The Pace (17 page)

“Was I?”

I nodded, and he rolled his eyes, trying to shake the thought. That brought them to my attention.

“And your eyes?” I asked.

“What about them?”

“Why do they have that glassy film on them sometimes? Almost like a faint shine on a lake at night.”

He smiled. “You’re very observant,” he noted. “Well, apparently I’ve acquired transcendent eyesight also.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I can see
very
well.
All
the time.”

“Interesting. What about now?” I asked. It was relatively dark in my room, and I wanted to know how well he could see my expressions.

“If I wanted to I could read you a book right now.”

“Okay then. That’s pretty good,” I understated. “So what are you going to do now that you are like this?”

“Finish what Dr. Thomas started. I hope to make something good out of all of this.”

“How so?”

“Well, there is something in my blood that definitely has the ability to cure people, and right now my goal is to help doctors find it without having to go through what I have had to deal with. No one would truly want this if they knew what it was like, so I hope to be able to take some of what I have and incorporate it into a medicine that doesn’t alter people—just simply cures them. Labs that my uncle funded are close to a breakthrough. We have already found that proteins are great antibacterial fighting agents. Extracts have also been proven to help heal burns and other infections.”

“So why can’t people know about you then?”

“That’s a good question. You would think people would take what I have and use it for the greater good, but unfortunately, that’s not how the world works. We have encountered many different people looking for the missing pages to his journal, and many of them have bribed, stolen, extorted, and threatened my uncle. The people who want what I have are willing to kill for it, and I don’t trust them. I can’t trust anyone.”

“Then why did you trust me? Why tell me?”

He snickered. “Well, you made me jump into cold water, and the rest is history.”

I nudged him. “I didn’t
make
you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you do it.”

“Okay, but you didn’t have to tell me. You could have made up another reason.”

“That would be lying, and I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

I felt myself blush. “Why is that?” I asked.

“Because you saved me.”

“You said you weren’t going to die, remember? Sleeping, that’s what you called it,” I reminded him.

He raised an eyebrow in recognition. “True,” he admitted. “I wasn’t, but you saved me in other ways.”

I moved my pillow closer to him and nestled up against his chest. He naturally began stroking my hair, and I closed my eyes in complete peace. Given my nature, I was surprised that I wasn’t asking him a thousand other questions, but the truth was, I didn’t want to. It was clear to me that he was something special. I had thought so from the moment I met him, only I couldn’t figure out what it was. The truth was beyond my wildest imagination, but now that he’d told me, I could see it. I could see him being sick and dying. I could also see his mother begging for his life as if I were standing there pleading for it myself, and the fact that he was lying next to me brought me comfort no matter how impossible it was. I snuggled closer to him.

“I’m glad you came,” I murmured.

“Does this mean that you are okay with this?”

I thought for a moment and soaked in the feelings that were going through me. “It appears that way.” He stopped stroking my hair and I froze. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You don’t have to be okay with this. If you don’t want—”

“No, I want this. I don’t know what exactly
this
is, or why I don’t think you’re insane, but I believe you, and I like you, and that’s all that matters.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now if you don’t mind.” I pulled his hand back to my hair so he could continue. He chuckled and started softly rubbing my hair again.

After a few moments, a thought transpired. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“Why me?”

He pondered that question for a few moments, but he never ceased playing with my hair. “That is a question you will have to ask fate,” he concluded.

“Fate? You think it was fate that brought us together?”

“I know it is,” he replied.

It seemed as though I was missing part of a little secret. I can’t say that I fully believed in fate at the time, but I did like the idea of putting my crashing into him episode off on something other than my stupidity. I liked the idea of believing that I was meant to run into him. I liked the idea so much that I reveled in it until my eyes got so heavy, I involuntarily slipped into a peaceful slumber.

I don’t think I will forget a single moment of that night. It was the first time where there seemed to be no hesitation hovering in the air around either one of us. My nervousness with being near him had ceased, and any doubt I’d had of his feelings for me had faded away. The closeness between us was so right, and so natural, that there was no way for me to doubt it. I wanted him, and I was sure of it.

After that night, it became routine for Wes and me to spend time together every day. I accepted him for who he was and he, for whatever reason, wanted me, too. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t see him. During the week, he would come over and help me patiently with my homework. I knew he must have been bored, but he insisted that he got a kick out of watching me learn the material.

On occasion, I would ask him just to do it for me, but he kept saying I’d regret “compromising my integrity.” I think he was completely wrong in that. My integrity would’ve been just fine. That much I knew, but he didn’t seem to mind sitting with me while I did my work, and I found that I learned better with him there, so I couldn’t complain. Plus, he was an excellent tutor, and I even grew to like government, a little. Getting firsthand accounts from someone who had actually lived through several presidencies made learning about it
much
more interesting.

My favorite moments were of the times we spent together at night. He stayed with me almost every night, and it was during those hours that I came to know more about him. Each new piece of knowledge made me hungry for more. Everything he revealed about himself was central to his character and survival.

For one, I learned that his body temperature range needed to be between 70 and 90 degrees. He was most comfortable when it was in the middle of that range, and once his body temperature went above or below, he would start to have problems functioning physically and mentally, like what I had seen at the pier.

His losing consciousness was a sight I never wanted to repeat, and given that it was wintertime, I found myself always monitoring the heat or checking to make sure he was adequately bundled when going out. I was a complete nag who was getting on my own nerves with it, but he didn’t seem to mind, even though he was an expert on taking care of himself.

During one of our nights together, I also learned things about him that had to do with his mental and emotional survival. He opened up to me about how difficult some years had been for him. He said there was a period, after Dr. Thomas died, when he was so lonely and depressed that he couldn’t see himself living. He had no one he could trust and had given up trying. He mentioned the word suicide, and I cringed. I eventually asked him what had stopped him from doing it, and he said it was two things. The first was a promise he’d made to his uncle to make sure good came out of his existence, and the second was the hope of finding me. He told me he was convinced I’d come into his life, and if he had to live a solitary existence until the day he met me, then he would do it.

My heart turned to absolute mush. It’s not everyday that a girl is told by her boyfriend that he’d lived through forty years of solitude waiting for her to walk into his life. It made me feel wanted and needed. They were feelings I hoped would never go away, and I wanted to take the opportunity to tell him how I felt. It was simple: I
loved
him. Now, all I had to do was find the right time to say it, and I took a chance on the right time being then.

He had been lying on my bed with his body turned toward me, and I was nestled into his chest. Sometimes, it seemed like he was more open with me when I wasn’t watching his every expression and on that particular night, I gave him privacy as he talked about the difficulties of his past by burying my face in his chest. Having granted him the absence of my stare also made it easier for me to murmur those binding words to him. I cleared my throat and released the words, “I love you.”

Once I said them, I felt momentary stiffening in his muscles, as if he was surprised by my declaration. I braced for the rejection.

“You don’t know how good hearing those words makes me feel,” he whispered. His voice was reflective, but silence followed for several seconds. I waited as my pulse started picking up in concern for the lack of immediate reciprocation. I wondered if I had said it too soon. After moments that were probably shorter than I remembered, my trepidation was eased. He shifted himself lower so that his eyes were even with mine, and then he put my cheek in the palm of his hand.

“Sophie,” he affirmed. “I love you more than anything else in this entire world. You have no idea how much.”

Hearing him say those words solidified every sacrifice I had made by giving him a chance. Every ounce of sanity and rationality that I’d given up in order to trust and believe him was well worth the feeling I had at that moment. It all seemed so surreal that I wasn’t sure if any of it was actually happening.

“What is it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your face, I don’t recognize that look.”

I started thinking about my newfound fortune. “Well, I’m just thinking that this seems like a dream. It’s too good to be true.”

He chuckled. “Which part?”

“All of it, but especially the part about you loving me
.
Are you sure?” I asked.

“No.”

I was about to open my mouth to protest when he covered it with his finger. “Yes,” he said, chuckling. I giggled in return, but my chuckle was cut short when he placed his entire hand over my mouth. My eyes widened and then, super quickly, he just rolled off my bed without a sound. I was dumbfounded, until I heard her.

“Sophie?” my mom asked, knocking at my door. My mom
never
came up to my room, so I jumped up.

“Yes?”

She opened my door, which further shocked me.

“Mom? What is it? I was trying to sleep.”

She came and sat on the foot of my bed. I almost had a heart attack right then and there. I situated myself between her and my hidden guest, who was lying on the floor next to my bed.

“Well, I was up having a late-night snack, and I wanted to see if you were awake.”

“And….” I prodded.

“And I wanted to ask you something.”

“All right, what is it?”

“Well, you know Tom, right?”

“Of course, Mom, what is it?” I was losing my patience and getting hot under the collar with guilt.

“Well, he would like to spend Christmas together, with you and me.” She paused a moment. “What do you think about that?”

“I don’t know. Spend Christmas where?”

“He wants to come here.”

“I guess so,” I replied. “This is what you came up here to ask me?”

“Well, yes. We’ve always spent Christmas together, just me and you, and I’m not sure how I would feel inviting him. It’s been bothering me for days, but he really wants to.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to?”

She thought for a few minutes. “I’m just not sure if I’m as ready for family time like he is.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and I really didn’t want to have to come up with something. I just wanted her out of my room.

“Well, Mom, I’m sure it will be fine.” I stood up to hint that I was ready for her to exit. She took the bait. I walked her over to my door, plotting to lock it behind her once she left. As she reached the door, she paused and turned around. I stiffened.

“How are things with you and Wes?” she asked.

A lump built in my throat. I cleared the airway. “Fine,” I said, as casually as I could.

“Good,” she countered. “Maybe you can invite him to dinner, too. I would rather have another guest. You know, it will take the pressure off.”

“We’ll see.” I went to shut the door.

“Does he have somewhere else to go?” she asked, not satisfied with my lack of commitment.

“Um. I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s settled then. Invite him. It’ll be nice to have him.” She smiled and left the room, oblivious to the infringement. I shut the door and locked it for the first time since I’d moved in. Then, I let out a huge sigh.

“You can come out now,” I said, turning around. He was back on my bed before I reached it myself. He was grinning widely.

“I don’t know what you think is so funny,” I spat.

“Just listening to you squirm in your socks.”

“Not funny,” I grumbled. “She could have caught you here, and then I would’ve had to deal with her completely freaking out.”

“She wouldn’t have caught me.” He was so sure.

“Oh yeah, you might be able to hear well, but you can’t get invisible.”

He looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that?” he smirked.

I looked at him in horror. “You can not! Can you?”

“No silly.” He pulled me close to him and gave me a big, wet kiss right on my lips. I laughed and wiped my face with the back of my hand and kissed him again, neatly.

“So?” I whispered.

“So?” he countered, just as softly.

“Are you coming or what?”

“Coming where?” He feigned confusion.

I smacked him on his arm, which hurt my hand far more than his rock-hard bicep. “To Christmas!”

“Oh that,” he said, rolling over so I was pinned beneath him. “Only if you ask nicely.”

I tried to wriggle free. “My mom is the one that invited you, remember?”