My Skylar (11 page)

Her heart was beating just as fast. When she slid my hand off, it brushed along her soft breast.

I knew now that she definitely didn’t wear a bra to sleep, and my dick rose to confirm it.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I am, now that you’re here.”

Hearing her say that made my stomach unsettled because I knew that tomorrow, I wouldn’t

be. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head.”

She took a deep breath. “It changes by the minute, but right now, it’s that I just wish I knew

what to expect with the chemo. The doctor says everyone takes to it differently. I could get really sick, or I could be just fine. There is no way to know.”

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. I know you’ll be able to handle it even if it’s not

easy. Anytime you can’t, if I’m not there, I want you to pick up the phone, and I’ll stay on with you for as long as you need me to. Promise me that you’ll call me anytime you need me, day or night.”

She was still lost in thought when she said, “Okay.”

I was trying to be strong, but deep down, I was scared shitless.

Aside from the occasional sound of a car passing by, the room was completely quiet. We

continued to face each other. I wanted to kiss her so badly but didn’t know where that would lead.

She wasn’t wearing a bra or pants under her long shirt. I knew if I started something, I wouldn’t

be able to stop. Tish had said she trusted me, and I couldn’t betray that. Not to mention, now

would not be the time to push things with Skylar.

She ran her fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry that I ruined what could have been such a

special moment.”

I brushed my hand against her cheek. “What are you talking about?”

“The night I told you I had cancer. You were opening up to me. You told me you wanted to take

the next step.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not going anywhere. As soon as you make it through this, we can

pick up where we left off.” When her worried eyes trailed downward, I pulled her face toward me.

“Look at me. I’m not going anywhere, Skylar.”

“What are we anyway, Mitch? You’re not my boyfriend. I call you my friend, but it feels like so

much more. What’s the definition? And with what’s about to happen to me, what can I possibly be

to you now?”

There was only one answer that made the most sense to me. “Everything. You’re…everything to

me.”

Instead of responding, she turned back around facing away and backed into me to spoon her.

This time, I allowed myself to fully relax. Unfortunately, with her ass up against me, that meant

my dick grew to full attention. I gently brushed my thumb along her side. Being with her like this, was the most intimate thing I had ever done with anyone. Sure, I’d been with girls, but all of it

paled in comparison to this moment, just holding Skylar, drowning out the world.

The only thing I knew for sure in life was that I loved this girl, but I couldn’t tell her now. She would think it was only because she had cancer when the truth was I’d been in love with her for

almost the entire time I’d known her. I couldn’t let her believe I was only saying it now out of fear.

My hand ran down the length of her torso. Realization came in waves, and when it hit me this

time, it was like a ton of bricks: there was a cancer growing inside of this little, perfect body, a cancer that if left untreated, was a ticking time bomb that would likely kill her.

I grabbed a hold of her tighter and felt tears sting my eyes.
Please stop.
There was nowhere I could run if I started to lose it.

Then, I heard her voice so low it was almost inaudible. “It’s okay to cry.”

I shut my eyes, willing the tears away, but she knew. She could feel it.

“I’m not crying,” I said as the first teardrop fell.

She turned around. “Yeah, and you’re not hard, either.”

We both burst into laughter with tears pouring from our eyes.

Skylar fell asleep in my arms about fifteen minutes later.

I didn’t sleep at all that night. I chose to stay up and listen to the sound of her breathing

instead, each breath reassurance that she was still here, that everything was going to be fine.

It had to be.

I watched the sun begin to rise on a day I wished would never come. Then, for the first time

since the little girl in braids came into my life, I prayed to a God I hoped was still listening.

CHAPTER 11

SKYLAR

“Just do it.”

Lizete held my father’s electric shaver but was refusing to turn it on. My new stepmother was

the perfect person for this job. We weren’t close enough for it to really affect her like it would my mother, and I couldn’t bear to do it myself. So, a few days after my hair started falling out in

chunks, I asked her to meet me in the bathroom.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” I said, staring blankly at my father’s outdated pink bathroom tile.

“But you still have a lot of hair.”

“It’s only a matter of days. This way, I can control it.”

She nodded. “Okay, m’ija, whatever you want.” I hated her nickname for me, the Spanish word

for daughter. I wasn’t her daughter. I had to give her credit, though. When she married my father,

she hadn’t signed up to have a sick teenager living with them. As much as I wanted to hate her, I

couldn’t. She made the best damn arroz con pollo, too.

She clicked a button, triggering the buzzing sound. I saw nothing but her big, fake boobs

before closing my eyes as the blade raked over my head. Focusing on the sound, I continued to

keep my eyes shut and told myself this was about preserving my dignity and beating chemo to the

punch.

It’s just hair.

After a few minutes, a draft blew over my head, and I knew it was all gone.

When the buzzing stopped, Lizete gently placed her cold hands on my scalp. I still refused to

open my eyes. “Can you give me a minute alone?”

She patted my shoulders. “Sure, m’ija. Come downstairs when you’re ready, and I’ll make you

something to eat.”

I heard the door shut.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…two…two…one.

I opened my eyes. My heart skipped a beat.

It’s just hair…until it’s gone.

I continued to stare into the mirror, hoping that at any moment, the sight of myself bald would

get easier to accept. No matter how much you try to prepare yourself for something, you just don’t

know how you’ll handle it until it happens. Now, I
looked
like I had cancer, and the reality of that was hard to take. Pretending that everything was normal would no longer be an option.

I cried for the first time since arriving in New York over two months ago.

Up until this moment, nothing had been unbearable. I had already completed the first cycle of

a type of chemo called ABVD. It sounds like a sexually transmitted disease, but the letters

represent each of the four different drugs in the regimen. Even getting those toxins pumped into

me hadn’t been as bad as losing my hair.

Actually, so far, chemo wasn’t as scary as I’d imagined. To avoid frequent needle sticks in my

veins, the drugs were administered right through a port that was inserted under my collarbone.

The nurses always did their best to cheer me up and take my mind off it without trying to make

it seem like a bed of roses. They gave me what I needed without feeding me a load of bullshit.

They’d have sour candies to help rid the bad taste in my mouth caused by one of the drugs,

Adriamycin. They’d also turn the television onto the entertainment channel for me. I could block

out what was actually happening by involving myself in reality television and would forever

associate treatment with watching the Kardashians.
Khemo.

My father would stay with me for the full three hours. Once they administered all four drugs,

they’d flush my port, and I was good to go home where I’d try to pretend I didn’t have cancer until the next treatment. Forgetting was easier in the beginning.

I rubbed my fingers along the top of my prickly head now, wondering how I was going to face

Mitch looking like this. He was scheduled to visit over Christmas, which was coming up in less

than a week. I hadn’t even picked out a wig yet. I wasn’t expecting to lose my hair so fast since I’d managed to make it through the entire first cycle with no hair loss. To have it come out in chunks

all of a sudden was devastating because I was starting to hope that maybe I’d get lucky. Now,

Lizete and I had plans to visit a wig shop in Bensonhurst tomorrow.

She had left me an assortment of her hats to choose from on my bed. I picked a gray, knit

beret, feeling immediate relief when I looked into the mirror after putting it on.

My phone chimed. I grabbed it from my pocket and noticed a text from Mitch.

Just thinking of you. I can’t wait to see you this weekend. How are you doing?

I wanted to tell him that I was miserable and scared about letting him see me without hair,

but I didn’t see the point in worrying him when he was so far away.

Skylar: Doing okay. How are you?

Mitch: I miss you. So does Seamus. He hates me because he thinks I’m keeping

you away.

Skylar: I miss you too.

Typing those words had made me cry again. I lay on the bed staring up at the textured paint

on the ceiling, licking my tears as they fell. I missed him. I missed his smell. I missed home. I

missed my life before cancer.

I hugged my stuffed Tigger tightly. With pink walls and white furniture, my room at my

father’s house was girly and filled with my old stuffed animals. When my parents first got

divorced, I used to take a lot of my toys with me to feel more at home, and most of them were still here.

I could smell Adobo seasoning. Lizete was cooking something.

She called from downstairs. “Skylar?” I cringed at how the ‘r’ in my name always rolled off her

tongue. “Do you need anything? Lunch is almost ready.”

My Dad had a meeting and wouldn’t be home until tonight. I wished I were completely alone

so that I didn’t have to worry about her catching me crying.

I wiped my eyes and yelled, “Everything’s fine. I’m gonna stay up here for a while and rest.”

It was getting dark out. I shut off the light to take a nap, and it was nearly pitch black in my

room.

When my phone rang, I almost didn’t pick up. After a few rings, I reached over and saw that it

was Mitch.

“Hi, Mitch.”

“Hey, you.”

A painful longing grew in my chest upon hearing his smooth, deep voice.

I cleared my throat. “What’s going on?”

“This is gonna sound strange. I know you said you were doing okay, but I’ve just had this

feeling all day that you weren’t, and to be honest, I’m not doing so hot myself. I needed to hear

your voice.”

How did he know? I closed my eyes and knew that if I opened my mouth, he’d hear that I was

starting to cry.

I needed to hear your voice, too.

“Skylar? Are you there?”

My voice was shaky. “Yes. I’m here.”

“Are you crying?”

I sniffled. “Yes.”

His tone was soothing, almost a whisper. “Talk to me. What’s making you sad?”

I hesitated, but he’d find out sooner or later. “I had to shave my head today.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just breathed into the phone. “I knew something happened.

I just knew it.” He sighed, and his voice lowered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know it was inevitable. It was just a shock to actually see it all gone.”

“I can only imagine.” He paused. “Listen, have you checked your email? It’s really ironic, but I

sent you something this morning. Are you in front of a computer?”

“I can be.”

“I’ll wait.”

I reached for my laptop. When I logged in, I saw that Mitch had sent me a bunch of images of

famous people who had shaved their heads for movie roles. The first one was of Natalie Portman,

who happened to be his celebrity crush.
So, naturally, I hated her.
The next was of Demi Moore.

Then, there was Megan Fox.

I wasn’t exactly sure of his point. “Wow, this is—”

“You see them?”

“Yeah…”

“What do you see when you look at them?”

“Actually, they don’t look too bad because they’re all beautiful anyway.”

“You think they’re beautiful?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You’re ten times more beautiful, Skylar.”

I could never get enough of hearing him call me that. “Mitch…”

“It might take some getting used to, not having your hair, but in the end, you’re still gorgeous,

and you know what I’m gonna think of when I see your bald head?”

You’re never seeing my bald head, buddy.

“What?”

“The fact that the chemo is doing its job, kicking the asses of those cancer cells. I wouldn’t

have it any other way.”

I wasn’t sure if he had practiced this spiel to make me feel better or if he truly meant it. Either way, he had succeeded in brightening my mood.

My lips curved upwards into a smile. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re never gonna find out.”

I heard barking. “Oh no. That’s not…”

“Yup. The barking is back. He hates my guts. He thinks I sent you away.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“Hang on.” I heard the cage open, and the barking got louder then Mitch said, “Okay, I’m

putting the phone up to his ear.”

“Seamus? It’s me.”

The barking stopped.

I continued talking. “I really miss you. Please be a good boy. Okay? No more barking. Be good