Infinity: Based on a True Story

by Shanora Williams

  “You’re telling me Paris lives inside that magazine?” He sat down beside me and then took the magazine from me.

  I yelped as I sat up and reached forward, trying to snatch it back but he wouldn’t let me get it. “Max, come on. I wasn’t done reading it!”

  “What’s so interesting about it?” he laughed, scanning the pages.

  “Well, if you give it to me I can tell you.”

  He handed it back to me with a grin. “All right. Tell me.”

  I watched him carefully. He seemed serious enough. He was still smiling, but he was a goofball. This was as serious as he was going to get right now.

  “Well, Paris has a lot to explore. A lot to do. A lot to eat.”

  “I love that last part,” he teased.

  “See—look.” I pointed at the picture of the Eiffel Tower. “I would love to witness this view one day. People say the pictures don’t do it justice. You have to actually be there to know the true beauty of it.”

  Max nodded. He was listening.

  I flipped the page and smiled. “And this bike—I want one so bad, but they are so damn expensive. I would love to just go to Paris, ride around on this bike, and breathe in the city air. That would be so amazing.”

  “You really love this Paris place. I don’t get how you can love it so much if you’ve never been.”

  I grinned. “Will you take me?”

  He looked up at me, a subtle smile on his lips. Tilting his head and taking the magazine from me, he moved forward, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He placed a kiss on my cheek and then my temple.

  “My girl gets whatever she wants. When I take over my dad’s club in Wilmington, I will make sure to take you.”

  “I would love that.” I tipped my chin, and his lips were only inches away.

  “I bet you would.”

  “What if I decide I want to live there?”

  “Then I will be there with you.”

  “Nah-uh!”

  “Yeah I would,” he laughed. “I promise. Wherever you go, I go, babe.”

  “But what about the club?”

  He winked. “I can manage.”

  “So you promise to take me?”

  “I promise to take you one day. I swear to you. I will give you whatever you want. No questions asked.” His face turned serious, and before long his warm lips pressed down on mine.

  I sighed as I melted in his arms, as if it weren’t hot enough. He was only cranking up the heat.

  “I hope you are a man of your word, Grant.”

  He smirked, and then he hopped up. He wore a mischievous grin as he picked me up in his arms, and marched for the pool. I squealed and screamed for him to put me down, but I couldn’t stop my giggling.

  We were in the cold water, beneath the clear, blue mass. While we were under, I saw him smile at me, and I smiled back, all of my teeth on display.

  When we resurfaced, I tackled him, but as he murmured how much he loved me as he held me around the waist, I caved, wrapping my legs around him.

  I loved him.

  I loved him so much.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We caught some lunch a few blocks away.

  I downed a sweet, cream cheese-filled pastry with chocolate drizzle while Max practically ate like a pig, devouring pastries, sandwiches made with baguettes, macaroons and even some type of pasta with tomato sauce.

  For someone so tall and slender, he had a real appetite on him and for a while, as I watched him eat, his hunger seamed insatiable.

  But, alas, we are finally on our way to our first tourist stop. We got lost a few times on the way, so by the time we reach it, it’s nearing 7:30 PM.

  “Sorry… I could’ve sworn we were on the right train,” Max apologizes as we walk down the sidewalk. We pass several pedestrians, some of whom are cuddled up, holding hands and smiling at one another.

  I intentionally keep my eyes away from them, focusing on my surroundings, the nicely paved roads and apartments—or flats, as the beautiful British call them.

  Max is pushing the new surprise he told me about.

  A real Wood B Duomatic bicycle that I have been dying to have since I was a teenager. It cost Max an arm and a leg.

  If he hadn’t pre-ordered it and had it delivered, I would have told him to return it immediately. Actually, I did tell him to give it back, but it didn’t happen.

  Max can be just as stubborn as I can.

  “It’s okay. We have two more days. Don’t sweat it. This city is huge. There’s no way we can get through it all in one day.” I look towards Max.

  He shakes his head, scratching the back of it. “Today was a waste of a day.”

  “Nah.” I smile. “It was actually fun. I saw more than I thought I would today.” Our stroll continues. Max pushes my brand new bike through the Jardin du Palais-Royal gardens, looking at me strangely.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I just thought about something.”

  I stop walking. “And what’s that?”

  “Just how in the hell are we gonna get this bike back to the U.S.? International flights are a bitch. I can only imagine the shipping.”

  I laugh out loud, grabbing the silver handles of the bike and running my fingers across the shiny blue paint. “That’s what you’re worried about?” My shoulders lift carelessly. “I won’t really be able to use it once we’re back. John wouldn’t even let me touch this thing if he saw it.”

  “John, John, John.” Max looks me dead in the eyes, a glint in his. “Have you realized just how many times you’ve mentioned him since we’ve landed? I’m starting to think you’d rather him be here than me.”

  “That is not true!”

  He doesn’t look assured at all.

  “I mean,” I give a slight eye roll, “do I miss him? Yes. A lot. But this is our trip. A gift from you. I wouldn’t want to share this experience with anyone else because the way I always pictured it, it was me going with you. Not John. Not even Sonny. You.”

  “That’s touching,” he says with sarcasm laced in his voice. He grins boyishly. The sun makes his teeth sparkle, the wind blowing his cologne past my nostrils.

  I start to grip the bike handles, but a wave of nausea hits me and I grip the strap of my backpack, staggering a bit.

  His face straightens, eyebrows knitting. “You all right? Need to sit?”

  My head bobs, and to avoid any conflict or cause a scene I walk to the nearest empty bench. Once seated, I study my surroundings, calming myself and waiting for the nausea to fade.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually here… in freaking Paris,” I breathe, hoping it helps to get rid of his looks of concern.

  “Me either. I honestly didn’t think you’d agree to come.” His dimples show as his head drops. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way.”

  “What?” I give him my undivided attention and when his face changes from content to upset, I frown, placing my hand on his arm. “Max, what is it?”

  “This trip wasn’t exactly planned for you.” He lifts his head, brown eyes connecting with mine.

  When he looks me over, his gaze uncertain, I realize what he’s saying.

  “Ohh. I get it. It’s not supposed to be me sitting here. It’s supposed to be some other girl?”

  He frowns. “No, Shannon. What?” He busts out laughing. “No. It was only supposed to be for me.”

  My face twists. “I don’t get it…”

  “This was a one-way trip but I pushed it ahead for you so you would be able to join me. I was going to live here, start fresh once you… well, you know.” He pauses, and I swallow the brick in my throat. “I thought it wasn’t possible to bring you anymore with the disease plaguing your life. So I thought why not move somewhere where I’ll never be able to forget her… you know?”

  “Oh.” My lips press together and I lower my gaze.

  “Not that I would have forgotten you anyway,” he states, immediately ba
cking himself up. “It’s just that… I still can’t believe it.” His voice weakens. It’s lighter. “I just can’t believe that it’s you I’m going to lose. Out of everyone there could be… it just has to be you.”

  “You won’t lose me. I will always be here… somehow.”

  He struggles with a frown and a smile. “How can you take it so lightly?”

  “I guess I’ve just gotten used to the idea of dying.”

  A look of pain runs across his face like a quick shadow. He tries hiding it but I spot it as clear as day. “I haven’t.”

  Our eyes lock, only briefly. I have nothing else to say.

  “Uh, listen.” He points to the bike, changing the subject quickly. “I know you can’t ride that thing so what do you say on pretending to be ET and Elliot. I pedal and you ride this baby to moon.”

  “That is a very odd scenario,” I giggle, “but okay.” I clasp my hands together, standing as I adjust my jetpack. “Let’s do it!”

  His mouth quirks up as he grabs the bike and stands behind the pedals.

  After helping me sit on the seat, he orders me to hang onto him as he grips the handlebar. I clutch him around the middle, way too giddy for this ride.

  “Ready?” he asks over his shoulder, excitement laced in his deep voice.

  “Yeah, I think so.” I look around. People are leaving the park. “I think they’re closing,” I say, but he totally disregards me, pushing off and pedaling like hell.

  I yelp, clinging tighter to him, the cool breeze rushing by me, blowing through my hair. Max looks around, ducking and bobbing his head, pretending he can’t see.

  “You gotta tell me where to go, Shakes!” he laughs. “This wind is burning my eyes!”

  “I can’t! You’re going too fast!” I squeal.

  He zigzags through the garden, riding right by tourists, laughing heartily as we go whizzing through the boxed hedges.

  “Hey!” A security guard calls after us.

  “Oh shit!” Max pedals faster as the security guard starts to run in our direction. I squeal as he makes a large loop around and zooms through the perfectly trimmed grass, hurrying for the exit.

  “Oh my God!” I scream.

  He speeds through the park exit, pedaling until the security guard stops and waves a fuming fist at us.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Max busts out laughing, riding the bike casually for about two minutes until we come to a stop in front of the Louvre museum.

  I hop off the bike, exhilarated, laughing so hard my chest hurts. Max kicks the kickstand down, glancing back once more to make sure we aren’t being followed.

  “That was insane!” I shout.

  “I guess we were riding too fast, huh?” he chuckles.

  “Way too fast. That was really fun, though!”

  “Still a rebel, I see.” His eyes soften a touch as he looks me over briefly. He then points his line of sight towards the Louvre. “I heard Mona Lisa’s smile is in there.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “We have to go see her. Tomorrow morning, please?” I beg, turning to face him.

  “Sure. Tomorrow it is, Shakes.”

  My chest heaves and Max grabs my hand, eyebrows lifting with concern. “Ten minute check?”

  I hold two thumbs up. “All good. I feel the OPX kicking in.”

  “Okay. Good.” He brings me forward by the shoulders, his eyes turning soft. “I think that’s enough excitement for today, though. Wanna head back to the hotel?”

  “Sure.”

  He pushes the kickstand back, grabbing the handles and walking with me as slowly as I need to go. He doesn’t make me feel weird or awkward about the pace.

  Even as people pass by us, walking rapidly, ready to explore the next big thing, he doesn’t mind. He laughs with me, teasing me—trying to tell me I was afraid of getting caught during the bike escapade.

  “Did you think your life was gonna end?” he asks, still laughing.

  “No, but I thought you were gonna end up tossed in jail,” I tease.

  He hisses, as if it burns. “That would have been really fucked up.”

  Our mix of laughter and chatter continues, even in the Metro and during the train ride back to the hotel.

  When we get back to the hotel, I hang out in Max’s room for a while. We watch funny French movies and chow down on the extra macaroons Max ordered, not having a clue what in the hell the shows are saying. Around 2 a.m., I’m yawning.

  “You need your rest. It’s been a long day,” Max says. “Ten minute check?”

  “I am… exhausted. And I think I need to switch out my OPX bag.”

  Max doesn’t hesitate to pick me up in his arms and take me to the door that connects to my room. He walks through, placing me on the center of the bed and then going for my suitcase, pulling out one of the plastic bags.

  He grabs my silver device next, unlatching the hook, taking out the nearly empty bag, and applying a new one.

  I taught him how to do it at the airport while we waited, just in case I was too tired or too weak to do it myself.

  When he’s all finished, he slips out of the room, allowing me to change into my pajamas. I call for him when I’m done, sliding beneath the cool, puffy sheets and snuggling with the pillows.

  “All good?” he questions, one eyebrow raised.

  “I might need the pink pill.” He squints his eyes at me, confused. “It helps me relax.” I point towards the vanity and he looks back, going for the case of pills. He pulls out one of the pink pills, digs in the fridge for a bottle of water, and I knock it back, smoothing the swallow with a swig of water. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You’re all good now?” he asks for the final time.

  “Yes,” I whisper, revealing an innocent smile as I curl beneath the blanket. “I’m all good.”

  “Okay. Well, goodnight, Shakes.” He walks towards the door again, flipping the light switch as he passes it. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  The room darkens, but shimmers of light seep through from outside, allowing me to still see his tall frame.

  Before he can shut the door, I call after him.

  I could use some company.

  “Max?” I call.

  He pauses. “Yeah?”

  “Today was great. I didn’t mind getting lost with you.”

  He laughs softly. “I didn’t mind getting lost with you either, Shakes.”

  I’m quiet for a moment and he remains in place, unsure if he should proceed to his room or stay in place.

  So, I give him a choice. “Do you… think you can stay in here with me for at least an hour, monitor my breathing?”

  “Oh—right.” He shuts the door, walking back to the bed. “Sonny told me about that. Just listen out?”

  “Yeah. But don’t be like Sonny. She runs a finger under my nose to feel my breath. She’s so damn weird sometimes.”

  We laugh. “Alright. You got it.”

  He takes the seat beside the bed. “You can turn the TV on. I don’t mind.”

  He picks up the remote, flipping to the funny French movies again.

  I listen to him laugh and make smart-ass remarks until it blends in with my dreams. The next thing I know, he’s snoring. I’ve succumbed, and surprisingly my dreams are delightful… at first.

  I dream of John. He’s holding me close, whispering something, but then the image fizzles to Max. He’s holding me in front of the Eiffel tower, his arms wrapped around my waist, mine on his shoulders.

  Our eyes are locked, faces soft and content.

  Blissful.

  Though it shouldn’t be that way.

  John pops up during the dream somehow, searching the city for me, asking everyone if they’ve seen me. He finds me and for some reason I’m kissing Max in front of the tower.

  John calls my name and spots me, and my heart skips a beat. Then he charges towards Max, ready to tackle and fight him, but before he can make it he vanishes into thin air.

  Just like that… he’s gone. And we co
ntinue sharing a kiss, laughing, almost like he was never there to begin with.

  I wake up, panting heavily, looking towards Max, who’s still asleep in the chair. The TV is still on.

  He hasn’t left my side.

  Tucking my hair back and controlling my breathing, I grab the remote control, turning the TV off and relaxing again.

  I flop back and blow out a breath, staring up at the sheer canopy sheets, listening to Max breathe in and out softly.

  Shit. Now that dream is starting to bug me. Why did John just vanish like that? Is that a sign that he’s going to leave me? Or that he’ll find out I’m actually here with Max and not my sister?

  I shift constantly, causing Max to wake up and reach for me. “Hey,” his voice is thick and groggy. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Just can’t sleep.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  “No. I’ll be okay. You can go back to your room if you want. You don’t have to stay in that uncomfortable chair.”

  He sits back in his chair, lips twisting, his body adjusting in the dark. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.”

  “Okay.” I cuddle with the blankets. “Max?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Think you can sing that song for me? You know, the one you always used to sing when you spent the night at my place.”

  “Aw man,” he shakes with laughter. I grin in the darkness. “Okay. One sec.” He sits forward, grabbing my hand and stroking the back of it as he starts to sing I See Fire by Ed Sheeran.

  Now, don’t get me wrong, Max has a horrible voice—all crackly, deep and awkward—but it has always comforted me.

  He sang it one night during karaoke at a bar that had a two-dollar drink night. It was great. Since then, this was the song he’d sing whenever I needed a pick-me-up or needed to be comforted.

  As he sings, I finally start to drift off again.

  And when he’s done and relaxed in his chair, I dream, but this time it’s a peaceful one.

  I’m surrounded by people that love me.

  John.

  Sonny.

  Danny.

  Max.

  My friends from Capri.

  Even Grandma Lane, Aunt Jessie, and my father, Abraham Hales. The only thing is… I’m gone. But I’m glad to be gone. Instead of being at a funeral, they’re celebrating the fact that I’m no longer suffering—that I’m happy.