Mark My Words

by Amber Garza

  “What? Why are you staring at me?”

  “You knew his name….and he knew yours.”

  “Why does that surprise you? Because he’s homeless?”

  What she implied was convicting. I probably passed that guy every day and didn’t notice him. Lennie had taken the time to not only talk to him, but introduce herself. I shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Now that I think about it, it’s not that surprising. It was a very ‘Lennie’ thing to do.”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “A ‘Lennie’ thing to do? Meaning what?”

  “I just remembered you being a compassionate person, that’s all.”

  “From high school?” Her tone was dubious.

  “Yeah,” I responded.

  A group of men came toward us, taking up the sidewalk. My hand brushed Lennie’s arm as we moved out of the way.

  “Glad to know I came across that way,” she said.

  “Did you think you hadn’t?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I know that I was really different then. I was obsessed with boys and clothes and popularity. Stupid stuff.” She snorted. “I often wonder if I would’ve done everything differently…you know….if I had known.”

  “Known what?”

  She shot me an irritated look. “Known that I was going to die.”

  I couldn’t help the light chuckle that escaped from my throat. “Did you think you were immortal?”

  “Of course not.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  I did know what she meant, but I wanted her to stop thinking that way. “I used to work at a record store before I started writing my book,” I said. Her face scrunched up with confusion, and it almost made me laugh out loud. She was probably wondering what this piece of randomness had to do with anything. I continued so she’d see the connection. “For awhile I worked with this guy named Ben. He was in his early forties, married, had two kids. Most days he rode his bike to work. But one day his wife dropped him off. They had dinner plans with friends, so she was picking him up after work. I remember that day so vividly. Nothing happened out of the ordinary at all. Ben was the same as always – laughing, joking, talking. Apparently, he and his wife had a great time at dinner. Afterward, they went home, poured some wine and sat on the couch watching TV.” Lennie’s stare was so intense, I could practically feel it. She didn’t breathe, and her clipped strides had slowed. It was obvious that she knew where this was going. “Then he suddenly slumped over and died. Massive heart attack. Came out of nowhere.”

  Lennie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “God, that’s terrible.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I agreed, remembering how heartbroken his wife and kids were at the memorial service. Even though I’d hardly known him, he’d left an impression. Work never felt the same after he passed. “And, do you remember John Sims from high school?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “And I know about his accident.” Shaking her head, her eyes pressed closed for a minute. “I was friends with his wife, actually. In fact, I was at the wedding. It was awful that he died only a few months after they got married.”

  “I didn’t know them that well, but I remember being shocked when I heard.”

  “If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a terrible job,” she said, shoving her fingers down into her pockets.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I’m just pointing out that none of us knows when our time is up. Ben was just living his life. He had a fun night at dinner and then was cuddling on the couch with his wife, completely unaware that it was his last night. Honestly, it gives me comfort to know that he was happy at the end.” We rounded another corner, and the street inclined upward. “The truth is, that you may be the one who’s sick, but I could die before you. I could get hit by a car when I leave you tonight.” Light from the streetlamps cast an eerie glow on her pale skin. She wasn’t looking at me, but I could tell she was contemplating my words. I could see it in the tight set of her jaw. “Being sick doesn’t guarantee your death. Being alive does.”

  Lennie’s head snapped toward me, fire in her eyes. She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath. I stopped too, waiting for whatever it was she was gearing up to say. But then her gaze flickered to a house on her right, and she simply said, “This is where I live.”

  It was a nice home, and I wondered if she lived with a roommate. From what I understood, she didn’t have a job. As if in answer to my silent question, she said, “It’s my parents’. It’s actually the same house I grew up in.”

  Something dawned on me. “The appointments you’ve been going to. They weren’t job interviews, were they?”

  She shook her head. “Doctor’s appointments. The hospital is--”

  “Right across the street from the coffee shop,” I finished for her, wondering why I hadn’t figured it out sooner. “Well, if you ever need someone to come with you to an appointment, let me know.”

  She smiled. “You’ve already done enough.”

  “At least let me take you out for dinner sometime,” I pressed.

  Pausing, she scratched the back of her neck. Sighing, she reached out her hand. “Hand me your phone.”

  After turning it on, I dropped it into her palm. Her fingers flew over the screen for a second, and then she handed it back. “Now you have my number.”

  Closing my fingers around the phone, my heart leapt in my chest.

  8

  The couple in the upstairs apartment were fighting again. It was a symphony of raised voices, accusations being tossed back and forth like a game of catch. I sat on the couch flipping through the channels attempting to find a show that would capture my attention. But it was a losing battle. Between the fighting upstairs and my thoughts about Lennie, I couldn’t focus. Finally, I gave up, shutting off the TV and tossing the remote on the couch near my leg. Stretching out my legs, I rested my head on the cushions and let my mind wander to my conversations with Lennie today.

  The sadness in her eyes and the hopelessness of her words plagued me. I couldn’t shake it. No one should be that unhappy. It’s not that I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. But I didn’t want her to throw her life away while she still had it. I wanted to see her smile. To see her laugh. To see her enjoy every moment.

  As I replayed our exchange on the way home, a thought struck me. Heart pumping, I shot up. The couple upstairs was still going at it, but I ignored them. From what I overheard, it never escalated past yelling. If he hit her, I’d have to get involved, but so far that hadn’t happened, and I was grateful.

  Fumbling around with my hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. After a quick google search, I found exactly what I was looking for. One phone call later, and my plan was set in motion. I was reminded of all the times Mom told me I had no idea what it was like when she was younger. That technology had made life too easy now with everything right at our fingertips.

  Searching my contacts, I found Lennie’s name. Running my fingertips over the screen, a smile formed on my face. I was about to press on her name, when I stopped. In college my roommate always said that you had to wait at least three days after you got a girl’s number before you could call her. If not, he explained, you would seem desperate. Then again, he had tons of rules when it came to dating. I had a hard time following them. I was the kind of guy who jumped in head first when it came to girls. If I liked someone, I didn’t want to play games. I just wanted to date her.

  But perhaps my roommate was right. He did have a lot more girlfriends than I did in college, that’s for sure.

  And I had already come on pretty strong where Lennie was concerned. Lowering the phone, I dropped it onto my stomach. The arguing upstairs had finished, and silence blanketed me save the wind rustling outside my window. Rolling my head to the side, I stared out at the inky black sky, the trees swaying in the breeze. When I was a kid, I would open my windows on nights like this. Then I’d breathe in the cold night air, the scent of the city fil
ling my senses. I understood what Lennie meant about feeling comfortable in the city, because I felt the same way. After high school graduation, I had friends who traveled to other countries. Went backpacking through Europe, or built houses in Mexico, or did mission work in Africa. I’ll never forget how excited they were preparing for their adventures. And I wanted to be excited for them. Only I couldn’t. Deep down I was horrified. The thought of traveling to a foreign country caused panic to rise up inside of me like the swell of an ocean wave. I liked the safety and security of being somewhere familiar.

  There was nowhere in the city that I wasn’t familiar with. The unknown was something that didn’t appeal to me. Honestly, I thought Lennie was brave for even attempting to live somewhere else. And the fact that she ended up coming back endeared me to her further. It seemed that maybe we were more alike than I originally thought.

  Pausing, I sucked in a breath.

  In my mind I saw it all. Lennie going about her comfortable life, knowing where she was headed, and what was in store. And then she was told she was sick. She was hit with a bomb that blew apart all that was familiar. All that was comfortable.

  I felt a little guilty for being harsh with her earlier. The words were meant to help her, but I realized now that they could have been misconstrued. I had no idea what it would be like to be told that you were dying. It was one thing to know it could happen at any minute, and quite another to be told it definitely will happen soon. It was insensitive of me to think I could relate at all to what she was going through.

  I still planned to be there for her. To make her happy any way I could. And I still wanted to help her live her life to the fullest. But I vowed to be more sensitive, more sympathetic.

  Plucking my phone up, I unlocked it. Who cared about my roommate’s stupid rule? When I’d left Lennie it had only been hours since she passed out. She was sick. She was depressed. She was dying.

  I thought it was safe to throw protocol out the window at this point. Without a second thought, I called her.

  “That didn’t take long,” she joked when she answered. At the easy banter, my mind filled with visions of teenage Lennie.

  “I just wanted to check on you,” I hurried to answer. “See how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m fine now,” she said. “No more passing out or anything.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “Actually, I’m glad you called. I forgot to say thank you earlier.” She paused. “For hanging out with me and walking me home.”

  “It was no problem.” It wasn’t like I made some huge sacrifice. Truth was that it was one of the best days I’d had in a long time.

  “I’m sorry if you didn’t get much work done because of me.”

  “No, it was fine.”

  “So is this the first book you’ve written?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “How does it work exactly? Like, do you have an agent or publisher or something?”

  My stomach knotted. “Um…no. I actually don’t even know what my plan is. I might query agents and publishers when it’s done, or I might publish it myself.”

  “That’s exciting.” I could practically hear the smile in her voice. “You’re like involved in your very own ‘choose your ending’ story. The possibilities are endless.”

  Quiet filled the line. Creaking sounded from upstairs, like a bed being jumped on. Now that the couple was done fighting they were making up. Honestly, I preferred the yelling. Wincing, I lowered my head, hoping the pillows would drown out the noise.

  “Have you ever thought of writing something yourself? It might be therapeutic,” I reasoned.

  “When I was younger I wanted to write, but my dreams changed over time,” she explained.

  “What is your dream now?” I asked, curious.

  “To live.”

  Her words punched me in the gut with such force I feared I might hurl. Something about the vulnerability in that statement brought the reality of the situation into extreme focus. Before everything had seemed blurry, like an old, grainy photo. I was straddling the lines between real life and fantasy.

  But this wasn’t a daydream.

  I was no longer a teenage boy scrawling Lennie’s name in my notebook.

  I was a grown man. And Lennie was an adult. An adult who was dealing with the most awful thing a person had to go through.

  Could I handle this? If not, I needed to end it right now. It was one thing to chase this idea of a girl I crushed on in high school. To fulfill a desire in my own life. Lennie needed more than that. She needed someone who could care for her. Someone who could help her.

  Was I that guy?

  Did I want to be?

  “Colin?” Her voice was shy, unsure, child-like.

  My heart stuttered.

  “Are you still there?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, I am.”

  A sigh caressed my ear, and my insides flipped. I didn’t ever want to leave her hanging, to let her down. I wanted to be the reason she felt safe and secure.

  I wasn’t sure I was capable of being the guy she deserved, but I sure as hell was going to try.

  9

  I wanted to surprise her, but she wasn’t making it easy.

  “Where are you planning to take me?” She asked incessantly in the days leading up to our first official date. I could tell it bothered her when I refused to tell her. A couple of times I almost caved. I hated the thought of making her unhappy.

  However, when I saw the look of shock on her face when we showed up at the dance studio, it was all worth it. Her expression of pure awe and unadulterated happiness was exactly what I’d been anxiously awaiting.

  “What are we doing here?” There was cautious optimism in her voice, as if she figured she knew why I brought her here, but part of her worried that she was wrong.

  “I signed us up for a class.”

  “You did?” The cautiousness was gone. Her smile broadened, sweeping her face. Color rose on her cheeks.

  I nodded, my heart swelling.

  As we stepped inside, her gaze flew all around the room as if she didn’t know where to look first. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” she breathed.

  I shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know how to dance either, so it’s a win-win.”

  As we approached the dance instructor, Lennie’s fingertips brushed mine. A shudder rippled through me. Then she shocked me by folding her fingers around my palm. I swallowed hard, my entire body heating up. Her skin was soft and silky against my rough flesh. I savored the way she clutched me tightly, the way our fingers wound together. As the instructor introduced herself, I didn’t hear a word. All of my attention was focused on the feeling of Lennie’s skin against mine. I couldn’t get over the fact that she was touching me. But mostly that she had initiated it.

  If I thought that holding her hand was pure bliss, dancing with her was even better. The class I signed us up for was ballroom dancing. Therefore, I got to hold Lennie in my arms the entire time. Honestly, we weren’t the best dancers in the class. Both of us were awkward and jerky in our movements. Then again, I doubted I could do anything well when my hands were on Lennie’s body. It was a power of wills to simply pay attention in the class when all I wanted to do was memorize every inch of her. To savor the feel of my hand riding up her back, or my palm pressed to hers. Adding in dance steps was quite the challenge.

  “It’s a good thing I’ll never get married,” Lennie said breathlessly between giggles. “I would make a fool of myself at my reception.”

  I hated how she darkened every light moment. “Don’t say that,” I commanded. “You don’t know that it’s true.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. Look at me. I’m a mess on the dance floor.” Her words were teasing, but what she was insinuating wasn’t.

  One side of my lip curled upward. “I’ll admit you’re not the best. Neither of us are, but that’s not what I meant.” I caught her eye. “You don’t know that you’ll never get married.”r />
  She stiffened in my arms, her legs stilling. As she stared into my eyes, her breath became labored, her chest heaving. “Yes, I do, Colin,” she whispered, as if the words physically hurt when they tore from her throat. “And you need to understand that too. I know you’re trying to help, but giving me false hope won’t help me.”

  “I’m not trying to do that.” Lifting my hand, I gently touched her chin. “I’m simply trying to make you happy.”

  Her eyelids fluttered as she melted into my touch. She didn’t say anything, but I read the words in the silence. I knew that in this moment she was happy, and it was enough for me. My thumb rested on her skin. Moving it slightly, it rubbed against her flesh. Up and down, generating heat. Stepping forward, my waist slid against hers. I waited for her reaction. Waited to see if she’d pull away.

  She didn’t.

  Curling my hand around her face, I fastened the other arm securely around her middle. Angling her face upward, she breathed out, hot air fanning over my neck. I lowered my head. Her eyes crashed into mine, and I could see the desire in her irises. My heart pounded louder and louder the closer my lips came to hers. When they almost touched, a yelp sounded at the back of her throat.

  Without warning, she leapt backward. I blinked, my brows furrowing. She frowned, and her lips began to quiver.

  “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, moisture filling her eyes. “I can’t do this.” Whirling around, she hurried out the front door.

  Throwing an apologetic look to the instructor, I followed her. I wove through the other couples on the dance floor, feeling a little embarrassed. Not that they noticed me at all. They were too focused on their dance partners or on their own feet as they tried to keep up with the steps. When I got outside, Lennie was learning against the brick wall, hugging herself. Tears streaked her face. I felt like an idiot. Had I misread the entire thing? Was I imagining the signals?