I fought the urge to rub my pounding temples. I stood and padded into the kitchen for a drink of water and some aspirin. The whole thing had quickly spun out of control. Seth followed with the textbook still in his hand.
“Please stop with that book. You’re making everyone crazy.” My knotted stomach only allowed a few swallows of water. I set the cup in the sink.
“Sorry. It sounds like this is bigger than you’re letting on, is all,” he said quietly. “Is there a chance it could be cancer?”
“My prognosis is good, Seth. I’m worried about losing my memories, especially of Lilah. You and I have thousands of memories. If I lose a few of those it’s no biggie,” I explained, careful to avoid the topic of cancer. “But my time with Lilah’s been brief. What if I lose everything we’ve had together?”
Seth set the book down on the counter. “I suggest we think positive. No sense driving ourselves nuts, right? Like you said, the prognosis is good.” I looked at Seth and his forced smile. “It’ll be okay. I’ll talk Booker off the ledge. Truthfully, I’m worried about him almost as much as I am about you right now. He looks bad, almost as bad as he did when Mags stayed with him.”
“Agreed. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” I said, heading for the door. “I have to go. I’m meeting up with Lilah to make a few videos with her. I’ll come by tomorrow, if that works for you.” I wanted to get out before Book came in the kitchen and lectured me about spending my last days with Lilah.
“I’ll make it work. Please stay with us. I’d feel better knowing you’re here, around people rather than alone at your house,” Seth said, walking me to the door. “Just in case.” He patted my shoulder.
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
I jogged to my car, wanting to spend every second I could with Lilah. I drove straight to the park, spotting her as she opened her car trunk and removed a large paper bag, along with a blue blanket.
I pulled up next to her. “Hello, beautiful,” I said out my window.
She leaned in and kissed me. “Hello, sexy. Hungry?”
“Depends. Are we talking about food or about more of those kisses of yours?” I grinned, proud of my much improved flirting skills.
“Both. . . At least, I hope both.” She opened my door for me and I took her bag as we walked over to a grove of trees in the park.
“Should we sit under the oak tree?” I asked.
“Lets. I love oak trees. Have you ever seen the Angel Oak in South Carolina?” she asked, spreading the blanket out and settling onto it. She kept a smile on her face, no doubt trying to be positive for me, only the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Fear did, maybe even a little sorrow.
“I’ve seen pictures of the tree. The thing’s huge.” I handed her the bag. She pulled out several paper boxes like those you’d get at a Chinese restaurant and set them out. “What is all this?” I pointed to the containers.
“I’ve been thinking about the fact that you may forget me—”
“Not you, Lilah, things, small snippets of time.” I hoped to reassure her everything would be fine. No sense in both of us worrying.
“Cole, in the grand scheme of things, you and I have only been together for a small snippet of time,” she pointed out soberly. “I’m hoping that maybe, if we create strong memories, memories that are unforgettable, then you’ll still remember me.”
Her words carried new waves of anguish through me. “What’s the strong memory you have in mind this afternoon?”
“I thought we could try different, unique foods. This is calamari…which I hate, just for the record, and this is escargot, another yuck on my list. And this is poi,” she said, pointing to a third container, “which I’ve never had, but have always wanted to try.”
“What about the other four?” I pointed with my chin.
“We can’t know what those are. It will help us be more objective.” She smiled sinisterly.
“You’re going to try the mystery foods, too?” I questioned, not too eager about the whole thing. Truthfully, meat and potatoes were my preference. Okay, Opie, time to step out of your comfort zone.
“Of course. I’m not going to let you have all the fun,” she teased. I couldn’t help myself; I leaned in and kissed her soundly.
Breathless, she pulled back and said, “If you’re going to kiss me like that, I’m buying calamari more often.” She handed me an eye mask.
“What’s this for?” I took the silky black thing in my hand.
“You can’t see what you’re eating. It will enhance the mystery,” she said.
“Lilah, I know we’re making memories, but I’m recording them on my phone.” I waved my phone in the air between us. “If I can’t see, then I can’t record.”
She took the phone from me. “I’ll record you, and then you can record me,” she said, as if it were obvious.
To my surprise, I liked everything, even the calamari. When I finished, she handed me a notepad and pen and had me list what I thought the foods were. “Don’t show me,” she said.
While she secured the mask, I got my phone ready. “Wait, you already know what this stuff is. You’ll get them all right.”
“I know about the calamari and snails. The poi I’ve never had, though you’re right, I do know one of these is poi. As for the rest, I told the guy at the deli what I was doing and had him put random things in the containers. He wrote what each is on the bottom.” She beamed proudly at her ingenuity.
“You’re very clever.” I leaned in and kissed her, startling her. She recovered quickly, driving her hands into my hair and kissing me back with zeal.
“I didn’t expect you to kiss me. I’m not complaining, mind you.” She adjusted the mask I’d messed up. “Okay, let’s start.”
To my surprise, Lilah didn’t like most of the foods. She took one bite of the calamari and pulled a sour face. I handed her a napkin to spit it into. She tolerated the snail and hated the poi. “Wallpaper paste,” she complained as she forced it down her throat. Not surprisingly, her expressions were animated. A pinched brow, wrinkled nose, pursed lips. I found myself laughing so hard I had a difficult time recording her.
She tugged off the mask after trying the last food sample, and quickly wrote down her guesses, not counting the three we already knew about.
“Duck liver, yuck,” she grimaced, reading the tag on the bottom of a container. “Steamed dumplings. Not too bad,” she said, setting another back down.
“I liked the dumplings.” I picked it up and finished the carton off as she continued.
“This one’s black mushroom bean curd. I didn’t like it.” She scrunched her face as I nodded in agreement.
“I think Booker made bean curd once, only his tasted ten times better.” I picked up the last container. “I loved this one.” I scooped another piece of the chocolate into my mouth as did Lilah. “What did you guess it was?” I asked.
Lilah glanced at the notebook. “Chocolate covered walnuts. And you said chocolate covered almonds. Do you want to bet who’s right before we look?”
“Sure. If I’m right I get a five minute kiss,” I said, a mischievous grin on my lips.
“Fine. If I’m right I want a seven minute kiss,” Lilah bargained.
“So even if I lose, I win. Works for me.” I turned the camera on just in time to catch Lilah tossing the container in the air, and turning to spit in the grass.
“Yuck!” She grabbed a napkin and scraped off her tongue.
“What is it?” I reached for the box.
“Chocolate covered crickets,” she groaned. “I ate bugs!”
“Really? I wouldn’t think Dave’s Deli had random food like that.” I squinted at the discarded bugs in the grass.
“These aren’t from Dave’s; they’re from Liew Hui’s Chinese Deli, on Main next to the library.” She lay back in the grass and laughed.
I picked up a scattered chocolate bug, eyeing it carefully. “You have to admit, they’re pretty good.” I had it halfway to my m
outh when Lilah grabbed my arm.
“Just so you know, if you eat that, I will never kiss you again.” She shivered dramatically.
“Want to bet?” I bounced my eyebrows. Yeah, I was getting the hang of this whole flirting thing if I did say so.
“Wait, if you lost the bet, and I lost the bet,” she said, ripping the bug from my hand and tossing it away, “that means we owe each other about twelve minutes of kissing.” As she spoke she pressed me back in the grass and settled on my chest.
“Hold on. Let me get my phone. I definitely want to tape this.” My hand searched around on the blanket as Lilah kissed my neck.
“You won’t need to record it, Cole, because I guarantee you won’t forget it.”
Man alive, she got that right. If they removed my entire brain, I’d never forget the kiss in the park, under the oak tree, on a warm summer’s day, with the girl I loved.
Lilah insisted I record us riding the motorcycle. She wanted to be sure I’d remembered my new adventurous side. She sat behind me and wrapped her arms around my body, holding the phone out in front of us as we drove up and down the streets of Port Fare.
We went salsa dancing at a local club that evening. A sweet older couple recorded us dancing to Livin' La Vida Loca. After the song, I wrapped my arm around her waist as she threw her head back and laughed.
“I love Ricky Martin,” she shouted above the next song as we made our way back to the table.
“He’s gay, you know.”
“Yes. All the good looking ones are.” She sighed longingly.
“Now wait a minute. I got the Moves like Jagger.” I jetted my head back and forth in Jaggeresque style.
“You’re much better than Jagger. You have the whole Shake Your Bon Bon thing going on,” she teased, quoting another of Ricky’s songs.
We sat at our table and watched the video of us dancing. “You got it going on, Opie.” She tugged playfully on my shirt. “While we were dancing I thought of another memory we could make.” She smiled at me seductively.
“Do I want to hear this in public?”
“We could take our clothes off and go dancing in the rain. You know, like the lyrics of the song we just danced to,” she suggested. “You’d remember that.”
“Lilah,” I said, shaking my head. Thankfully there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky, which made the idea impossible.
“What happened to the new, spontaneous Cole?” she teased, walking her fingers up my arm.
“Spontaneous, not insane. There’s a difference.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it.
Not sure if it was the loud music, the hot stuffy air of the overcrowded club, or if my tumor was to blame, but my head sat on the verge of exploding after a few more dances, so we left. We went to Seth’s and enjoyed the clear night sky from the comfort of his front porch swing. Lilah fell asleep on my shoulder, and I slipped my arm around her, holding her close as a tear escaped my eyes. For about the hundredth time since I’d learned about the tumor, I again prayed: Please don’t let me forget her. Please.
Chapter 31
Lilah
Cole met me at his house early the next morning. He wanted to get some video of me painting the living room before going fishing with Seth and Booker. Maggie decided to spend the day with me, mostly because she hated fishing. She denied it, but I think the real reason she stayed was Cole. I had a sneaking suspicion he’d asked her so I wouldn’t be alone. I did my best to hide my angst, but Cole saw through it.
“How’s the head?” I asked Cole, hopping up on the counter in the kitchen so we were almost eye to eye.
“Not bad,” he said, planting his hands on the counter, encircling me as he kissed my neck. “And this helps me forget about it.”
“Good,” I said before bringing his mouth to mine. I held him there, reveling in the moment. I wanted to enjoy every last second of Cole that I could in case he wanted nothing to do with me after the surgery. I struggled to block all the dark thoughts, but truthfully they consumed me.
Seth strolled into the kitchen, ruining the wonderful memory I worked hard to create.
“Sorry,” Seth said, stepping back out and disappearing. I jumped down from the counter and ran my hands through Cole’s hair to smooth out the mess I’d made of it. We walked into the living room as Seth and Maggie finished spreading tarps to protect the carpet while we painted. Maggie then ran back outside to grab some supplies from her car.
“So you’re really going to try fishing again? Booker and Seth aren’t worried you’ll embed them with hooks?” I gently teased Cole. “Although I wouldn’t be upset if you snagged Booker . . . several hundred times.”
“Booker had some work to do so he won’t meet up with us for a few hours, but I’ll do what I can,” Cole replied. “I enjoyed the one time I went fishing, despite all the mishaps.” He scrunched his face, probably at an unpleasant memory. “Anyway, you forget I’m the new Cole. Adventurous. A daredevil. I laugh in the face of danger.”
“Okay, my hero. Be careful.” I kissed his cheek, and watched with a touch of sadness as he left with Seth.
I showed Maggie how to give walls a Tuscan look, and she caught on quickly. “This is nice,” she said, spreading the brownish-red glaze over the warm tan living room walls. “It really does look Tuscan.” She stepped back to examine it again. “This beats fishing any day.”
Booker showed up after we’d finished the main wall. He came in, grunted at me, and ran his hand through Maggie’s hair, messing it up.
“Bad kitty,” she said, slapping at his hands. “I thought you were going fishing with Seth and Cole,” Maggie called after him as he started upstairs.
“I am. I have to get a couple measurements and then I’m off. But don’t worry, I have someone watching over everything.”
“I’m not worried,” she snapped back.
Yesterday, out of the clear blue, Booker decided now would be the perfect time to finish the upstairs even though Cole and he had talked about it for over two years. More like an excuse to keep an eye on me. Whatever.
My cell phone rang, startling me. If it wasn’t Cole, that meant it was most likely Daddy.
Restricted. “It’s my dad,” I said to Maggie as she set her paint brush aside. Booker raced down the few steps he’d climbed, his cell phone pressed to his ear, whispering to whoever was on the other end. “Hello.” I waited a moment for the familiar voice.
“I want that number,” Daddy demanded.
“Okay. Do you . . .” I glanced at Maggie with her now waxy white face and walked outside. She didn’t need to hear this.
“Lilah?” my father snapped, wheezing.
“Did you write it down?” I asked, acting as if I’d given it to him already, in hopes of explaining the long silence.
“No. We must have been cut off. Say it again.”
Hoping to drag out the call, I quickly rattled off the phone number to the hospital, throwing in half my social security number.
“Princess! How am I supposed to write that fast?” He coughed again. “Slow it down.” I began repeating the number, only this time, I moved the phone close to my mouth, then far away, even scratching my finger nails over the phone, hoping it sounded like static. He interrupted me halfway through.
“I can’t hear you. I’ll call back later.”
“No, wait. I’m standing by some power lines. Let me cross the street and see if that’s better.” He grumbled something but didn’t hang up. I sat down on the wood porch steps and waited. It’d been almost three minutes now. Surely they could get something this time.
“Okay, are you ready?” I asked, but the line was dead.
Booker came flying out the door, almost crashing into me, pressing his cell phone to his ear.
“Did you get it?” he asked into the phone. He gritted his teeth and spun around, smacking the door with his hand before hanging up.
“I kept him on for three minutes this time,” I pointed out before he could yell at me.
He nodded.
“I know. You did good.” My eyes widened at his almost compliment. “He’s in Mexico, that’s as close as we got.”
“Mexico? Just like I said.” I watched him for a reaction, but he gave nothing away.
“Why did you step outside? You know we’re monitoring your calls, it doesn’t matter where you are.” He seemed genuine in his question instead of his usually sarcastic edge.
“I did it for Maggie. She looked like she was going to faint when she heard it was my dad, so I stepped out.”
He eyed me again, this time offering a curt nod. “What were the numbers you gave him?”
“The phone number to the hospital and part of my social security number.”
“And you don’t think he’ll figure that out? Or was that your plan all along?”
I ignored him and his paranoia and went back inside as he got in his ugly car and left.
Our Tuscan finish took less time than I thought. Maggie helped me clean up the mess and left. I had a good hour to kill before Cole would be home. Exhausted, I curled up on the floor, wedging the paint tarp under my head for a makeshift pillow. I fell asleep with painting techniques on my mind, glad that for once it wasn’t Daddy or Alan.
“Stop it, Alan, or I’m telling dad.” I grabbed what remained of my dress and held it against me. No, not again. I tried ending the dream, screaming to myself it was not really happening, but it continued, despite my efforts.
“Delilah, wake up,” a voice called to me. Not a good voice. It didn’t offer comfort or safety. I continued fighting against Alan.
“Please don’t!”
Someone nudged me. “Delilah, wake up.” Alan’s touch turned painful, as always. I didn’t like the voice urging me to wake, but I hated what Alan was doing to me more. I went to the voice, prying my eyes back.
Two cold brown eyes glared at me. I recoiled against the wall behind me, screaming out in fear. The figure stepped back.
“Delilah, it’s me.” Booker glared with what I guessed to be a touch of guilt on his face. Good. I gained my composure and stood.
“What are you doing here? I thought you left to go fishing.” I stood, smoothing my hair into place.