Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  My face drops, and my eyes blink like crazy watching him take the lids off the containers to reveal cut up strawberries, sandwiches with the crust cut off, grapes, even mini-pretzels. “What?” I ask.

  “It’s for you and me.”

  I look over to Becky, who’s not peeling her orange any more. Her hands are frozen mid-air and her mouth is gaping. She looks at me, then back to the spread in front of Elijah and me. “Are you serious?”

  “Took me ages to pick all the grapes off that vine thing they come on. And I cut up the strawberries myself. But I didn’t make the sandwiches; Mom made them.”

  I’m sure my face is on fire, and my mouth is hanging open. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’re not supposed to say anything, all you’re supposed to do is eat what I’ve got here.” He sweeps his hand over all the open containers. “Wait, here.” He reaches into his bag and takes out two sodas, a diet one for me and a normal one for him. He hands it to me with so much pride in himself.

  “You did this for me?” I ask looking around.

  “I’d do anything for you.”

  “Smooth,” Becky coughs/mumbles.

  Elijah looks over to Becky and squints, silently pleading with her to not embarrass him any more than he already is. The red tinge on his ears is a dead giveaway, but I gotta give him credit. He’s trying. “Anyway,” he says, while mockingly glaring at Becky, “this is for you and me to enjoy.” Becky leans over to defiantly grab a strawberry, but Elijah smacks her hand away and wiggles his finger at her. “For my girl first, and then maybe I’ll let you have some.”

  “Your girl, huh?” she teasingly jabs toward him, punching him on the shoulder.

  “Yes, my girl.” His shoulders straighten and he lifts his chin to look at Becky.

  She keeps peeling her orange, and looks down at it, smiling to herself. Laurie comes over, sits beside Becky and his eyes go straight to the small picnic laid between Elijah and me. “What’s going on?” He scratches his chin and looks at me, then Becky.

  “These two love birds are having a private picnic.” Becky points to me and Elijah.

  “Becky,” I warn through gritted teeth. I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a second, then open them to look at Laurie. “Elijah was nice enough to bring lunch for me as well as himself.”

  Laurie’s eyebrows lift, and his lips curve in a sarcastic smile. “Well then, maybe we should leave them on their own, Rebecca. It doesn’t look like we’re invited to their party.” He stands and offers her his hand, which Becky takes and hoists herself up.

  “Yeah, we’ll leave you two to it,” Becky announces as she grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

  I lift my hand to shield the sun and say to them, “You don’t have to leave.” Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Elijah’s head snap back to me, the look on his face is saying ‘yes, they do.’ Becky sneaks a look over her shoulder as she and Laurie are walking away, and she gives me a small nod with the smile that screams her approval.

  An awkward silence fills the air between us, so I reach over and grab a sandwich. Far out, what do I say? “It’s good,” I say after I’ve taken the first bite.

  “I’ll let Mom know you like them.”

  I nod my head, and look down at the grass. I start fidgeting, because I’m stuck on making conversation.

  “What does your mom do?”

  “Have you received your ballet results?” we both say together.

  He must feel this weird tension between us as much as I do. But, I also have to push myself out of my comfort zone and remember he’s trying, to the best of his ability. He’s gone to all this trouble to make this picnic, and to set it up at school, where he’s sure to be mocked for it. Because of this, I have to try too. I grab a strawberry and pop it in my mouth, giving us a few seconds of quiet.

  Shaking my head, I swallow down the strawberry and run my tongue over my teeth, trying to get at any of those pesky seeds stuck there. “Not yet, but like I said before, Miss Lauren doesn’t expect me to pass. It’s okay though. I can always try again next year.” My shoulders droop and I look down.

  “But . . .” he starts.

  “But what?”

  “You look like you’re disappointed.”

  “I am. In myself.”

  He picks up a grape and pops it in his mouth. “Did you do your best?”

  “I did, but what if my best isn’t anywhere near good enough?” I cross my legs and lean my elbows on my knees.

  “So you’re frightened you’ll fail even though you’ve given it all you can?” I nod my head. Elijah moves so one leg is bent at the knee and the other is out in front of him. “Then you’re worrying about the wrong thing.”

  Scrunching my nose, I sideways look over to him. “What do you mean?”

  “If you’ve tried your best, then maybe you haven’t been taught well.”

  I’m taking a drink of my soda, and the moment he says that, I spit my drink out. “Don’t let Miss Lauren hear you saying that. She’ll rip your balls off and shove them down your throat. You have no idea who she is.”

  Elijah flippantly shrugs and says, “Tell me, who is she?”

  Shaking my head, I have no idea where to start with her. “She’s Miss Lauren,” I say as if he should know who she is by mention of her name.

  “Yeah, and? I’m Mr. Turner,” he replies.

  “You don’t get it. She’s a former prima ballerina. Everyone in the ballet world knows who Miss Lauren is. Everyone. She even scares the other teachers. When she walks into the room, it turns to ice. No one says anything to her; no one makes eye contact, and she’s seriously scary.”

  “Are you frightened by her?”

  “I do what she tells me, but I also know I’m so lucky she’s my teacher. She’s always telling me how weak my ankles are and that I have to apply myself more. She pushes me past what I think I can give her. I ‘spose that’s what makes her a great teacher. She can make you dig further, push harder and give more when you think you have nothing left to give. She’s amazing,” I chuckle to myself, “but scary as fuck to most.”

  Elijah’s eyes widen in shock. “Did you just curse?”

  “What? No.” I shake my head, denying what I said. “You must be hearing things. I’ve heard old people sometimes suffer from hearing difficulties, you know. You really should get that checked out,” I say playfully.

  “You cursed, Miss Brackman, don’t deny it.”

  “What? Now I really think there’s something wrong with your head.” I twirl my finger next to my temple and pretend I’m looking past him. “Polly wanna a cracker?” I tease him.

  Elijah’s eye narrow at me as his mouth falls open. “What is going on with you?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I try to avoid him, but the gorgeous smile on his handsome face has me staring at him like some kind of stupid girl with a teenage crush. “I said nothing.” I hold my hands up in defeat. “Alright, maybe I did. Who knows, and you can’t prove anything either.”

  “Whoa,” he breathes. He stands and looks around him, then walks around behind me, looking behind me, too. “Okay, I give up. Where’s Alice? What have you done with her?” He sits back down again, smiling at me.

  “Oh, you don’t like me like this? That’s cool.” I cross my arms in front of me, paint a scowl on my face and give him resting bitch face. “Better?”

  Elijah laughs out loud then shakes his head. “Now you look like you’re constipated. Please don’t.” He screws his mouth up and pulls his head away, letting a shiver rip through him.

  I laugh so hard, I’m almost choking. “Seriously, Elijah . . . constipated? That’s what you came up with?” I manage to say through the heavy laughter.

  “God, Alice.” His chuckles die down as he keeps his eyes on me. “You’re so amazing. I love hearing you laugh, it’s sexy as hell; and the way your face changes when you’re carefree. Man . . .” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Then he says something which stuns me, it’s in a
low almost inaudible tone, but I think I make out, “I’m a goner.”

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “You just said something under your breath, and I want to know what you said.”

  Elijah cheekily looks away. “Now who’s hearing things?”

  I lean over and lightly punch him in the arm. “What did you say?” I push.

  “I said nothing. Seriously, someone recently told me how old people suffer hearing problems. I think you need to get yourself checked out.”

  I shove his shoulder, but I laugh at him. God, he’s so much fun when he’s like this. “Anyway, tell me about your family.” I change the topic of conversation, ‘cause I can see it going around and around in circles with him not confirming what I think I heard.

  “What do you wanna know?”

  “You’ve told me in the past how your dad has a body shop and you go in and help him. What does your mom do?”

  “Mom works for Dad in the shop office.”

  I wait for more, but I don’t get anything else from him. “Do you like working there?”

  “It’s alright. I go in and Dad has me doing stuff around the shop. It’s not too bad, but it’s not what I wanna do when we leave school.”

  “What do you wanna do?”

  “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

  “What? No I won’t, tell me what it is.”

  “It’s dumb ass.”

  “Just tell me. I swear I won’t laugh.” I cross my heart for extra measure.

  “I want to work in the music industry.”

  “Music industry? Really?” Suddenly the night we were at the gig for Triple Threats pops into my mind. I remember how excited he was to see them, and now it all makes sense.

  “Yeah, I’d love to get into the industry. But my parents say it’s a waste of time and to stick to something else.” Ouch, it would hurt to hear that from my parents. “Like taking over the body shop.” He screws his mouth up and looks away.

  “I’m sorry, that’s gotta suck. My parents are really supportive of me with ballet, so I don’t know what it feels like for you. But I couldn’t imagine not doing what I love.” I pause and watch as his shoulders rise and fall on a sigh. “What exactly in the music industry do you want to do?” I ask.

  “Truthfully, anything. I was thinking of being a roadie, if it means getting my foot in the door. Anything.”

  “A roadie? You’d need to leave school for that. And what happens when you get too old? Then you’ll just be an old guy, hanging out with the band, and unable to get another job.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he says, sounding hurt.

  Great, now I feel bad. But it’s the truth. I shouldn’t be made to feel bad for speaking the truth. “Hey, I know I should be saying how sorry I am for being horrible, but I’m not sorry. You’ve got to think of your future.”

  “Like you?”

  I’m taken aback by his snarky tone. “Yeah, exactly like me. I’m going to dance for the American Ballet Theatre. And I’m working my ass off to get there. That’s why it means so much to me to pass this stupid exam. I want to be selected to dance the principal role in Swan Lake at Lincoln Center. I want the audience to be there for me, to pay a lot of money for a seat to get a glimpse of me dancing. I want them to watch me, and to feel the passion I feel while I’m flying. You see, to me, dance isn’t just dance. It’s electric, and terrifying, and it awakens every fiber, every nerve, every sense inside me. I want that, Elijah, I want it so bad that when I practice my feet bleed and my body absolutely kills me. But here’s the thing—I love ballet with everything inside me.” When I stop talking I realize that I’m standing and pacing in front of Elijah. His eyes are glued to me as he watches me in complete amazement.

  “You’re something else.” He stands, and slowly walks toward me.

  Freezing on the spot, my breath catches in my throat as I watch him approach me. He’s stalking toward me, slowly . . . carefully. Blinking like mad, my chest is heaving as he approaches me. He laces his fingers in my hair, and lowers his head toward mine.

  Gasping, I close my eyes. His lips are soft, his mouth is demanding though at the same time, the way his lips touch mine is delicate. His warm mouth is inviting, softly spreading over my own. His tongue peeks out as he silently asks for permission to touch my own.

  I’ve never kissed anyone like this before. The heat between us is increasing, my own heart is thumping so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. I rake my hands through his hair, and tug down on him, wanting more of his mouth on mine.

  A deep growl vibrates from inside his chest, as one hand snakes down my lower back toward the top of my butt. He pulls me closer to him, my body smashing up against his. I can feel his obvious lust for me jabbing me in the lower stomach.

  He abruptly ends this phenomenal kiss by pulling away, and leans his forehead against mine. My eyes are still closed, and I’m breathing unevenly, trying to catch my breath. “I had to stop,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. “But trust me when I say I didn’t want to.”

  Oh God, neither did I. “Okay,” I say, too ashamed to tell him I want more, more of his mouth on mine, more of the beautiful kindness, more of him.

  “The bell will go off soon,” he says as he packs up the mini picnic we enjoyed.

  That damned kiss is playing on my mind, I sneak a look at him and see how his lips are slightly red. Is that how mine look?

  He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Stop looking at me like that.”

  Smiling, I turn my head away from him. “Why did you kiss me when you said you wouldn’t?” He stops packing and leads me over to the bleachers, sits, then guides me to sit on his lap.

  “I had to,” he replies.

  “Had to?”

  He winds his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. With his spare hand he tucks some of my loose strands behind my ear, then gently skims my cheek with his rough knuckles. It feels funny, his coarse hands touching me with the utmost care.

  “Yeah, princess, I had to.”

  I squint at him and draw my lips up in a smirk. “Princess?” I’m not a princess.

  “You’re my princess, Alice. My own Swan Lake princess.”

  “You know Swan Lake?”

  He chuckles and leans forward, gently biting on my shoulder. “I’ve learned a lot about ballet, because I want to understand you better.”

  Holy shit, he is into me. Pursing my lips together, I drag my eyes away from his and look behind him. I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless, completely and utterly speechless. “Um.” I mean, what do you say when you figure out exactly how much someone is into you?

  “Um, huh?” He nuzzles into my neck and peppers it with small kisses moving up. “I was hoping for a bit more than just ‘um,’” he teases.

  Pulling away, I hook my arm around his neck and stare into his eyes. He brings his eyebrows in together, and I take my time committing his entire face to memory. His skin is soft, though there’s stubble pushing its way through around his strong, square chin. His nose is slightly bent in the middle, most likely from being broken once. I slowly bring my hand up to touch his skin and he closes his eyes, leaning into my hand.

  “God, I love how you touch me,” he says on an exhaled breath. Smiling down at him, I keep touching his face, familiarizing myself with everything about Elijah. “Mmm,” he mumbles as my fingertips slowly make their way all over his face.

  Snuggling into his neck, I inhale deeply. He has this intoxicating aroma, a cross between the ocean breeze and the sun. Man, he smells good.

  “Did you just sniff me?”

  My mouth draws up in a smile as I chuckle and burrow further into his neck. “Maybe,” I respond still smiling.

  “There’s no maybe about it. You just sniffed me.”

  “Okay, yes I sniffed you. But to be fair, you don’t smell too bad.” He trails his hand down my side and playfully digs his fingers into me. “Stop!” I yell as he tickles me. />
  “You said I ‘don’t smell too bad.’ That’s not a very nice thing to say, princess.” He digs his fingers in again, causing me to arch over laughing.

  “Okay, okay. You smell nice.” He lets up on the tickling and I sit up straighter. “You smell really nice,” I say in a lower tone.

  Elijah shakes his head, though the whole time his eyes are glued to mine. Suddenly I feel self-conscious of the fact we’re at school, and there are people still milling around outside, even though lunch is nearing its end. I look back to Elijah, his eyes are still on mine.

  Self-doubt creeps in and I can’t help but think of all the beautiful girls who go to this school. I wonder why he’s looking at me the way he is, and why he’s sitting here with me and not one of them.

  “There are so many gorgeous girls I know who would do anything to have the chance with you, Elijah. And you’re sitting here looking at me, like . . .”

  “Like you’re the only girl who matters?” he asks. “Because you are the only girl who matters. I don’t see any of them.” He lets me go and points toward where the majority of the school would be, all while keeping eye contact with me. “They don’t matter to me, only you do.”

  A huge lump sits in my throat, and I attempt to swallow it down.

  Elijah tightens his grip around me, and kisses my cheek.

  “Hey there,” Becky bounces over to us and takes in how I’m sitting on Elijah’s lap with his arms tight around me. A small smirk lights up her face. “Well, well, well. I leave you alone for ten minutes and the next thing I know you two are all over each other.”

  Laurie’s not far behind Becky. His eyes go to Elijah, then me. He holds his fist out to Elijah and they fist bump. He gives him a small nod of approval.

  “You were gone a lot longer than ten minutes,” I jokingly snap at Becky.

  “Is this an alternate universe or what?” She pushes on my shoulder, and Elijah tightens his arms around me so I don’t fall off his lap.

  “Ha-ha,” I dryly laugh.

  “You two together now?” She pointedly jerks her chin toward us.

  “Becky,” Laurie grunts toward my best friend.

  “It’s okay,” I interject. I know she’s only asking these questions, because she loves me like a sister.