A Long Time Coming (23 page)

Tugging at his sleeve, she
gazed up at him. Her blue eyes were brighter than the sun setting against their
backsides. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He pulled her up the steps,
unresponsive, but smiling anyways. Careful not to make a fool of himself and
slip on the damp metal of the bleachers, he focused on making it to the top.
And as they stood before the entrance to the booth, he stared back down at her
behind him, unable to keep the corny line from sliding off his tongue. “Yeah,
I’m crazy…about you.”

Her giggles filled the air and
she shoved his shoulder, only instead of letting go, she gripped his upper arm
and hugged him close instead. God, was this for real? Her…him…together…here? He
shook his head at his doubtful thoughts, reaching upwards to grab the spare
above the doorframe.

“Wow, anyone could have found
that key, you know. Is Hillsdale High really that stupid to think nobody will
figure that out?”

“Yeah, you’d think so, huh?”
The door twisted open seconds after he slipped the key into the lock.
Swallowing was impossible as he flicked on the lights. He wasn’t thinking about
security, or the school stadium either. He was thinking about how she’d react
when she realized what he and his mom had concocted.

It was now…or never.

* * *

No. No way. This was not the
doing of David Paul Anderson. This was the doing of a professional… A
Mrs.
A
professional in particular. Her heart stopped beating in her chest.
Rockets of excitement were blasting off in her stomach too. Eyes wide, she
stared up at the red–faced boy who’d had an obvious hand in this, as well.

“David?”

“Is it okay? I mean, I wanted
to make it special and all, you know, since we never got to go to that dance
together.” His throat bobbed up and down. Soulful were the eyes before her;
soulful, and honest, and everything she had ever wanted. David had created a
paradise…in the small span of an announcer’s booth. For her. Holy macaroni and
cheese…

The words she longed to speak
were trapped in the base of her throat. Dragging a hand down her neck, she
blinked, taking in the area surrounding them both. To the right on the floor
sat a simple red picnic blanket. Stacked around the edges were two plates and
containers packed with a plethora of foods that looked downright sinful.
Berries, chocolate, crackers, cheeses…you name it, it was there. Her stomach
grumbled as the cherries from the cheesecake seemingly glistened under the
lights above. She pointed her gaze toward the ceiling, curious as to what
sparkled down on them so brightly, smiling as the white Christmas lights
twinkled from the ceiling. Intermingling with them were crystal icicle–looking
things that were both beautiful and dangerous–looking at the same time. The
equipment used during games was covered with another bigger blanket. But it was
what was taped to the outside of the blanket that had her holding her breath,
along with her words: Pictures…of the two of them, or of them individually,
were placed in no significant order around three simple words made from some
sort of cardboard material. It didn’t matter what the letters were constructed
of though…it’s what they said that created the ache of happiness in her chest.

David Loves Abigail.

Jesus. This went beyond a
first date. This was straight up anniversary shit here. “David, my god, this is
amazing!”

The gasp in her throat had his
face flushing red. Whenever he got embarrassed like that, her heart constricted
to a point where she was almost giddy. He scratched the back of his neck,
gifting her with that one–sided smile she was so damn in love with.

“Thanks…I, um, well, Mom
helped a little…but the pictures and stuff were my idea. You don’t think it’s
like, too corny do you? I mean, if you don’t like it, then we can just go and—”

“Stop,” bringing her hand to
his mouth, she pressed a finger against his lips. “This is the most wonderful
thing anyone has ever done for me. You don’t even know how…how happy this makes
me.” She chewed on her lip, moved her hand, and went up on her tiptoes to show
him how much.

The kiss was soft, gentle, and
brief, but she prayed the heart she put into it showed him just how much she
meant what she said.

“Okay,” he sighed against her
mouth a second later, pressing his head to hers.

“Okay…” her response was
breathless. She reached for his hand and pulled him toward the pictures, eying
them all with disbelief. She meant it when she said this was the most amazing
thing anyone had ever done for her.

“Where’d you get all these?”
She traced the edges of the photos, smiling at them together—hugging, laughing—around
the age of six. Then around ten, with bunny ears, and angry frowns… The years
went on, and with each picture, you could see the happiness they instilled in
each other. She was no doubt in love with him then, and it only grew deeper
with time.

“My mom…she had a lot of them
stored away. I had some too though.” Nonchalance was never David’s game, and it
was no different tonight. He was obviously embarrassed. His eyes were
downturned; his lips were puckered—never had she seen him appear so nervous.
Talk about perfection…in the best flawed way.

Deciding it was time to ease
his adorable suffering she plopped onto the blanket, and made an immediate play
for the food. She smiled, pulling him down next to her. “Okay, so I don’t get
how a dog got into this food. It looks untouched!”

Shaking his head, he sighed,
seemingly relaxing as he dished out some random fruit onto a plate. “Damn
thing, he just appeared out of nowhere, digging through the crap with his paws.
I was trying to set it up outside earlier, before the rain hit. Down on the
field would have been our eating area, and up here would be our, um…dancing
area.”

“Dancing?” hand frozen over
her plate, she gaped up at him. David was freely going to dance with her?

“Yes…dancing. But not much,
cuz I kind of only have one
good
foot, you know.” A slow, shy grin
appeared across his lips. His cheeks darkened red as he shrugged. Adorable, shy
David was a sight to behold.

Smiling, she shoved his
shoulder again, unable to stop her little child–like flirts. He made her feel
giddy, and young, and so, so in love it wasn’t even funny. “Whatever. Your
jokes suck.” She popped an orange slice into her mouth a second later, moaning
as the sweetness practically melted in her throat.

His eyes widened in mock
sadness as he pressed a hand against his chest. “No… I’m an awesome joke
teller.”

Chuckling around her orange,
she responded with a wink, “Yah, maybe when you were like, ten or something.
Not now though.”

“You love my jokes, don’t
lie.” He scooted next to her, lifting more goodness from the basket and placing
it onto their plates.

Leaning back onto her hands,
she grinned. “Um, yeah…you’re just a riot, Mr.
Moody Ass
.”

He laughed, shaking his head.
“Well, I’m working on the moody thing.”

“That you are, D… That you
are.”

Dinner was amazing—simple,
delicious—just enough to make her full, but not sick. They laughed about
everything under the sun, just like two friends who hadn’t seen each other for
years, which in a weird way they kind of were. But yet the underlying passion between
them, continued to settle in the air the longer they sat there. Small
movements, that’s all it took to set her body off: When he’d stroke the back of
her hand with his thumb; or when he’d brush a stray hair from her cheek; each
and every movement of his fingers had her burning with need—for him. She didn’t
know if she would ever recover from the sensations he instilled inside of her,
nor did she know if she ever really wanted to.

She picked up the yellow rose
and inhaled the sweet scent while he spoke of school, and the weird, but cool
friends he’d made. He smiled, he laughed, changing right before her eyes into
the lighthearted boy she once knew. And with each grin, or chuckle, she felt
her body lighten too, as if a weight was lifting off of her with every word
spoken between them.

“Okay, time for the second
part of your
wooing
.”

“Second part? I don’t need a
second part,” she leaned over the last of their cheesecake, her lips just
inches from his, “I’m beyond wooed, David.”

His forehead lowered, and he
shut his eyes, his lashes grazing her cheeks. “This next part was my idea
too…not my mom’s, so let me have my moment, okay?” Giggles erupted from her
mouth as he kissed each of her eyes. “Keep these closed,” he whispered his
demand as his lips grazed her lids for a second time.” Her smile burned against
her cheeks, and she nodded, agreeing with whatever he wanted.

The sound of rustling echoed
through her ears and she was dying to peek, but decided this particular
surprise would be worth it in the end, even though she had no idea what it was
going to be.

“Open them Abigail…” she did,
blinking to clear the fog from her contact lenses, her breath catching as she
stared down at his hands.

In his fingers rested another
rose…this one orange. Her mouth was wide, her words missing. “It means energy,
and a passion for all things life. That’s you—my energetic girl, who doesn’t
stand down—who makes my life full, complete, and so worth living.” God
damn…what was she supposed to say to that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, because
her words were again stolen away as he pressed an additional rose into her
hands. “Lavender, for elegance and grace, because everything you say or do in
life exhibits those qualities.”

This time the tears started,
streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away. But instead of
fighting them, she let them go, too enraptured with the fact that he was
slipping yet another flower into her hands. “White…for purity and innocence,”
his gaze was downturned, his hands shook. He was scared, as was she. But the
best kind of scared. The kind where they were now in unexplored territory, but
they’d be there…exploring it together.

“They had to dye this one for
me…but I had to have it, because it means a lot. Blue…for peace, truth,
serenity. Because you are those things…to me. My calm, my one reason for
living.”

Okay, how was she not going to
start sobbing here? “And another—pink—your favorite color for one,” he laid
this one in her lap, grinning before reaching up to wipe her tears away with
his finger. “Pink is for the joy you make me feel, and for the beauty that you
are.”

Her body trembled, and if she
would have had the courage to speak, then her voice would have too. She knew
what was next, and the anticipation of hearing him made her heart race against
her chest. There was no way she’d emotionally survive this. Her heart was on
the fast track to explosion. But it would be the best possible way to die.
Ever.

“And red,” he broke the stem,
and brought it to her cheek, sighing as he tucked it behind her ear. “Because
you, Abigail, are all I desire. You are beautiful like a red rose, vital to my
life, to my survival, whether you believe it or not, my strength to keep going
when I want to give up. And finally, you are my love and someday, hopefully, my
forever.”

Did he write
this
down
in his journal? Because David was apparently a walking, talking, breathing
Hallmark card—one that
nobody
would ever get to open again, but her.

“Dance with me.” How could she
not, especially after that?

Nodding, she settled the
flowers on the blanket next to her, taking his hand as he stood. He leaned over
and switched on this iPod, letting the voice of Keith Urban fill the void of
the air between them. Her brows rose in question as she wrapped her arms around
his neck, and he shrugged settling his hands against her backside. His voice
was low and soft in her ear, “It’s Harley’s music, don’t knock it.”

Laying her head against his
shoulder, she sighed, shutting her eyes, “Never.”

They swayed to the music
together. Abigail wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between them for
eternity. This was what life was supposed to be made of. This was all she
wanted. The two of them—together—forgetting the bad…loving the good. Being one…
And yeah, the future wasn’t going to be easy, nor did it look exactly bright,
but together, they could get through anything. No matter what life threw at
them. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

Chapter Twenty–Three

“Dude, real sorry
about fucking up your date last night.”

“Whatever. You had
to work.”

Cringing, David
turned away and faced the other end of the elevator. The stench of night–before
beer sat heavy on his friend’s breath, accompanied by an overabundance of
aftershave, followed in tow by cigarette smoke. It wasn’t exactly ideal for a
guy currently dressed in big red shoes, a polka dotted costume, and a wickedly
nasty rainbow wig.

Today was the
first day on the new job, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. At all. Luckily,
the clown costume was able to wait due to the fact that he was just in training
—
observing what the duties of a fucking supposed clown
entailed. All he could imagine though, as he stared into JT’s bloodshot eyes,
was an image of blood coming out of his friend’s mouth, like he was starring in
some straight–up B–rated horror movie instead of working at a children’s
hospital.

“I
did work,
you know. So don’t act jilted, man,” JT growled in defense, his eyes narrowing.

Holding his hands
up in surrender, David laughed, just as JT’s red nose fell against his red painted
lips. Snatching it away with a harsh groan, he settled it back on, lifted his
head high just as the ding of the elevator signaled their fifth floor arrival.
“Just shut your ass up, all right? We got sick kids to entertain.”

Controlling his
laughter was near impossible as David drug a suitcase full of JT’s clown
props
in his wake. “It’s all good Bozo, just relax. I’m not pissed anymore
anyways.”

“Why…you get lucky
or something? Cuz I sure the fuck didn’t.” His black hair slipped from beneath
his rainbow wig, but he didn’t move to fix it as they slipped through the
double doors. The guy was downright evil looking, but at the same time, David
knew he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just had that look and way about him: lax,
funny, but strange at the same time. Guess that’s why he liked him. He wasn’t
perfect, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone said about him.

“Shut it…we’re in
the presence of kids here! And it’s none of your business anyways. What I do
with my girlfriend is for me to know, and for you to
never
find out.”

“You dirty dog
you.” JT dug an elbow into his ribs, winking the eye that was shadowed by a
huge brow ring.

“I’m telling you
to shut the fuck up before I—”

“Good afternoon
boys…”

Hobbling to a
stop, David about fell over as the beastly woman in a white overcoat stepped
before him. The grinding halt left his leg aching, but he held back his grimace
for fear that the lady would think he was scared of her…which in a crazy way,
he kind of was.

“Yo, doc. Good to
see ya.” JT pounded on her arm, not giving a shit that this lady was staring
daggers through them both
—
David especially.

“Mr. Thompson,
glad to see you again. Is this the new employee your aunt let you hire on?”

Proud like a
father, JT wrapped a lose arm over David’s shoulders, “Yep, he’s it.”

Her eyes roamed
his body in a scrutinizing sort of way, her eyes narrowing as she studied his
crutch. “Are you going to be able to handle this job, Mr.…?”

“David. David
Anderson.” His sweaty hand rose to meet hers, but she nodded, unresponsive to
his greeting. Clearing his throat, and dropping his hand, David stared back at
her, matching her bitchiness to a T. “And yes. I’m capable of being a
clown
.”

A snarky laugh
left her mouth, but otherwise she didn’t show a lick of softness. This lady was
a doctor that worked with kids? What the fuck?

“Follow me. Layla
needs some cheering up the most this evening. She had a rough day.”

Shrugging, JT
nodded him along. But David was unable to follow. The walls
—
white, familiar, foreboding as shit
—
threatened to close in on him the more he took in the area
with his gaze. It was all too familiar, in the most unfamiliar way. He’d never
been there, but the place was nothing but a reminder of the past he’d never
get
past. He reached down, rubbing a hand over his left upper leg, stopping right
above the spot where his prosthetic met his skin. He could do this. He could.
He just needed to grow the fuck up
—
be a man.
Again, he was alive, and now he was walking for Christ’s sake. His spirit
wasn’t broken anymore. His heart was whole, even if his leg wouldn’t be again.

“Dude, David,
hurry up, man,” JT darted back to his side, grabbing the suitcase from his
hand, “Doc’s not in a good mood today.” Frowning, David followed him through
the halls, careful not to look into the rooms, careful not to let his eyes
latch onto things he didn’t want to see.

Sick fucking
kids…what the hell was he thinking? What was he doing here?

“Layla! Oh boy, oh
boy…you’re looking mighty pretty today young lady!”

What the hell was
that voice coming out of JT’s mouth? It sounded like a squawking duck on the
verge of an orgasm. No longer in his own selfish world, David found himself
grinning as he followed the sound of JT’s voice. That is, until he entered the
room. There, sitting on the bed, with her brown eyes wide, her head completely
bald, sat the tiniest little girl who looked no older than six.

All the air left
his lungs as he studied her face, her sparkling eyes in particular. She had
cancer…she was dying…and she was beautiful.

Her mom rose from
the bed, looking identical to the little girl, the dad darker than them both,
but owning the same brown eyes as the child. They were laughing, fully focused
on their daughter’s face as she giggled. JT gave an award–winning clown
performance, leaving David in sudden awe at his unbelievable skater boy
transformation to this…good, decent clown–guy.

His stomach
churned the longer he stood there though. Watching the happy scene get even
happier was so far out of his realm that he had to go
—
had to get out of there
—
had
to breathe. Standing there any longer would kill him. So he backed towards the
door, his hands pressed to his sides. There was no way he could continue to
watch this all go down. And it just confirmed the fact that he couldn’t do this
—
bring this kind of sadness into his already jacked up
emotional life. Granted, it was only three nights a week, and two hours a day,
but still, there’d be no way he could take the pain of watching all these
little people get worse over time, especially knowing he’d have to see it soon
at home. Call him selfish, call him a rat bastard too, but he just couldn’t do
it.

“Come with me,
please.”

The stern voice
pulled him away from his thoughts, and he willingly followed it into the hall,
inhaling the smell of over–cleanliness. He was more than happy to leave behind
the cancer kids and the sight of JT’s clown shit. “I have someone I would like
you to meet.” The doctor was all business, waltzing her way through another set
of doors. David frowned as he caught up to her side. What exactly made this
lady tick? What was behind that beast of a persona she put on so well? 

Her face was round
and her hair was short and curly. Her stomach was heavy, but her face held
pride. She was probably around forty or so, and it was obvious that age had
taken its toll on her, big time. But she also seemed like nothing fazed her
either. Maybe working with dying children all day, every day, had hardened her.
You’d almost
have
to be hardened to do this job.

Room five eleven
—
that’s where they stopped. Her eyes held a hint of
anxiousness, but otherwise, the lady was poised and proper as she spoke.
“Behind this door is a boy. He’s eleven
—
just
lost his arm in a dirt bike race two weeks ago. You should be able to relate to
him.” She cleared her throat, and glanced down at his leg, before refocusing on
his face once again.

“How do you know
about—”

“You have the
walk. And the crutch gave it away. I’ve worked in this job long enough to know
an amputee when I see them.” She shrugged, pulling a chart from the wall behind
her. “Anyway, go in there
—
see if you can talk
to him. He’s not a talker, usually just shuts himself away from everyone and
everything around him, except for his Xbox.” Was she shaking? Why was she
nervous? “It–It’s a single parent situation. The dad is gone, the mom…she, uh,
works all day. He needs someone. And just a warning
—
he’s been known to throw punches if you make him mad
enough.” And with a pat on his back, she turned away, but not before she
shouted over her shoulder at him once more.

“Oh, and if you
get the kid to like you, then you can have the job, minus the clown suit.”

“I thought JT’s
aunt hired me? I thought the clown suit was part of the deal?” Not that he was
complaining or anything. Hell, if he didn’t have to wear a big wig and red
nose, then he’d definitely be okay with that.

“You can have a
different
job.” She nodded and a grin
—
if only a
little one
—
appeared on her hardened face.

“Cryptic much
lady?” He cleared his throat, and shook his head, staring blankly back at the
door again. “Well five eleven with the one arm…here I come…”

He shook his arms
out at his side, cracking his neck back and forth. Yeah, okay, he could do
this. Eleven–year–old kids were a hell of a lot better than six year olds with
cancer. And he could relate to the amputee thing too, so yeah…
this
was
semi–doable.

Peeking in through
the crack of the door, he immediately heard the sound of clicking…and cussing.
Damn, the little dude had a mouth on him. “Get out of my way…stop putting
bricks on my house you shit–tard.”

“Wow, when I was
kid, my mom would have shoved soap into my mouth and made me stick money into a
jar if I said that kind of crap.”

The remote the boy
had been holding fell to the ground and he jumped back on the bed as David came
inching in. Clicking the door shut behind him, determined not to come across as
creepy, he forced his body to relax and made himself at home. The kid had no
idea who he was and quite possibly could have been pissing his pants by the
look on his face.

He’d fallen
backwards on the bed and thrown the blanket over his head. He’d turned his back
away from him completely. “Hey, man, it’s all good. I’m just a dude looking for
a job.” He cringed, running a hand down his face. Crap, he sounded completely
fucked up. He and kids didn’t mix
—
they
freaked him out. But yeah, apparently that was going to have to be changing
soon.

“I mean, I’m here
with the clown…”

“Fuck the clown,”
the words were soft, but they were there. He heard them all the same. So much
for the kid not talking to strangers. He shook his head and grinned. This kid
was going to be a riot, he could already tell.

“That’s what I was
thinking,” David chuckled to himself, settling his worn down body into the
leather chair next to the bed.

Kicking the
recliner back, he stuck his hands behind his head and waited. For what, he
didn’t know. But soon, slowly, blue eyes peeked out from under the sheet.
Finally, with his dark brows pulled together, the little cussing kid pulled the
blanket off his face fully. His forehead scrunched into lines as he stared back
at David.

Raising his own
brows in question, David just stared back, but didn’t talk. Instead, he lifted
his pant leg, to loosen his prosthetic.

Might as well get
it all out there now anyways…

“Holy shit dude…that’s
pretty cool!” Popping up from the pillow, the boy’s eyes went wide, his blond
hair looking Justin Bieber–ish as he tossed it back. And that’s when David saw
it
—
or didn’t see it actually
—
the
empty spot from his left elbow down. Damn…it was true. And the kid was so
young, too.

Shaking his head,
he refocused on his own leg, rubbing the upper half. It ached, but not as bad
as it usually did. “Yeah, you think so? It’s new. Only got it about five months
or so ago…I was in a wheelchair for two years before I decided to get over
myself and do something about it.”

“I’m gonna get one
of those just as soon as mom says I can.” His face was bright. The boy was so
eager that David’s chest tightened at the sight. God, this kid wasn’t feeling a
damn bit sorry for himself, was he? To be so young and have such high hopes
about an unsure future. Fuck, here he was, envying an eleven–year–old.

“Yeah, it’s been
tough getting used to it, but it’s getting better.”

“You get those
fandom…pantom pains or whatever?”

David nodded, “Phantom
leg pains?” The boy shrugged, swinging his legs to the side, standing up.
“Yeah, I do. They suck.”

Nodding again, the
boy tiptoed over, eyes bright, curious, as he studied the prosthetic. David
swallowed, waiting for him to do something. The doctor had said he was not a
friendly little guy, but everything about this kid screamed good to him.