Part 39 (1/2)
”You going to your room?”
”Yeah.”
”I'll come,” he says, smirking, trailing behind me up the stairs.
Luckily I'm in front of him, so he doesn't see me blus.h.i.+ng.
I enter my room and go straight to my closet. I hear Ben plop down on my bed.
”Nice room. Coral's a pretty color.”
I turn around to look at him.
”You look good in it.”
I want to play it cool, but my flush face may give me away. I try anyway. ”Falco, are you coming on to me?” I'm half joking. Of course he's coming on to me, but I'm nervous at the moment.
He stands from my bed, comes toward me, places his hands on my waist, and pulls me forward, where he sits on the edge of the bed again. Next thing I know, I'm sideways, sitting on his lap.
He says nothing when he slides one hand up my back and the other down to my right thigh, his eyes intent as they penetrate mine.
”I don't want to put our relations.h.i.+p on hold, Rose,” he says after several moments of intense eye contact. ”We got enough bad things to think about...You are the only good in my life right now. Ever since I found out about my cancer and then Johnny, I've been drowning...in the dark...and you...you're like the lighthouse s.h.i.+ning on the sh.o.r.e. And I just need to get to sh.o.r.e. Don't let me drown, Rose.” His eyes close. I think he's trying to keep from crying.
I bring my hand to his face and run a thumb across his cheek. ”I won't let you drown, Ben.”
His eyes squeeze tighter before he opens them. ”So you'll be my girlfriend? Now? No waiting to get past all this?”
I shake my head. ”No waiting. I want to go through this with you.”
Both his arms wrap around me, and he squeezes me so hard it feels like all the b.u.t.terflies in my stomach are going to pop right out and flutter around us.
”I love you, Rose Duncan,” he says over my shoulder.
”I love you too, Falco,” I say into his neck.
This time, I break the embrace first. And when I look at him, he's trying to blink away tears. ”It's okay to cry, you know. Kids with cancer are allowed to cry.”
He smiles despite the tears. ”Who you calling a kid? Just 'cause you're, what? A year, not even, older than me?”
”You're just a baby, Falco.”
”I'll show you who's a baby, Duncan.”
He flips me onto the bed and starts tickling me around my waist. On my stomach. Under the armpits. I'm thras.h.i.+ng so much that my legs and feet are flailing about, and without realizing, I kick Ben behind the leg with my prosthetic heel.
”Ow,” he mutters unintentionally, and I know he didn't mean to utter it out loud. ”I mean ooh, girl, you're...” He fails at finis.h.i.+ng his sentence.
”I'm so sorry,” I say, scooting out from underneath him.
”No, Rose, stop. It didn't hurt, I was just...”
”Was it your bad leg? I'm so sorry.”
”No, no. It wasn't. It was the other one.” He laughs. ”Really. I was teasing.” He drops the smile, sits up, and pulls me next to him. Then he lifts my bad leg and lays it over his lap. ”Can I see it?”
I cringe.
His hand slides over my legging-covered artificial limb. ”When you're ready.”
”Promise you won't get grossed out?”
”You're asking for promises now? I thought you didn't believe in making promises.” He's laughing, and I know he's joking, but he's right. Promises suck.
”I meant to say, please don't get grossed out.”
”Sure, sure,” he teases. ”Seriously though, nothing that is a part of you could ever gross me out. But if you're not ready, I understand.”
I don't know. Maybe I am ready. It would certainly be better for him to see me little bits at a time than all at once. So I slowly start rolling up the hem of my leggings.
As I do, his fingertips follow, lightly grazing the hard plastic and stopping where my knee is inserted. ”Does it still hurt?” he asks, circling my knee.
”Sometimes.”
”Do you still get...phantom pain? I read about that.”
”Yes, actually. Not as frequently as I did in the beginning, but...I don't let anyone know. I think they'd think I was crazy. After all these months, I still think my leg is there.”
”That's not crazy at all. I read it's normal.”
”After eight months?”
He shrugs. ”I read it can last for some for years.”
”G.o.d, I hope not.”
”It's winter. Maybe the cold bothers it.”
”Maybe. In the middle of the night or early in the morning, sometimes I feel like it's being crushed, but usually it's 'cause I'm dreaming about the accident all over again.”
”So you remember the accident?”
I've never talked about this with anyone. Even in counseling. So I'm a little apprehensive now, but I think I want to talk about it with Ben.
”I'm sorry, Rose,” he says, taking my silence for ignoring the question. ”You don't have to answer.”
”I don't remember anything. Except that I'd just left my friend Jordan and was going to...” My chest starts hurting and my breathing picks up.
Ben pulls me close and kisses my temple. ”Rose, stop. You don't have to.”
”I was going to practice. I was one of the background dancers for Truckin'...It was a new Broadway show.”