Love Always, Kate

by D. Nichole King

Damian’s eyebrows shot up faster than a rocket. “My favorite nurse told you, huh?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Bitch,” he muttered to himself. Then he grinned. “To see if I could.”

  Damian’s phone rang again. This time he jerked it out, cursed, and switched it off. “I’d better go before the asshole pages me over the intercom.”

  “Yeah. That’d be embarrassing.”

  “Thanks for eating with me tonight,” he said. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  He pivoted and walked away before I had a chance to say anything. I watched him until his sky blue scrubs were just a small speck down the corridor.

  I shoved my tray aside and laid my head on my arms, taking a deep breath. I wished that my life recorded itself like a DVR. The rewind button looked real good right now.

  If only I had chucked the hair.

  If only I hadn’t run my fingers through it in the first place.

  If only I could stop Leslie’s words from repeating in my mind.

  If only I hadn’t mentioned golf.

  The list went on and on. The rewind button would have been busy.

  I sighed and dug through my bag, finding my diary.

  November 15

  Dear Diary,

  Worst non-date ever!

  What did I get myself into? I have no idea what I’m thinking! Sure, Damian pulled me in with his amazing eyes, and well, let’s face it—he’s gorgeous! But he’s carrying around more Dixie cups than the medication cart.

  Oh, and he’s so not my type. Agh! Well, I guess I don’t have a type. All I know is that I never dreamed I’d have a crush on a guy who smokes, apparently hates his father, has been arrested, and Lord knows what else. I think I’ve lost my mind. It’s the only explanation.

  Unless…hmm. I never thought of that. Do I see him as my charity case? Someone I can fix? I don’t know. At the same time, he held the garbage can while I hurled in it, for crying out loud. What teenage guy does that? I must be crazy.

  I do like the fact that he’s not afraid to challenge me. He doesn’t treat me like I’m going to break. Or like I have cancer. I feel almost normal around him.

  He knows my hair is falling out, and he didn’t make a big deal of it. He knows who I am—the cancer patient—and still talks to me. I care about what he thinks and how he sees me. What I might mean to him. I wonder what he’s doing now. If he’s thinking about me. If he worries about me.

  This makes no sense. I’ve never been more confused in my life!

  ~*~

  Going bald in the winter was nicer than in the summer. I could usually find cute hats that went well with my outfits, and I was thankful that the administration at school made an exception for me to wear them to class. It cut down on the stares and sorry looks I got from my classmates. Generally, I took it off for treatments, since I didn’t feel awkward on the cancer ward. In fact, it might be about the only place I felt somewhat normal.

  My hair had thinned so much I was beginning to look like Gollum. I kept my black hat on at the hospital because Damian said he’d be there. Leslie didn’t say much as she hooked the IV into the tube sticking out from my chest. I tapped my fingers on my diary and watched the clock. At four-thirty it crossed my mind that maybe he forgot or something.

  At four thirty-five, I had given up on him, and at four thirty-eight, Damian twisted the knob and let himself in.

  “Nice hat. I like the little, uh, flower thing.” He pointed at my head.

  I laughed at his odd hand gestures. Seeing him standing in the doorway lifted my spirits.

  “Can you leave this room?” he asked. I peered around him and noticed the black bag he held behind his back.

  I looked at him sideways. “Yeah. But the pole has to come with us.”

  “Eh. I suppose, if it must.” Damian held out his hand to me. Reluctantly I took it, and Damian helped me to my feet before letting go.

  “Where are we going?”

  Damian held the door open. “One of the empty rooms.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds, biting the inside of my cheek. He had a quirky smile across his face, and his eyes danced as they stared at me.

  “Oh, come on.” Damian reached out and grabbed my hand again, tugging me forward. An odd-looking caravan walked down the hall: Damian pulling me and me dragging the IV pole. I wasn’t thinking about where we were going or about the bag slung over his shoulder. I just enjoyed the feel of my hand in his. Never before had a guy who wasn’t related to me or treating me held my hand. Damian didn’t hesitate as if I were contagious. He just reached out and took it, and didn’t let go.

  We rushed past the nurses’ station. I felt three pairs of eyes follow us—including Leslie’s. Damian didn’t seem to notice. We rounded the next hallway and swept into the second room on the right. Damian let go of my hand to close the door behind us, and I wanted the warmth of his touch back.

  “What are we doing?” I asked as Damian took my hand again.

  Oh, good!

  “In here.” He led me into the bathroom and locked the door. “Sit.”

  “On the toilet?” I looked down. “There isn’t a seat.”

  “That or the floor.” Damian put his bag on the counter and unzipped it.

  “Are you going to tell me why you’ve locked us up in the bathroom?”

  He grinned, facing me. “Your hair.”

  I shifted my weight. “My hair? What do you mean?”

  Dinner on Monday flashed through my mind—me staring at the strands woven through my fingers and Damian’s sympathetic eyes as he watched me. My growing feelings for him made me even more self-conscious. Now my hair was the reason we were locked in a bathroom together. Fantastic.

  “I saw how you looked at it during dinner the other night. It must be annoying having to lose it little by little like that.” His eyes were soft. He pulled out a pair of scissors and an electric razor from his bag. “I thought it may be easier if you got rid of all of it in one shot. Then no more worries.”

  I had nothing to say for a few seconds as his words sunk in. He had been thinking about me. He’d come up with a plan. Wow.

  He took a step closer. I felt his breath on my forehead. It smelled like smoke and spearmint gum. “What do you say?” he whispered.

  I peered up into his beautiful eyes. I couldn’t form words to tell him how wonderful I thought he was. How much I appreciated him thinking about me this way. I loved his idea.

  I nodded.

  Damian grinned, reached down, and slipped my black-knit hat off my head. After running his fingers through my hair a few times, he wiped a tear from my cheek.

  Tingles shot up my spine, and I shivered at the touch.

  He motioned for me to sit. I moved the IV pole behind the toilet and sat facing the tub. I felt Damian comb through the strands. He cut the hair, and I watched my auburn locks fall to the floor. Then he picked up a chunk and handed it to me.

  “Here, do you want to keep some of it?”

  I took it, purposefully touching his fingers. “Thanks.”

  I heard the clippers come to life and felt the metal against my head. My eyes closed, and I listened to the buzz as Damian shaved each individual hair from the top of my head. After a few swipes, he rubbed his hand over the bare skin. He repeated this gesture until all of my hair laid lifeless on the floor.

  I spun around and peered into the mirror. Damian was putting the clippers back into his bag. I swept my hand across the top of my head. The reflection looked normal to me.

  I glanced up at Damian. He had a glob of white lotion in his hand, and began to rub his hands together.

  He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring lotion or aftershave.”

  I laughed, thankful he chose lotion, and wondered if he’d really considered aftershave. His hands moved gracefully over my head. I cringed from the cold at first, but his warm hands caressing my head soon relaxed me, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. He rubbed the lotion in for a few minutes. His
fingers moved down behind my ears, to my shoulders, and down my arms. His lips pressed against the top of my head. I swallowed. A wave of emotions washed through me. My hands were settled in my lap and his came to rest on top of mine. I didn’t know whether to move or not. Should I flip my hands over and take hold of his?

  When I opened my eyes, he was kneeling in front of me, gazing at me. “You look beautiful.”

  My eyes searched his. If it weren’t for the butterflies flying around my stomach telling me otherwise, I would have wondered if he was being a jerk.

  He reached up and caressed the side of my face. With a gentle tug on my hand, he lowered me down. I slid off the unromantic porcelain throne and sat on my knees on the floor. Damian placed both hands on either side of my face, his eyes locking with mine. He leaned in closer.

  Were my lips dry? Were they supposed to be? What if I sucked at it? I hadn’t brushed my teeth since that morning, and…

  Before I had a chance to finish my thought, Damian’s lips were pressed against mine. I closed my eyes, ‘cause that’s what happened on TV, and let my shoulders fall. More questions ran through my mind, the old ones forgotten. Was I supposed to breathe or hold my breath? What should I do with my hands? Should my lips stay closed or open? Please, oh, please don’t throw up!

  I kept my hands on my lap for a moment, but as Damian’s mouth opened and sucked my lower lip between his, my arms wrapped around his neck on their own. He responded by moving his hands to my shoulders and sliding them down my arms. His lips moved over mine tenderly, then he folded his arms around my waist and hugged me against him.

  When the kiss ended, I stared at him. Small shivers still raced down my spine, and my whole body tingled. Damian smiled. He kissed the tip of my nose, and his fingertips trailed over the side of my neck. My insecurity dissipated at the expression on his face.

  “I saw the way he looks at you.”

  Now I could see it, too. It was the sparkle in his eyes. The way the corner of his mouth curved up in an impish grin. He leaned in and kissed my neck where his fingers had been.

  “You taste good,” he whispered in my ear.

  It could have been the chemo dancing its way through my bloodstream because I was suddenly light-headed. Then again chemo didn’t typically make me feel good.

  Damian kissed me on the neck again, and I had never felt the little pin-pricks that covered my body before. I ached to have him kiss me again. I wanted him to envelop me in his arms and draw me into his body and keep me there forever.

  “Damian isn’t as strong as you are. If he falls for you, and you don’t recover, it’ll kill him.”

  I couldn’t speak for Damian. And whether or not it was a good idea didn’t matter. I knew the moment he pulled out the clippers and looked into my eyes that I was in danger of falling for Damian Lowell.

  Chapter 5

  November 18

  Dear Diary,

  He kissed me! A real kiss. One that left me breathless.

  I can’t get Damian’s touch out of my mind. I can still feel where his fingers treaded over my skin, where his lips pressed against me. I’d give anything to have them there again. I’ve been lying in bed for the last three hours, staring at my ceiling and picturing Damian’s Caribbean blue eyes. I don’t want to get him out of my head, but I would like to fall asleep.

  It felt so good to have him want me like that. I felt…normal.

  I wish I didn’t feel like this, though. We’re different in so many ways. I hate that I love being swept up in him. I hate how much I want to be with him. I’m opening myself up to get hurt.

  He’s not good for me, I know that. But I also can’t stay away from him. Maybe if I wasn’t sick, then…

  On the flip side, he’s giving me another reason to fight this as hard as I can. Is that what I want, though? Someone else to disappoint?

  My parents are counting on me, too. I don’t want to let them down.

  ~*~

  This time I really did forget my gloves at the hospital. Technically, I had another pair that I could wear, but retrieving my favorite ones gave me a great excuse to see Damian again. I didn’t think I could wait until Monday, anyway. His face filled my dreams, and I woke up once in the middle of the night kissing my pillow…okay, twice…

  I half-ran inside and took the elevator to the third floor, a giant smile plastered across my face. Would he be happy to see me? Would he kiss me again? Probably not in front of everyone. Maybe he’d walk me back to my car and kiss me there? It didn’t matter; I just wanted to see him again. I hoped he wouldn’t be too weirded out, it not being a treatment day and all.

  The elevator ride to the third floor took forever. When the metal doors finally opened, I got out and walked to the nurses’ station.

  No one was there. I checked the chemo room, hoping to find Leslie. It was empty, too. I walked the length of the hall and found no one. All of the doors to the rooms were closed; they were usually open with the sounds of televisions and family members wafting into the hallway.

  I opened the door to the Commons. Two young boys were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and a little girl, receiving her chemo treatment, was sitting on the sofa reading a book. She wore a pink infant headband on her bald head.

  She looked up. “Hi.”

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Leslie just told me to stay in here. She said she’d be back in a little while.”

  “Oh. When was that?”

  “I don’t know, ten minutes ago? Dr. Lowell is in his office yelling at his son, though, so all the nurses are probably listening in. You know how they are.”

  My heart sank. “Thanks,” I murmured.

  I twirled around and rushed down the corridor to Dr. Lowell’s office. As I rounded the corner, I saw Leslie, Tammy, and two other nurses attempting to look busy in the same spot. Leslie noticed me first and shook her head. I glanced away and stared at the cracked-open office door.

  “What the hell do you care? You’re never around, anyway.” Damian’s voice boomed down the hall.

  “I’m doing the best I can. You’re not making this any easier. At least I’m trying,” Dr. Lowell yelled back, though not as loudly.

  “You call working sixteen hours a day trying? Bullshit, Dad.”

  “I asked you to be here with me.”

  “No. You want me here to fucking baby-sit me.”

  “What else am I supposed to do, Damian? You got yourself kicked out school, I’ve bailed you out of jail twice, you show up here drunk, and now you’re skipping your therapy sessions. I can’t trust you.”

  “I’m such a goddamn disappointment to you, aren’t I? If only Liam were here instead.”

  Thick silence filtered down the corridor.

  “I didn’t say that.” Dr. Lowell’s voice was quiet.

  Damian jerked the door open. All of the nurses twirled their heads in different directions. My eyes stayed transfixed on Damian.

  “No, Dad, you don’t have to say it. You make it perfectly clear.”

  Damian spun on his heel and slammed the office door closed. He started walking down the hall—no way he wouldn’t see me. He paused slightly, his eyes set on mine. His expression was hard and unreadable.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he pushed forward, swept past me, and swore under his breath. Leslie came up behind me as I watched him disappear down the hall.

  “What happened?” I asked, still staring at Damian’s wake.

  Leslie shook her head. “It’s not the first time. Before you, Damian showed up drunk every other day or so.”

  “That’s what this was about?” I faced her.

  She sighed. “It was about a lot of things.”

  “Thanks, Leslie,” I said and started jogging after him, I’m not sure why. It wasn’t as if I could do anything about the situation.

  The look in his eye as he’d passed me in the hallway scared me. The voice that had spoken so softly to me turned cruel and edgy as he yelled at his fat
her. I’d never dream of speaking to my parents that way.

  I checked the cafeteria first. He wasn’t there. I wandered around the first floor, poking my head into each of the waiting rooms. It was a large hospital, crowded with visitors and full of patients. Damian reeked of alcohol and probably wanted some place where he could be alone. I knew the third floor well, but the rest of the place was like a rat maze. After an hour of searching, I gave up. He obviously didn’t want to be found.

  I slipped on my hat and walked out into the cold November afternoon. It had begun to flurry, and the wind stung my cheeks. I shoved my bare hands into my coat pockets and stared down at my feet as I walked to my car.

  It was a long trek to the back of the parking lot, the only place I could find a spot. My mind wandered, thinking about the Damian I saw today, drunk and screaming. I touched my lips and remembered the warmth of his kiss. The guy who had taken so much care cutting my hair, kissing my bare head, caressing me, couldn’t be the same one I saw today.

  “Hey.”

  I jerked my head up. Damian stood leaning against my car, smoking. He looked different, not wearing scrubs. His black Columbia coat and faded blue jeans fit him much better than his hospital get-up. I swallowed as I made eye contact. Did he look sad or were his pupils that dilated?

  “I was looking for you,” I said. “In there.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near here.” He stared off in the direction of the hospital and threw his cigarette on the ground.

  “Yeah, I can tell.”

  “Wanna take me home? Doc confiscated my keys.” He had trouble pronouncing the last words.

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  I unlocked my yellow Bug’s doors. Damian opened the passenger door as I slid behind the wheel. He stumbled only slightly getting into the car, but fumbled with the seatbelt.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered.

  He gave up and I grabbed it and clicked it for him. He glared at me.

  “I don’t need a ticket,” I said quietly.

  “We wouldn’t want Miss Perfect to have that on her record, now would we?” he grumbled under his breath.