy is seriously ill, he's suffering through a great ordeal." She looked to Cash for confirmation.

  And Cash affirmed, "He is. It's a traumatic experience."

  "What you're doing for him is tremendous," Mom carried on with an assured ease. "It's fantastic that you've been able to help him out and encourage him. It's...its commendable. But honey, he has a long road ahead, and you need to focus on school and your knee and college and-" She picked up her drink and took a dainty sip this time. "Dominique, you can still have a fantastic future, but you have to work hard, and this boy, well, he has his own future to work on."

  I could feel my heart starting to pound harder and my breathing was quickening and I was reciting my response in my head as she spoke. I was going to say that I loved Malachi, that because he was injured didn't mean that we couldn't have a future together.

  "You said this boy has no family support, and there you are, helping him, so naturally he's going to appreciate it, baby. Of course he is. Otherwise he's in this alone."

  Her patronizing tone left my mouth hanging open. She didn't think there could be anything real between me and Malachi. I felt my chin quiver and twitch. I knew I didn't have the words to express myself, it would be pointless to get into a debate; I'd never win.

  I stood up and stepped towards her. I opened my phone case, my fingers trembling and clumsy as I took out the colored pieces of paper that were preciously tucked in it. I unfolded them and smoothed them out and placed them on the table next to her drink.

  "You think he's using me?" I shouted, "You think he can't love me?" I fast limped from the room, out the back door, run-walking awkwardly down the street, blinded by tears within the first block.

  I felt defeated and hollow, for so many reasons. My own mother couldn't see past Malachi's burns and tattoo, she couldn't see him as a normal boy, and worse, she didn't think a boy could love me for being me.

  I h
eard Mom's tap on the door, followed by her footsteps. Milo, my black and white cat, bolted from the end of my bed, and then I felt Mom's body sitting beside me. She stroked my hair, knowing that I was only pretending to be asleep.

  "Baby, I'm sorry," she said, and her voice wobbled. "I didn't know, baby." She sniffed and I knew she was fighting back tears. "Why haven't you taken me to meet him? I'd really like to meet Malachi." She reached beneath my pillow, tucking Malachi's notes there.

  My anger, my hurt, my bitterness subsided. She waited a minute, still stroking me. Then she sighed and tiptoed towards the door.

  "Mom?"

  "Baby?"

  "I'm going to see him tomorrow."

  "Good," she said, "I'm coming too."

  CHAPTER 11

  Damon's departure for college approached and he had a farewell pool party on the weekend. He'd actually been partying all week as some of his friends had left for out of state colleges. He'd encouraged me to invite all the girls, but he ended up being so drunk that he barely remembered anything the next day.

  I was allowed to take the day off of school to drive up with Damon, and Mom and Dad would follow in the SUV, loaded up with his belongings. I desperately wanted to take the trip, but I was also fretting because Malachi hadn't been well the last few days.

  On Saturday he slept most of the time I was there, waking up briefly when Mom arrived. I had been slightly stressed about Mom meeting him. She had a way of being intimidating, not intentionally, but she could make you feel inferior with her impeccable dress sense and appearance and the big words she used. She was a complete contrast to Dad, who liked to dress casual in surf and sports brands and talk as if he were a teenager. If my Mom wore activewear, it was because she was actually going to be active.

  Mom had brought in a mountain of food for Malachi. She said he must surely be sick of boring, bland hospital food, so she gave him a hamper with protein shakes and organic fresh and dried fruits, and a whole bunch of treats, candy bars, cookies, juice bottles, things which were banned in our house. She justified it by saying Malachi needed to gain weight, though he wasn't to eat all the junk food at once; she'd obviously discussed it with Cassian.