How Do I Love Thee (6 page)

“There's no way out?”

“Not unless you're a seagull. But as soon as the tide comes back in, you float right out. Neat, huh?”

“Not as neat as you,” he said. He reached for her, pulled her close, and felt the warmth of her body against his. “What do you do when you come out here?” he asked, pressing his mouth into her thick, dark hair which smelled like flowers.

“I
think,”
she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I think about having a regular life. I think about what I want to do with whatever time I have left to live.”

er answer startled him. Distracted by his feelings, he'd almost forgotten how different she was, how unique her life's course. Dr. Packtor had told him that XP victims die young. “H-how long do you have to live?”

“I don't know, but I've had two melanomas taken off in die past year. Sooner or later, no matter how careful I am, a melanoma will metastasize and spread. My best friend's dying. We used to go to Camp Sundown together— that's a special camp where kids with XP get together once a year and have fun.”

“You aren't going this year?”

She shook her head. “I can't face it knowing Kimberly won't be there. She's too sick.”

“Where is she?”

“Canada. We first met when we were both twelve. We burned up the Net with e-mail, met every year at camp. But now…” Shay la shrugged. “I can't even go see her.”

His heart hurt for Shayla, for Kimberly, and for all the children who had this terrible disorder. “You've still got me,” he ventured.

She pulled away and searched his face with her clear, pale eyes. “What happens when school starts? You won't have time for me then.”

“No way. I'll work something out.”

“I know you think that's true, but your life's in the daylight. You can't go to school all day, study, run around with your friends, and see me at night. You'll have to sleep sometime.”

“I don't know how I'll do it either, but I will. Shayla, you've hidden yourself away too long. I've met some of the kids from this town, and they're pretty okay. Maybe it's time to get reacquainted with them.”

“I can't.”

“They're just kids like us.”

“Not one bit like us. You've never had them call you names.”

“That was years ago. Everybody grows up. A whole group of them meets at Bud's Pizza Palace. We shoot pool, have a good time. Come with me. You'll have fun, and they'll get to know you—the real you. They'll see how wonderful you are.”

“Why are you asking me to do this?” She moved away from his side.

“Because I want to date you. I want to take you to football games and dances. You said you could do things at night if you're careful, and I want you to be with me as much as possible.”

“Once school starts, you'll feel differently.”

“Stop trying to change my mind.” Brett was getting upset. “It's
you
, I want, Shayla. Why don't you believe me? “

“Don't you think I've wanted this all my life? To be normal… to have what other girls have?” Her eyes filled with tears, and he felt terrible. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry. “It isn't possible, Brett.”

“Not true,” he said, careful to not sound angry. “The only thing standing in your way is you. You're afraid. Believe me, I know all
about being afraid. And I'm not talking about being afraid of dying. Sometimes living's much harder than dying. When Mom dragged me up here, I was seared to death. I hated her for making us move. But I met you. And I've made a few friends. And I have a job. And you know what? I'm happy.”

“You're not a moon child,” she said solemnly, and moved to the back of the boat. She started die motor and aimed the dinghy toward the shore.

Brett was glad of the noise of the motor because they couldn't talk. He'd said too much, gone too far. He could kick himself for pushing her. The kids he knew and liked had taunted and ridiculed her when she was younger because she'd been different. She'd made new friends with others who suffered from XP and who accepted her. She wasn't ready to enter his world, and he'd been stupid to try to push her.

She docked the boat in the boathouse. They crossed the road without speaking. At his car, she said, “It'll be better if we don't see each other for a while.”

“Shayla, I'm sorry—”

“Please … I need some time.”

He watched her bolt up the road toward the great dark house that sat alone in the night.

“Well, if it isn't Burger Boy,” Sandy said when Brett walked into the pizza place three nights later. “We thought you'd died.”

“Hey,” Dooley called. “Where have you been? I thought we'd be seeing more of you, not less. Was it something I said?”

Brett shrugged off their good-natured teasing. He was lonely. He missed Shayla, but she hadn't called since the night of the boat ride, and he wasn't sure she ever would again. “I've been working,” he said, picking up a pool cue. “Who wants to lose to me first?”

“Me,” Sandy said. BJ gave her a puppy-dog look that told Brett BJ liked her as more than a friend.

Dooley said, “Actually, I'm glad you stopped by because the bunch of us are planning to drive out to Cape Cod for a clambake on the beach next Sunday. Interested in coming?”

“What's a clambake?”

“We bury clams and lobsters in the sand on
top of hot rocks and seaweed, and hours later we have some majorly good eating.”

“I don't know,” Brett said, then just as quickly changed his mind. Why not? It wasn't as if he had anything else to do. “Count me in,” he amended.

Minutes later, he was leaning over the table, aligning his cue stick, when Dooley asked, “Who's the babe in the doorway staring at you?”

Brett glanced up and saw Shayla. She looked scared. He dropped the stick, bounded across the room, and caught her in his arms. “You're here! I don't believe it.”

“I—I missed you. And I've thought a lot about the things you said.”

By now the others had crowded around them.

“Are you Shayla Brighton?” Susan asked. “Oh my gosh! We were in fourth grade together. I wanted you to come outside at recess and play with me, but you never could. I used to go home and cry because I felt so sad about you not being able to ever come out in the sunshine.” Susan's eyes filled with tears, as if to underscore her confession.

Shayla touched Susan's shoulder. “I remember you. You were nice to me, and I used to watch you and the other girls play through the window. Thank you.” Then she gave BJ a contemptuous glare. “I'm Ghost Girl.”

BJ's face turned beet red, and he said, “Sorry about that.”

“This is my girl,” Brett told the others, feeling a surge of pride.

“You dog,” Dooley said to Brett. “No wonder you've been busy nights.” Dooley grinned at Shayla. “You shoot pool?”

“No,” she said without taking her gaze off Brett. “But I know how to watch.”

Brett looped his arm tightly around Shayla's waist. He wasn't going to let go of her again.

Brett was soaring on an adrenaline rush when he coasted into the driveway at three in the morning. Things couldn't have gone better for him and Shayla that night. The kids she'd shunned for so long had been fascinated with her. And captivated too. After shooting a few games of pool, they'd headed back to Dooley's house, where they'd watched a video and eaten large bowls of popcorn. When Brett had
finally taken Shayla home, she told him, “I'm glad I came tonight.”

“Just the first of many,” he said.

She gave him a longing look he puzzled over, but she scooted out of the car and darted inside her house before he could ask her about it. Now, back at the cabin, he only recalled what it had felt like to be a couple, to have Shayla to wrap his arms around and snuggle against.

Brett slid open the patio door he always used when entering late at night, locked it behind him, and crept toward his bedroom. Suddenly the room blazed with light. His mother sat in a chair, facing the door, her eyes shooting fire. In a low, growling voice, she asked, “What's going on, Brett? Is this how you repay my trust in you?”

rett froze, then turned slowly to face his mother.
Basted.
“Mom, it's not what you think.”

“Really?” She stood and advanced toward him. “What I think is that you're a liar and a sneak. Persuade me that you're not.”

“I—um—I've been seeing someone … a girl.”

“Well, doesn't
that
comfort me,” she said sarcastically. “And what's wrong that you haven't let me meet her? How could you do this, Brett? Why?”

He knew he'd made a tactical error. He
should have told his mother about Shayla by now, but he'd been so caught up in winning Shayla, he had forgotten about most everything else. “She's not like other girls.”

His mother blanched. “You're not—she's not—”

Brett grasped his mother's meaning and felt embarrassed. “We're not doing anything wrong, Mom, if that's what you're asking. And I'm sorry if I've worried you.” He fidgeted under his mother's wittering glare. “Um—can we sit down?”

They retreated to the sofa, where Brett struggled to gather his thoughts. “Remember when I asked Dr. Packtor about XP—-where people can't go out into the sun without getting burned?”

“Yes, and you told me that there was a girl—” His mother stopped abruptly. “Is
that
the girl you're seeing? Why didn't you tell me? “

“It's taken me some time to get her to date me,” he confessed, “I sort of had to wear her down.”

His mother shook her head and rubbed her temples wearily. “You could have said something
to me before now, son. You didn't have to sneak around. I would have understood.”

“Maybe so, but it just seemed easier to keep it to myself. I didn't want anyone to know, just in case … you know … she rejected me. She was scared, Mom. Kids made fon of her when she was smaller. I—I know what it feels like to have people talking about you behind your back.” He squirmed. “You're probably thinking I just feel sorry for her, but that's not true. I like her, Mom. I really like her.”

She studied him, her expression softening. He'd never mentioned liking a girl to his mother before now, or the sting of rejection he'd felt during the time he adjusted to chemo while still trying to fit in at school. He was afraid she'd start on some lecture, but she surprised him and said, “I want to meet her. I'll fix dinner for the three of us.”