Mark My Words (8 page)

The coffee shop was busier than usual for a Tuesday. Not only that, but there was a group of women who kept cackling in the corner. I mean, I was okay with talking, even the occasional laugh. But the sheer volume of these women made me wonder if they thought they were at a bar with loud music playing in the background. Normally I could write even in the noisiest of situations, but today I was having trouble. Every guffaw, every screech reverberated through my body until I felt it at the back of my mouth like sour candy.

Fishing inside of my bag, I searched for a pair of earbuds. When I didn’t initially find them, I worried that I had left them at home. I didn’t often use them when I left my apartment. Mostly because I liked to be aware of my surroundings when out in public. But right now the earbuds were essential. Dipping my hand in further, I made one last ditch effort to find them. Relief flooded me the minute my fingertips lighted on a cord. Looping my finger around it, I yanked it out. After plugging one end into my laptop, I pulled up my iTunes page and chose a playlist. Then I shoved the earbuds into my ears and allowed the music to dull my senses.

I had been writing for several minutes when a shadow cast over me. At first I ignored it, thinking it was a patron waiting for a coffee. But when the shadow didn’t move, I looked up. At the sight of her, a smile stretched across my face.

Her lips moved, but I couldn’t make out the words. I held up my finger signaling for her to give me a minute. Then I pulled out my earbuds and discarded them on the table. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” She shook her head. “Sorry I interrupted. It looks like the words were really flowing.”

Spoken like a writer
. “That’s okay. Seeing you is better.”

Her cheeks flushed. Dropping the romance novel I bought her on the table, she said, “This was from you, right?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Are there other guys that you suspect would leave a romance novel on your doorstep?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Only you.” Sweeping her hand down to the chair across from me, she raised her brows. “May I?”

“Of course. You’re always welcome at my table.”

She grinned and sat. “You know you didn’t have to leave the book. You could’ve knocked.”

“You were in bed when I came by,” I lied.

“How do you know?” There was a teasing gleam in her eye.

I shrugged. “I guessed. The house was dark. It was late.”

“Oh.” She pointed to the book. “It’s really good.”

“You already read it?” I knew she was an avid reader, but this had to be some kind of record.

“Not all of it. But I read the first chapter.” Reaching out, she traced the letters on the glossy cover with her fingertips. “Have you read it?”

“No. I actually never even heard of it,” I said. “I was at the bookstore last night and a woman in the romance aisle recommended it. Said it had a happy ending.”

Her smile deepened. “Then I know I’ll love it.” The clouds moved outside allowing the sun to peek through and it shone in the window. Haloing Lennie’s head, it gave the illusion that she was an angel. Today the scarf she wore was silky, an array of pastel colors. It reminded me of spring.

The barista called out a name, causing me to flinch. It also reminded me that I needed a refill, and Lennie didn’t have a drink. I scooted my chair back, almost hitting the chair of the person sitting at the table behind me.  Not that the guy would have noticed. He was typing furiously, listening to headphones so loudly I could hear the song. “I’ll go grab you a coffee.”

“No,” Lennie said vehemently. “You’ve already bought me enough coffees. I can get my own this time.” She stood, glancing down at my empty mug. “In fact, I’ll get you one too.”

I almost argued, but thought better of it. Clearly this was important to her. And really, it made me feel good that she wanted to do something for me. So far it felt like I was always the one initiating things. But this morning it had all been her. She showed up here. She asked to sit with me. She was buying the coffee.

Swiveling in my seat, I slung my arm over the side and watched her. She talked easily with the barista as she placed our order, even seemed to be joking with him. My heart swelled in my chest. She was changing. It was like every time we were together some of the darkness slipped away, allowing the light to reveal itself. And I liked this side of her. This softer side. This lighter side. This happier side.

“Two coffees coming up.” She set a newly filled mug in front of me. The aromatic scent of coffee wafted from it, steam circling. Moving around the table, she held her mug steady in her hand. After placing it on the table, she slid into her chair. While mine was plain black coffee, hers was piled high with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. When she took a sip, whipped cream painted her nose. With an embarrassed grin, she wiped it off with the back of her hand.

“You must be feeling well today,” I observed.

“I am.” She held the mug in her lap, her index finger running along the rim.

I sat forward, my heart picking up speed. “That’s a good sign, right? Maybe this means that the treatments are working; that you’re getting better.”

She bit her lip. “It just means I have good days and bad days. This is a good one.”

Nodding, I remembered when she told me not to give her false hope. At the time I hadn’t understood it. Wasn’t hope a good thing? But now I got it. Hope was only good if the thing you were hoping for was possible. From what Lennie had told me, it seemed that getting better was a long shot. Maybe even an impossibility.

“So when are you going to let me read your book?” She glanced at my laptop.

“Not yet,” I said. “That’s why I got you that book.” I pointed toward the one sitting in the middle of the table. “To tide you over.”

“Meanie.” She stuck out her tongue, stunning me. It was the most playful I’d seen her. My first inclination was to tease her, call her immature. But I didn’t want to taint her good mood. So instead, I chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m a big meanie,” I joked. “Ask my sister. She used to call me that all the time.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Inwardly I groaned, seriously regretting the mention of my sister. Talking about my family with Lennie was not my idea of a good time. One of the things I liked about Lennie was that she was separate from that part of my life. Now I had no choice but to talk about Amelia. “Um…yeah. She went to our high school, but she was a few years behind us.” I paused. “Amelia.”

Lennie scrunched up her lips, deep in thought. “Amelia Wilde,” she said slowly. Then her head swiveled back and forth. “I don’t remember her. Does she still live here?”

“No. Her husband is in the army. They live in North Carolina.”

“Was her husband from here too?”

“No,” I responded, the edges of my lips tugging upward. “Actually he’d never even been to San Francisco until he and Amelia visited last year for Christmas.” I snorted. “He dragged Amelia to all the tourist attractions. You know, Pier 39, Chinatown, Alcatraz.” Amelia was so irritated. She spent her entire Christmas vacation doing the things we did a million times when we were younger.

“That sounds fun.” Lennie’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” I reeled back. “You do know that all of those things are here in the city. You can do them anytime you want.”

“Yeah, but that’s the funny thing about living somewhere. You take things for granted, and you don’t take advantage of them. I mean, I think I’ve only been to Alcatraz like twice in my life. And I can’t remember the last time I went to Pier 39.”

Neither of those things appealed to me, but seeing Lennie happy did. “Then let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Pick a day, any day, and I’ll take you to Pier 39 and Alcatraz.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I glanced outside and then amended my statement. “Well, any day except today, because it looks like a storm is rolling in.”

“Okay.” She giggled. “Fair enough.” Reaching forward, she picked up her coffee and nestled back in her chair. She appeared content, and that satisfied me. I remembered feeling bad for Amelia when she had to traipse around town hitting up all the tourist attractions with Chris. And now here I was preparing to do the same thing with Lennie. But it didn’t seem as awful as I had assumed.

Mainly because there was no downside to spending the day with Lennie.

But also because I’d do just about anything to make her smile.

It was the same dinner as last time. Actually, now that I thought about it, Mom had made the same dinner the last few times I’d eaten with them. It was one of my favorites. Maybe that was why she kept fixing it for me. But at this point, I was kind of tired of it.

However, beggars can’t be choosers. And, truthfully, my parents were helping me out a lot right now. Mom especially. Therefore, I’d remain grateful. So I shoved more of the chicken into my mouth even though my stomach soured. And when Mom shot me glances here and there, I smiled as if I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

Besides, my stomach issues probably had more to do with my excitement about tomorrow’s outing with Lennie than with the fact that I was tired of this dinner. It was funny how simply thinking of Lennie got my stomach all knotted up.

“Amelia said she talked with you the other day,” Mom’s voice cut into the silence, sharp, like a knife.

“Yeah,” I answered noncommittally, taking another bite. Maybe if my mouth was full of food, she wouldn’t expect me to speak.

“That’s nice.” Mom grinned warmly. “I always wanted you two to be close.”

Mom had a skewed view of reality. It was like she lived in her own world. A world full of smiling faces, kind gestures, sunny skies, and sweet smelling flowers. But at least she was always happy.

Ignorance is bliss, right?

That’s why instead of correcting her, I simply agreed. “Yeah, it is nice, Mom.”

To my right, Ray scraped his fork against his plate. I felt the sound at the back of my teeth, like nails on a chalkboard. When I looked up at him, his lips were curled into their perpetual frown, his gaze fixated on his food.

“Oh, I finished the last chapters you sent me,” Mom said, and my head snapped in her direction. “It’s so good!” She clapped her hands the way she did whenever she got excited.

“Thanks, Mom.” I could feel Ray’s eyes on me, so I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic. Real men didn’t get all giddy the way women did. But inside, my heart lifted.

“When do we get to meet the girl who’s inspiring you?” Mom leaned over, nudging me with her elbow.

It was supposed to be harmless, affectionate even. But every jab felt like a punch. Like she was bruising me. I half-expected my skin to turn black and blue. “What are you talking about?” The scraping ceased. Ray’s arm was still. Only this subject could make him stop shoving food into his face.

“C’mon, honey, it’s clear that you have a muse,” she said the word “muse” as if she’d recently learned it.

“Nope. No muse. Just my own imagination,” I responded, not daring to look up at her.

“The way you write about the main character, it’s like she’s real. There just has to be someone,” Mom insisted.

Ray slammed down his fork with such force, Mom and I both flinched. “Stop trying to push the boy. If he says there’s no girl, then there’s no girl. And let’s thank our freakin’ lucky stars. We all know what happened the last time.”

Mom’s face reddened. “No, you stop!” she yelled back, shocking us both. Mom never spoke like that to anyone. Definitely not Ray. My back went rigid, my shoulders tensing. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. “That was a long time ago, and it wasn’t Colin’s fault. It was that girl’s….” she shook her head as if it pained her to think about it. After muttering something unintelligible under her breath, she lifted her chin. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Colin is a wonderful man. And he deserves to be happy.” Her lips quivered, and she took a deep breath. Then she turned to me and smiled, the mom I was familiar with returning. “I just want you to be happy, son.”

As uncomfortable as I was with the entire conversation, I was grateful to Mom for defending me. She’d always been my defender. My comforter. The only one in my corner. And apparently I needed someone to defend me since I was too chickenshit to do it myself. It should’ve been me getting on Ray for bringing that up tonight, but I’d always been too scared to argue with him. However, Mom was right. I was an adult now. A man. And what happened was in my past. I shouldn’t have to be reminded of it all the time. I sighed. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

Ray grunted, shaking his head as if sickened by the whole display. Mom patted my hand. As if it was the last straw, Ray shoved away from the table, threw down his napkin and stomped out of the room.

“Don’t worry about him,” Mom said in that same innocent, overly cheery voice. “You and I both know the truth about what happened, and that’s all that matters.”

Well, one of us did anyway.

The first time my family made the trip to Alcatraz I was a small child. Amelia tormented me the entire trip, threatening to lock me in one of the cells so I’d be stuck on the island when my family rode the boat back to the city. Now I knew how stupid I was to believe her. There was no way I could get locked in. The prison wasn’t up and running, and tours went through that place all day. But in my naïve little boy mind, I did think it was possible.

It was one of the many times my imagination became my enemy instead of my friend.

For weeks after that trip I had nightmares about prison cells, metal bars caging me in, darkness, cold water, hungry sharks. I heard the click of locks, the slamming of doors, the slap of the waves, the cackling of my sister. And I’d wake in a cold sweat, my pulse racing.

“You okay?” Lennie’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Yeah,” I lied, swallowing hard. Leaning against the railing of the boat, I stared out at the choppy waters. Oddly enough, it calmed me. Lennie stood beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the salty air. The cool breeze washed over my face.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. Her gaze swept across the waves. “I just love the ocean here. It’s funny, because when I would go to the ocean in Southern California it was completely different. The beaches were sandy and warm, and there were always people there.” Clutching the railing, she leaned forward. Rays of sun kissed her smooth, pale skin. “But I actually like it better here. I know it’s cold, but I don’t need to swim in it. I’m not even a very good swimmer.” She chuckled. “Rob hated that about me. He grew up in the water.”

I turned, leaning my back against the side of the boat, and peered down at her. She was picking at her fingernails, appearing agitated. “What exactly was the story with you and Rob?”

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.