My Skylar Page 8

  We were all putting on a brave face, trying to act as normal as possible: Davey with his crude jokes and Angie taking photos.

  On the final night before Skylar had to leave, Angie was being particularly annoying with the camera, telling us to pose, which she normally didn’t do. I had pulled her aside and asked as politely as possible if she could lay off the clicking for one night. She told me Skylar had specifically requested she bring the camera tonight and take pictures of all of us, particularly of her and me. That was unlike Skylar to want her picture taken.

  For the rest of that evening, I kept obsessing about what Angie told me until I came to a conclusion that I just couldn’t accept: Skylar wanted her picture taken because she thought there was a chance she wouldn’t be coming back.

  My chest tightened in agony, and I filled with a silent rage, having to excuse myself to the bathroom. She couldn’t possibly make it through the next few months if that was what she was thinking. I needed to talk to her.

  At one point, she said she had to go upstairs to get something. When she didn’t come back down right away, I followed her.

  She jumped when I startled her as I entered the bedroom. My heart fell when I noticed tears in her eyes. She had come up here to cry alone.

  I ran over to the bed and held her in my arms. My eyes were watering, but I fought like hell to keep the tears from falling.

  Do your job, Mitch. Be her rock.

  “Listen to me, Skylar. You need to keep your head up no matter how hard it gets. There’s power in positive thinking. If the two of us do it, that’s double the power. You have to believe that everything is going to be okay. I mean, you have to truly believe it, and it will happen.”

  She wiped her red eyes on my shirt. “What if you’re wrong? What if I never come home?”

  “Questions that begin with ‘what if’ are based on fear, nothing else. You’re scared, but you have to have faith that God won’t let that happen.”

  “How do you know there’s a God?”

  I knew how I wanted to answer that but stopped to think about the best way to explain it to her. “Because once, when I was a little boy, I felt hopeless, like my world was ending. I prayed hard one night and asked him to send me a sign that he was listening.”

  “What happened?”

  “The very next day, I met you for the first time.”

  I knew she could see the tears now burning my eyes, but I still wouldn’t let them fall. She gave me a chaste kiss on the lips and said, “And he sent you to me.”

  I grabbed her face. “He can’t take you away from me because our story’s not finished.”

  She put her forehead on mine. “To be continued.”

  “To be continued,” I said over her lips.

  “Can you do me a favor?” she asked.

  “Anything.”

  “Can you tell Davey and Angie I’m very sorry but that I just want to be alone for the rest of the night?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then, when they’re gone, come back. Spend the night with me.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “What?”

  “Not like that. I just want you to sleep next to me tonight. I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

  “Of course, I will. My mother would be okay with it, I think, but I don’t see Tish allowing it.”

  “I’ll talk to her. After they leave, just go home, get your pajamas and come back.”

  I ran my hand through her hair, tucking some strands behind her ear. “Okay.”

  ***

  When I returned to Skylar’s that night, Tish let me in. She was normally extremely strict and would have never allowed me to sleep in her daughter’s room under any other circumstances. So, I had to make sure Skylar had cleared it with her. “Are you sure this is okay?”

  She took a sip of her wine and nodded. “I trust you.”

  My chest tightened, unsure I could even trust myself 100-percent. “Thank you.”

  Before I turned to go upstairs, for the first time, Tish cried in front of me. “I’ve tried everything, Mitch, tried everything to make her smile this week, to keep her hopes up. All she wants is you. She needs to feel safe tonight. I know you need that, too. This has been tough for you, too. That being said, I know you won’t do anything stupid.” I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a warning.

  With that, she watched me walk up to her daughter’s room, trusting that I wouldn’t take advantage of the rare opportunity gifted to us.

  There was one small lamp on, and Skylar had been reading a book. Except for a poster on her closet door of one of those stupid boy bands that was a few years old, her room wasn’t girly at all. It was mostly gray and white, no muss, no fuss and classy just like she was.

  She placed her book on the nightstand when she noticed me. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I walked toward the bed unsure whether I was supposed to just plant myself under the covers. I decided to hold my horses and sat at the edge. She was wearing a pink, cotton sleep shirt.

  She grinned. “I told you this would be okay.”

  “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting your mother to go for this.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can get away with when you have cancer.”

  She was being funny, but anytime the C word was spoken aloud, I felt sick.

  I tried to make a joke. “Wanna go rob a Dairy Queen, then?”

  She laughed. “I like your pajamas.”

  I had worn plaid, flannel bottoms and a t-shirt that Davey gave me for Christmas last year that said, Tell Your Boobs To Stop Staring at My Eyes. I suppose it would have been funnier if I weren’t actually trying to figure out whether or not she was wearing a bra. I scolded myself for even thinking about that at a time like this, but I couldn’t help it. She looked so beautiful.

  I hadn’t moved from my spot. “It feels weird being able to sleep here. I almost don’t even know what to do with myself.”

  “You can start by getting under the covers with me.” She pulled her blankets off, and I crawled in next to her, resting my head on her shoulder. She smelled like shampoo and freshly-showered skin. There was no place in the world I’d have rather been.

  “This feels nice,” I said into the crook of her arm. “What were you reading?”

  She giggled. “Just trying to get my mind off of things. You don’t really want to know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Trust me…you don’t.”

  “Now, I really want to know.”

  “Okay, then.” She reached over to her nightstand and handed me a paperback that had a shirtless guy on the cover. There was a blindfolded woman wrapped around his torso.

  Well, shit.

  “Skylar Seymour…does your mother know you read this stuff?”

  She grinned impishly. “I stole it from her room.”

  “You’re a bad girl. It says right here on the back that it’s not suitable for people under the age of 18.”

  She snatched it from me. “I’m almost 16, same difference.”

  “Not exactly, but I won’t tell. Actually, I kind of like it.”

  “Like you don’t have stuff that’s worse than this lying around?”

  “No comment.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  We both laughed then fell into a comfortable silence before she abruptly shut the lamp off and lay down on her left side, facing away from me.

  I turned in her direction and wrapped her in my arms, breathing against her back. I was tense, afraid of getting a hard-on, which I knew was inevitable. My heart started to race, filled with so many emotions. Going against my own advice to her, I became filled with worry, scared for tomorrow, albeit immeasurably grateful for tonight. On top of all those emotions, my cock twitched, which really couldn’t be helped as long as her body was against mine.

  After a few minutes, she turned around, and our faces were just inches apart. “I could feel your heartbeat. What were you thinking about?” she whispered.

/>   “Don’t you always know what I’m thinking?”

  She tapped my head. “There’s too much going on in there tonight to figure it out. My signals are crossed.” She put my hand over her chest. “Feel mine.”

  Her heart was beating just as fast. When she slid my hand off, it brushed along her soft breast. I knew now that she definitely didn’t wear a bra to sleep, and my dick rose to confirm it.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I am, now that you’re here.”

  Hearing her say that made my stomach unsettled because I knew that tomorrow, I wouldn’t be. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head.”

  She took a deep breath. “It changes by the minute, but right now, it’s that I just wish I knew what to expect with the chemo. The doctor says everyone takes to it differently. I could get really sick, or I could be just fine. There is no way to know.”

  “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I know you’ll be able to handle it even if it’s not easy. Anytime you can’t, if I’m not there, I want you to pick up the phone, and I’ll stay on with you for as long as you need me to. Promise me that you’ll call me anytime you need me, day or night.”

  She was still lost in thought when she said, “Okay.”

  I was trying to be strong, but deep down, I was scared shitless.

  Aside from the occasional sound of a car passing by, the room was completely quiet. We continued to face each other. I wanted to kiss her so badly but didn’t know where that would lead. She wasn’t wearing a bra or pants under her long shirt. I knew if I started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Tish had said she trusted me, and I couldn’t betray that. Not to mention, now would not be the time to push things with Skylar.

  She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry that I ruined what could have been such a special moment.”

  I brushed my hand against her cheek. “What are you talking about?”

  “The night I told you I had cancer. You were opening up to me. You told me you wanted to take the next step.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m not going anywhere. As soon as you make it through this, we can pick up where we left off.” When her worried eyes trailed downward, I pulled her face toward me. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere, Skylar.”

  “What are we anyway, Mitch? You’re not my boyfriend. I call you my friend, but it feels like so much more. What’s the definition? And with what’s about to happen to me, what can I possibly be to you now?”

  There was only one answer that made the most sense to me. “Everything. You’re…everything to me.”

  Instead of responding, she turned back around facing away and backed into me to spoon her. This time, I allowed myself to fully relax. Unfortunately, with her ass up against me, that meant my dick grew to full attention. I gently brushed my thumb along her side. Being with her like this, was the most intimate thing I had ever done with anyone. Sure, I’d been with girls, but all of it paled in comparison to this moment, just holding Skylar, drowning out the world.

  The only thing I knew for sure in life was that I loved this girl, but I couldn’t tell her now. She would think it was only because she had cancer when the truth was I’d been in love with her for almost the entire time I’d known her. I couldn’t let her believe I was only saying it now out of fear.

  My hand ran down the length of her torso. Realization came in waves, and when it hit me this time, it was like a ton of bricks: there was a cancer growing inside of this little, perfect body, a cancer that if left untreated, was a ticking time bomb that would likely kill her.

  I grabbed a hold of her tighter and felt tears sting my eyes. Please stop. There was nowhere I could run if I started to lose it.

  Then, I heard her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “It’s okay to cry.”

  I shut my eyes, willing the tears away, but she knew. She could feel it.

  “I’m not crying,” I said as the first teardrop fell.

  She turned around. “Yeah, and you’re not hard, either.”

  We both burst into laughter with tears pouring from our eyes.

  Skylar fell asleep in my arms about fifteen minutes later.

  I didn’t sleep at all that night. I chose to stay up and listen to the sound of her breathing instead, each breath reassurance that she was still here, that everything was going to be fine.

  It had to be.

  I watched the sun begin to rise on a day I wished would never come. Then, for the first time since the little girl in braids came into my life, I prayed to a God I hoped was still listening.

  CHAPTER 11

  SKYLAR

  “Just do it.”

  Lizete held my father’s electric shaver but was refusing to turn it on. My new stepmother was the perfect person for this job. We weren’t close enough for it to really affect her like it would my mother, and I couldn’t bear to do it myself. So, a few days after my hair started falling out in chunks, I asked her to meet me in the bathroom.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes,” I said, staring blankly at my father’s outdated pink bathroom tile.

  “But you still have a lot of hair.”

  “It’s only a matter of days. This way, I can control it.”

  She nodded. “Okay, m’ija, whatever you want.” I hated her nickname for me, the Spanish word for daughter. I wasn’t her daughter. I had to give her credit, though. When she married my father, she hadn’t signed up to have a sick teenager living with them. As much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn’t. She made the best damn arroz con pollo, too.

  She clicked a button, triggering the buzzing sound. I saw nothing but her big, fake boobs before closing my eyes as the blade raked over my head. Focusing on the sound, I continued to keep my eyes shut and told myself this was about preserving my dignity and beating chemo to the punch.

  It’s just hair.

  After a few minutes, a draft blew over my head, and I knew it was all gone.

  When the buzzing stopped, Lizete gently placed her cold hands on my scalp. I still refused to open my eyes. “Can you give me a minute alone?”

  She patted my shoulders. “Sure, m’ija. Come downstairs when you’re ready, and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  I heard the door shut.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…two…two…one.

  I opened my eyes. My heart skipped a beat.

  It’s just hair…until it’s gone.

  I continued to stare into the mirror, hoping that at any moment, the sight of myself bald would get easier to accept. No matter how much you try to prepare yourself for something, you just don’t know how you’ll handle it until it happens. Now, I looked like I had cancer, and the reality of that was hard to take. Pretending that everything was normal would no longer be an option.

  I cried for the first time since arriving in New York over two months ago.

  Up until this moment, nothing had been unbearable. I had already completed the first cycle of a type of chemo called ABVD. It sounds like a sexually transmitted disease, but the letters represent each of the four different drugs in the regimen. Even getting those toxins pumped into me hadn’t been as bad as losing my hair.

  Actually, so far, chemo wasn’t as scary as I’d imagined. To avoid frequent needle sticks in my veins, the drugs were administered right through a port that was inserted under my collarbone.

  The nurses always did their best to cheer me up and take my mind off it without trying to make it seem like a bed of roses. They gave me what I needed without feeding me a load of bullshit. They’d have sour candies to help rid the bad taste in my mouth caused by one of the drugs, Adriamycin. They’d also turn the television onto the entertainment channel for me. I could block out what was actually happening by involving myself in reality television and would forever associate treatment with watching the Kardashians. Khemo.

  My father would stay with me for the full three hours. Once they administered all
four drugs, they’d flush my port, and I was good to go home where I’d try to pretend I didn’t have cancer until the next treatment. Forgetting was easier in the beginning.

  I rubbed my fingers along the top of my prickly head now, wondering how I was going to face Mitch looking like this. He was scheduled to visit over Christmas, which was coming up in less than a week. I hadn’t even picked out a wig yet. I wasn’t expecting to lose my hair so fast since I’d managed to make it through the entire first cycle with no hair loss. To have it come out in chunks all of a sudden was devastating because I was starting to hope that maybe I’d get lucky. Now, Lizete and I had plans to visit a wig shop in Bensonhurst tomorrow.

  She had left me an assortment of her hats to choose from on my bed. I picked a gray, knit beret, feeling immediate relief when I looked into the mirror after putting it on.

  My phone chimed. I grabbed it from my pocket and noticed a text from Mitch.

  Just thinking of you. I can’t wait to see you this weekend. How are you doing?

  I wanted to tell him that I was miserable and scared about letting him see me without hair, but I didn’t see the point in worrying him when he was so far away.

  Skylar: Doing okay. How are you?

  Mitch: I miss you. So does Seamus. He hates me because he thinks I’m keeping you away.

  Skylar: I miss you too.

  Typing those words had made me cry again. I lay on the bed staring up at the textured paint on the ceiling, licking my tears as they fell. I missed him. I missed his smell. I missed home. I missed my life before cancer.

  I hugged my stuffed Tigger tightly. With pink walls and white furniture, my room at my father’s house was girly and filled with my old stuffed animals. When my parents first got divorced, I used to take a lot of my toys with me to feel more at home, and most of them were still here.

  I could smell Adobo seasoning. Lizete was cooking something.

  She called from downstairs. “Skylar?” I cringed at how the ‘r’ in my name always rolled off her tongue. “Do you need anything? Lunch is almost ready.”