Rosebush (14 page)

“See?” he said, pushing my hair behind my ear in a gesture that would become familiar. “There’s the sweet-innocent thing. That’s how you play the game, lady girl. You never talk to the girl you’re interested in, you talk to her friends. Play a little hard to get, peak their interest.” By then we were at my house. He pulled over and turned off the ignition. “I mean, I don’t go around asking girls out if they’re not going to say yes; I’m a sensitive guy.” He made an earnest poetic face and I laughed. “There you go, making fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun, I’m—”

He kissed me softly on the lips and when he pulled away, he had this surprised expression on his face.

“Wow,” he said. Our foreheads were close together, his fingers on my chin. He paused like he was waiting to see my reaction.

“Wow,” I echoed. It seemed like the right thing to say. This was it, I guessed. The way kissing was supposed to be. It had been nice. Warm and pleasant.

He tilted his head back, resting his cheek against the headrest, and ran his fingers through the tips of my hair. He looked at me for a long time, like he wanted to know me, like he thought I was special. His fingers moved from my hair, down my arm, finally twining through mine. His gaze was warm, admiring, and I felt like he was seeing the me I wished everyone would see.

“Would you—” His eyes moved away from mine, then back, and he stammered, “I—I mean, would you go out with me?”

There was something so moving about how vulnerable he seemed, how nervous. How much he really seemed to care what I thought.

“I’d like that.”

He exhaled hard. “Phew. I was worried there for a second.”

“That I’d say no?” I was incredulous. Had anyone ever said no to this guy before?

“That maybe you didn’t feel what I felt when we kissed.” He was stroking my palm. “But you did, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Good. I’ll pick you up at eight next Saturday night.”

“Actually Saturday night is the one night I can’t—”

“You’ll work it out,” he said, smiling. He was looking at me in this completely different way now, more confident, his eyes half open. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, like a prince in a fairy tale. “I hate being disappointed and I know you won’t disappoint me.”

I wouldn’t, I decided. No way.

I met Langley and Kate at Livingston Bagel the next day for brunch. I waited until we’d gotten through the previous day’s gossip about Elsa dying the hair of all her stepmother’s collectible dolls rainbow and the two freshman girls who had been caught with ecstasy to tell them my news. “David? Asked you out?” Langley was so incredulous she dropped her fork and pushed aside her chopped salad.

“I know, I couldn’t believe it either.”

“You’re not going to go, are you?” Kate said. She began closely studying the ends of her hair.

“Um, yes. I mean, I thought so. Why?”

She looked at me. “He and Nicky just broke up. Aren’t you worried you’re just a rebound fling?”

This wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d been expecting them to be happy for me, not—cautious. Kate had finished her study of her hair and was staring past me with her eyes unfocused, the way she got when she was working on getting into character.

“What’s wrong? I thought you would be excited.”

“I am,” Kate said, her eyes sliding back to me. “Of course I am. I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt. David is—he’s not exactly a monk.”

Langley had returned to her salad. “I was just surprised. Personally, I think it’s great,” she said, nibbling around the edges of the mouthful on her fork. “And so what if it is only a rebound, you guys will have a few fun weeks together and then you’ll both date other people.”

“Sure,” I said.

Instead David and I were now nearing our eight- month anniversary. I still smiled every time I saw his name on my caller ID or caught a glimpse of his car. I couldn’t believe he’d picked me. And if anything, he seemed to like me and want to spend time with me more with every passing week.

“I feel like I can trust you,” he said on our fourth date. “Like I can tell you anything,” and I felt so important, so loved.

He
did
confide everything to me, too—about the time when he was seven when he’d overwatered his father’s bonsai collection and his father had beaten him so hard his mother had to take him to the hospital. “Told the nurses I had an accident,” he said, matter-of-fact, no blame. “What could she do? If she’d said anything else, the man would have beaten her too.” About the time when he was twelve that his father made him go for four days without food or water because he’d forgotten to check the water filter in a prize-fish tank. It was no wonder David had inherited a little temper.

But there was also this soft, sweet, boyish side to him that I adored. The side that could sit and tell stories to Annie for hours, that loved old romantic movies or anything with the Muppets, that made tiny mewing noises when I rubbed his feet. He would bring me little presents for no reason, a necklace with a heart on it, an action figure of Wonder Woman because I reminded him of her. Things that meant something to him, that he hoped would mean something to me.

And there was the time, after we’d been going out for a month, when I woke up to the sound of knocking on my bedroom window. I opened it and he was there, shivering, even though it wasn’t that cold.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, helping him over the threshold.

His eyes were clear and looked so bereft, so sad. I’d never seen anything like it.

“Can we, can you just love me for a minute?” he asked, and fell into my arms.

He started sobbing and, still holding him, I lowered us both onto my bed. For a long time we just lay like that, him in my arms, me comforting him like a child. He gripped me hard, so hard it hurt and left bruises the next day, but I didn’t care. That was him, how passionate he was. When his sobs had subsided, he looked at me and smiled more sweetly than I’d ever seen before.

“I love you, Jane,” he said. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

I lost my virginity to him that night, a token of love, of the trust he could have in me. He was wonderful and sweet and loved me. The only time we fought was if I had to break a date with him, but in a way, that just made me like him more because it showed how much he cared.

“So you’re really feeling better?” David said now, next to my hospital bed. He was fingering a beat against his leg, the way he did when he was anxious.

I nodded.

“Well enough to tell me what that surprise of yours was that I didn’t get to experience? It’s only fair, I already coughed up 139.”

I felt my chest tighten. I knew it would all be okay once I told him, but right now I didn’t want to do anything to ruin how good it was having him there. Besides, I might never get better and then it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Nope. I’m still saving it.”

“That is just mean.” He pouted with his gorgeous mouth.

“I know you can be patient.” I noticed he had a scratch on his face. “What happened to you, babe?”

His fingers went to it. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

He shrugged and pushed the sunglasses up his nose and stared into the middle distance. “Guess I was a little more out of it than I thought Thursday and I nicked the Despot’s car when I pulled in. We had a little tussle.”

“David,” I said, genuinely concerned.

“Babe, you got bigger things to worry about. So tell me, what do you do for kicks in this here town?”

“Well, cowboy, it’s a real hoot. Sometimes my mother comes to bother me, sometimes I get to bathe.” I was tempted to tell him about the writing on the mirror, but I didn’t want him to think I was being weird. “There’s a police officer who visits. But I don’t think she likes me much because I can’t remember anything.”

“What
do
you remember?” he asked. His fingers went a little faster.

“I remember coming in and sitting on your lap—”

“I remember that too,” he said. Smiled. “You looked amazing in those little fairy wings. And that, what do you call that top you were wearing?”

“A tube top.”

“Yeah. Nice.” I felt his gaze move away from me, like he was picturing that. Picturing how I had looked.

Suddenly I was acutely aware of how different I looked now. Now I had bruises on my face, I couldn’t move. Everything was—wrong. Different. “Was that the last time you saw me at the party?”

That seemed to jar him back to the present. Behind his sunglasses his eyes crinkled and his mouth got firm the way it did when he got angry. “What are you getting at?”

His reaction surprised me. It was the way he acted when someone disagreed with him or questioned what he said. “I’m not getting at anything. I’m just trying to piece together what happened. The doctor says some of my paralysis might be mental, so the more I can recall, the faster I’ll be able to move.”

“Sounds like BS to me. Why
wouldn’t
you want to move?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe you could help me by helping me remember.”

His jaw loosened slightly. “Seriously? You don’t remember anything? You’re not jerking me around?”

“No.” I was relieved to see him relax slightly.

“Well, then I think the last time I saw you was when you abandoned me for the girls.” He pulled the hand he’d had wrapped around mine away. “Like you always do.”

My relief evaporated and I went totally cold inside.

Chapter 13

“
I don’t always abandon
you for my girls,” I insisted.

“Really? What about two weeks ago?”

What was going on? I had the sensation my world was slipping out from under me again. “We’ve been over that. You said you understood. You said you’d give me another chance.”

“Yeah,” he said, clenching and unclenching his hands, his body rigid. “Well, maybe I was wrong.”

Two weeks earlier David had the afternoon off from his job at the music store and we’d planned to hang out. During lunch Langley had been called to the principal’s office because her grandfather had been having trouble breathing. By last period she’d texted us to say that he was okay, but it seemed like she wasn’t. This was Langley, who prided herself on being independent and not needing anyone, but she sounded so shattered it was clear that she needed a dose of the three
S
s—shopping, Slurpees, and sisterhood. It’s what friends do.

I left David a message that I’d be late and then headed to the mall with the girls. I didn’t hear back from him, but while we were out, I made Kate and Langley stop to get his favorite cupcakes. In the past when we’d fought, I’d brought cupcakes for him as a peace gesture and it usually ended in me licking the frosting off of him.

When they dropped me at his house on the way home from the mall, no one answered the doorbell. His green Audi was in the driveway, and stepping back, I saw the curtain in his window move, so I knew he was home. I rang again. After a minute the intercom went.

“What?” he demanded. Not friendly. It was a good thing I’d splurged for the half-dozen cupcake pack.

“Um, it’s me, babe. I came by to say I’m sorry about today. And I brought you something.”

“I’m busy practicing,” he said, although I thought I heard music in the background.

My heart hammered. I hated his moods, his insecurities. I wanted him to understand how much I loved him. Why was it so hard sometimes? “It’s cupcakes.” My voice sounded meek.

“This just…isn’t going to work, Jane. It’s not that easy.” Yes, definitely music in the background. In fact, he was listening to the Doors, “Light My Fire,” the song we always made out to.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and I. Not like this.”

Was he breaking up with me over the intercom? I started to shake. “Can we at least talk? Face-to-face?”

“I don’t know.” A pause. “Fine, wait there.”