Mark My Words

by Amber Garza

  A family of four stood behind Lennie, talking loudly. A teenage girl stood a few feet away taking about a hundred selfies. And in all of them she resembled a duck. I think it was supposed to be flattering, but it wasn’t. Ignoring all of them, I focused on Lennie. I’d been curious about Rob since the first day she told me about him. But I hadn’t found my opening. Now that I had, I didn’t want to mess it up.

  “Well…” she paused, as if trying to decide where to start. “We met in college. Started dating, fell in love,” she rattled this off like she was giving me stats. I was grateful for that. The less intimate details, the better. “He proposed a month before we graduated. So after graduation I moved to Southern California with him, and we started planning our future.” Her gaze darted to her feet. “He wanted to be an architect. He was actually interning at a really prestigious firm. And he started drawing up plans for our future house.” The ghost of a smile flickered over her lips. It was fast, like a strobe light. If I hadn’t been looking closely, I would’ve missed it. “He was even going to make me a room to write in, complete with bookshelves lining the walls. I had been trying to figure out if I wanted to write novels or be a journalist.” A breeze kicked up, and her hands fluttered to her hair as it flew around her face. “One day we were spending the day at the beach, and I noticed I had a lump growing on my neck. I assumed it was some kind of infection, you know? Or just a swollen lymph node. But I went to the doctor the next day. They ran some tests, and eventually told me I had melanoma. I’d heard of it, so I knew it was skin cancer. At first I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I mean, who thinks they’re going to die from skin cancer, you know?” The laugh got caught in her throat and came out more like she was choking. She took a deep breath, and I placed a hand on her arm.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to continue.” I thought about the scar on her neck. The one she kept hidden under her scarves. That must have been where the tumor was.

  She peered up at me through her thick eyelashes. “I want to. You’ve been so patient with me. But if we’re gonna see each other, you have the right to know this story.” I didn’t know if I deserved any such thing, but since it seemed important to her, I let her finish. “I assumed they would cut the cancer off my skin, and I’d move on. In fact, my biggest worry at that point was having a scar.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine? How stupid, huh?”

  “No. Not stupid at all. Just innocent.” When I glanced up, I saw that we were nearing the island.

  “Naïve is probably a better word,” she said. “Anyway, it wasn’t just a matter of cutting it off my skin. Melanoma is a very fast-growing cancer, and mine had already spread. But I was still hopeful that I could beat it. Until we found the tumor in my brain, that is. Then it all just seemed like it was too much.” She played with her hands, twisting them. “And I was so angry with myself, you know? I mean, I’d been so stupid when I was younger. Always thinking that how I looked was more important than anything. Did you know I used to go to tanning beds when I was younger? And I never wore sunscreen when I was out in the sun because I wanted to get tan.”

  “Is that what caused it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, but those are risk factors.” Pausing, she inhaled, glancing around. “Anyway, it was after we found the tumor in my brain that Rob suggested that I move back in with my parents. He said they would be able to take better care of me than he could. When I tried to assure him that wasn’t the case, he confessed that he didn’t want to take care of me. That this wasn’t the life he wanted.”

  I never liked the guy. Not since I saw his pictures on Facebook. Now I hated him. How could he leave Lennie when she needed him most? “I’m sorry,” I said softly, because I had no idea what else to say. Honestly, no words seemed adequate in this moment.

  She shrugged. “It probably worked out for the best.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I wouldn’t want him to stay with me out of obligation.”

  Nodding, I understood. It’s like how I always felt that Ray only tolerated me. He wouldn’t have chosen me. By marrying my mom he was stuck with me, and he made sure I knew it at every opportunity.

  The boat slowed as we rode up to the dock. When it stopped, Lennie teetered for a moment. Reaching out, I steadied her with my hand. Once she’d righted herself, I expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead she nestled into me. I tightened my hold, savoring the feeling of her in my arms. As others filed off the boat, I had no desire to move. I was happy right where I was. Lennie didn’t seem in a hurry either.

  It wasn’t until almost everyone had exited the boat that we finally moved from our spot.

  After getting off the boat, we followed the crowd up the hill. Lennie seemed to be struggling a bit, so I snatched up her hand, threaded our fingers together. She threw me a grateful smile as I guided her up to the prison. Once inside, we received our portable audio unit and headphones. Lennie and I put ours on and continued forward.

  The disembodied voice began speaking, instructing me on where to start the tour. As I stepped forward, I felt something warm against my palm. When I glanced down I saw Lennie’s hand tucked in mine. I smiled, having a feeling this trip to Alcatraz was going to be much better than my previous ones.

  The remainder of the tour, I had trouble concentrating on what the tour guide in my ear was saying, because I was too focused on Lennie’s fingers threaded through mine. I was convinced that her skin was the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. Softer than silk or a fuzzy blanket or the warmth of the sun.

  I actually found myself bummed when the tour was over and we had to return our audio units. Only because it meant we had to unhook our hands. When we left the building, the ocean was displayed in front of us, a vast expanse of dark, choppy water. The sun reflected off the water, orange and yellow sparkles dusting the surface.

  “Oh, it’s so beautiful.” Lennie clutched her chest.

  “C’mon.” I grabbed her hand, grateful for the excuse. “There is a trail over here, and we can see out over the whole city.”

  Grinning, she hurried along beside me. When we reached the trail, we walked it until we found the perfect spot to stop. The sun beat down on us warming our skin, despite the chilly temperature today. Water lapped below us, slapping against the rocks. In front of us was the ocean, and behind that was the city. The bridge, the pier, the tall buildings, the homes.

  “I love it,” she said.

  “The tour or the view?”

  She sniffed the salty air, and then smiled. “Both. This has been an amazing day.”

  “Yeah, it has,” I agreed.

  Glancing back at the prison she said, “You know when we were on that tour, I couldn’t help but empathize with the stories of the prisoners who used to live here. Sometimes I feel like I am in a prison. Like my life is one. And all I want to do is break free, but I can’t.” She glanced up at me, a question in her eyes. “You know?”

  I actually did know. Not because I was sick like she was, but because I often felt that way. It was weird to hear it articulated by someone else. “Yeah, I do,” I whispered, slinging my arm over her shoulder.

  A sound of contentedness escaped through her lips, and she settled into me, snaking her arm around my waist. And there we stood, holding onto each other, both of us wrestling with our own personal demons.

  15

  As humans, our survival instinct is strong. When death stares us in the face, we fight, we claw, we struggle until our very last breath. It’s why when bodies are found after being murdered, bits of flesh and blood are embedded under their nails. It’s because they wouldn’t go down without a fight. And it’s why cancer patients endure treatments that make them sick and miserable, because they’re hoping it will help them live. Give them more time on this earth.

  It’s because they won’t go down without a fight.

  When I first saw Lennie again, it was clear that she’d stopped fighting. But lately I’d seen a spark in her eyes, a skip
in her step, that told me some of her fight had returned. And I wanted to help in any way I could.

  It was why I had taken to researching melanoma. I had become obsessed with it actually. Day and night I perused the internet, scanning pictures of moles, scars, beaches, rays of sun, marred skin, tumors. And I read endless articles on the dangers of tanning beds and laying out in the sun, the importance of sunblock and annual screenings. Lennie had admitted that she had tanned, but was it fair for her to die for her decision?

  No, it wasn’t. But life was like that, wasn’t it?

  One wrong turn, one too many pills, one extra drink.

  Life was like a walk across a frozen lake. Some people skated across with no issue, safely making it to the other side, while others fell in the icy water and had to claw their way out in order to reach solid ground. They were numb, battered, and tired, but they made it. Yet there were still others who fell in and drowned before ever reaching the other side. I knew Lennie had experienced the icy waters. She was numb and frozen, exhausted. I wasn’t sure she had it in her to keep sputtering in the icy waves. That’s why I had to help her. I would pull her from the waters, drag her to safety.

  And I was sure the answer was out there.

  Medicine had come a long way. So I combed website after website, sure that I’d find that hidden lifesaver. I stayed up late most nights, hunched over my laptop, my eyes blurry, my fingertips worn. But it was nothing compared to what Lennie endured, so I continued on.

  One night as I searched, there was a knock on my door.

  My head snapped up, my pulse quickening. Visitors weren’t common. For a moment I contemplated ignoring it. But when the knocking continued, I shoved back my chair and took deliberate steps to the front door. The volume on the knocking increased.

  “Okay, okay. Hold your horses,” I muttered under my breath, and then wondered when I started using my stepdad’s phrases. Shaking my head, I turned the knob and carefully pried the door open.

  “Hey.” Lennie stood in the doorway appearing uncertain. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and flipped up at the ends, and her face was scrubbed clean. She wore sweat pants and a wrinkled shirt, uggs on her feet.

  “Hey,” I responded, stunned that she was here. But also confused. “How did you know where I lived?”

  She cocked her head to the side, raised one brow. “You told me.”

  I didn’t remember telling her, but I must have. How else would she know? Feeling like an idiot for making her stand in the hall, I stepped out of the way to allow her entry. “Come in.” I swept my arm out. It didn’t matter how she got here. She was here. This was huge.

  “Thanks.” She hugged herself, her gaze scanning the room. “So this is what a bachelor pad looks like, huh?” Her words were nonchalant, but her demeanor was anything but.

  I swiftly shut my laptop so she wouldn’t see all the tabs that were open. I wasn’t sure how she’d take that. With my hand resting on the laptop, I leaned into it as if this was the way I stood when trying to be casual. Not sure it worked, but she’d been around me enough to know how awkward I was. If it hadn’t scared her away yet, then I was doing all right.

  “What’s going on, Lennie? Are you okay?”

  Her back was to me, her hands rubbing her upper arms in a swift, agitated motion. When she swung around there were tears in her eyes. Her shoulders shook. I didn’t waste any time before rushing to her. Without waiting for permission, I gathered her in my arms. Besides, I had no reason to think she would push me away. She came here. Clearly she wanted to be with me.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered into my chest, tears soaking the front of my shirt.

  I held her tighter, stroked her hair. It was slightly damp, so it stuck to my fingers, melded into my palm. But I didn’t wipe it off. It didn’t bother me. Sobs racked her body, and my heart pinched. A part of me wanted to know what was going on, while another part of me hoped she never told me. Clearly it wasn’t good.

  I could only think of one thing that would make her cry like this, and the mere thought of it killed me.

  After several more minutes of crying, she drew back and peered up at me. A few strands of hair adhered to her lashes, like spiderwebs weaving over her face. She blinked rapidly. Reaching down, I gently tugged them free. Then I slowly rubbed my fingertips over her tears, wiping away the traces of them. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird. Its wings rippled along my insides. I brought my hands up, tunneling them through her hair as I titled my head downward. She lifted herself up on her tip-toes, clutching me tightly around my waist. Our lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice. Like the whisper of pages in a book as they’re turned. Her lips were moist and tasted like salty tears. I licked along them, savoring the silkiness. Then I pulled my tongue back and pressed my lips delicately to hers. I didn’t want the kiss to be intense. Not like our last one. No, this one needed to be soft, slow. I wanted to feel every caress, every touch. I wanted to memorize it; tuck it away for later.

  But mostly, I wanted to erase her pain. Take away her sadness. Breathe it in. Inhale it. Bury it deep.

  After a few more tender kisses, I exerted slightly more pressure to her top lip. Strands of her hair wove around my fingers as I massaged my hands into her scalp. When my bottom lip pressed down firmly, a low moan sounded at the back of her throat. This spurred me on. I kissed with more fervor, my tongue escaping my mouth and tangling with hers. She tasted like something sweet - strawberries, sugar, candy. I couldn’t place it, but it made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the kiss that was making me dizzy.

  Her hands were moving from around my waist, her fingers teasing the bottom of my shirt. When they slipped beneath it, I inhaled sharply. Not just because they were ice cold either. Mostly because I loved the feeling of her hands on my bare flesh. I wasn’t fit, or even in shape. My chest was not rippled with muscles the way her ex-fiancé’s was in their pictures. In fact, it’s safe to say mine may have even been concave. But the way her palms and fingers explored every inch of it made me feel like it was something special. Something to be treasured. She skimmed my flesh until goosebumps rose on my skin. Until I felt as if I would burn up from the inside out.

  Our kiss became more manic, her breathing erratic. I untangled my fingers from her hair and trailed them down her neck and arms. When I got down by her waist, I imagined sliding my fingers under her shirt, the way she had done to me. My fingertips buzzed with anticipation. In my mind, I envisioned what the skin on her stomach would look like. What kind of bra she’d be wearing. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly it was hard to focus. Gathering courage, I touched the edge of her top. Then I froze.

  I couldn’t do it.

  Not tonight.

  Not when she was so sad.

  I yanked my hand back as if her shirt was on fire. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Lennie’s lips tore from mine. She dropped her hands and stared up at me wide-eyed. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling violently.

  Lifting my hand, I cupped her face. “Tell me what happened tonight? Why are you so sad?”

  She bit her lip, and it took all my willpower not to kiss her again. “Tomorrow morning I have to go in for an MRI.”

  That was it?

  The confusion I felt must have registered on my face, because she said, “The MRI is to find out if the treatment is working. If my tumor has shrunk.” Stepping back, she ran a hand through her hair. Now it practically stuck straight up. I watched as it eventually fell back into place. “I’ve been feeling better, and so I’ve started to tell myself that it’s because I am getting better. That the tumor is shrinking. But tomorrow is the moment of truth. I’ll know for sure. So if it’s not shrinking, I’ll have to face it. I won’t be able to live in blissful ignorance anymore.”

  “Yeah.” I reached for her, tugging her back to me. “But if it has shrunk, then you’ll know for sure that you’re getting better.”

  “True.” Her lips wavered. “I know it do
esn’t seem rational, but I was just overcome with fear tonight. I couldn’t shake it. I was just sitting in my room at home, feeling so anxious and overwhelmed. It was the same way I felt when I first found out about the cancer.” She shook her head. “It was so weird because I haven’t felt that way for so long.”

  “What changed now?’

  Her gaze crashed into mine. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah.” She rested a hand on the edge of my waist. “You’ve given me something to live for. You’ve given me hope.”

  My insides warmed. Drawing her close, I wrapped my arms around her.

  “Can I stay here tonight,” she murmured into my chest. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

  Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded, my chin rubbing against the crown of her head.

  “Thank you,” she responded in that soft, lyrical voice of hers. She pulled back, wiping her eyes. A yawn escaped through her heart-shaped lips.

  I wasn’t ready for her to go to bed. I wanted more time with her. “Wanna watch some TV?”

  “Sure.”

  Together we made our way to the couch. I plunked down, reaching the remote. Lennie sat on the other side, tucking her legs up under her body. I flicked on the television, and it roared to life. The commercial blared so loudly, I hurriedly turned down the volume. Why did commercials always have to be so much louder than the actual show? Not knowing what she liked, I held the remote out to her.

  “Here. You pick something.”

  She grinned, tentatively taking the remote. “Wow. Rob never let me have the remote. He was scared I’d choose some mindless sitcom, or even worse, a reality show.”

  The more she talked about this guy, the more I disliked him. “I’m good with whatever you choose.”

  Settling back against the couch cushions, she flipped through the cable menu before choosing a rerun of Friends. “Is this okay?”