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“Say something,” he said.
I chipped at my dark nail polish. I remember when I use to scrap off the polish with my teeth when I was nervous. I thought about doing that now.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“That you forgive me,” he suggested gently.
I looked up at him from my nails. His face was painted with sad emotion, along with red eyes from tears.
I felt my self shaking, the kind of feeling you get when you haven’t eaten in a long time and you start to think about eating a double cheese burger. I would love to forgive so that things could go back to how they were, but things had already changed.
We had changed.
I felt my eyes burn with tears poking behind my eyes like a thousand needles. I tried to hold it together for him and for the fact that I didn’t wear waterproof mascara today.
“Just tell me why you did it? I don't understand why? What did I do wrong?” I whispered so that my voice didn’t shake.
He put his arms around me and buried my face in his shoulder. “No…God no, Lee. Please don't blame yourself for this.”
The tears spilled over, unto his hospital gown. I clawed at it, trying to be closer.
“Shh,” he whispered in my ear, rubbing my back. “I’m okay.”
I shook my head. “They said you're sick.”
“I’m healthy as a horse,” he chuckled.
I was angry at him for trying to make me laugh.
Angry because I wanted to laugh.
I pulled away and saw black stains on his gown.
He took my hand and pulled me closer. His fingers weaved their way in my hair, his other hand was on my neck, his index finger on my pulse. And he kissed me, drowning out the sobs. Tears fell off my cheeks and carried black dye with them as they hit the floor.
My hands ran over his face, then to his arms. They reached his wrists.
I pulled away and took his wrists and killed the bandages. “Why do you want to die?” I asked him.
“It was too much,” he replied.
Only four words?
“No, I want a real explanation,” I said firmer, anger painting my voice.
“I don't want to talk about it,” he said sighing. He went to sit on the hospital bed.
I glared at him.
“You…you don't?” I hissed.
He looked down.
“Well then!” I yelled, “How about I go jump out a window because it’s ‘too much.’”
“LeAnna,” he sighed.
I walked out the door and then ran down the halls. I ran into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was a mess.
I would have to make sure to wear waterproof mascara if I was going to visit more.
I remember the time I sat on the porch. I smiled at what was going to happen when he opened the door to find me here, waiting for him.
And the picture of his surprise face made me laugh aloud.
I heard his footsteps behind the door.
And then it opened.
I looked up and grinned.
He stared at me, with that priceless expression on his face.
“What are you doing here, aren’t you suppose to be at Church?” He asked.
“You and I both know that’s not were I belong,” I said, mocking colored my voice, but not my heart.
And of course he saw it.
He kneeled down in front of me, and I pretended that he would propose.
“Where do you want to go then?” He asked.
I grinned mischievously, I could feel it across my cheeks. “The grave.”
His face fell in confusion.
I laughed, stood up, and grabbed his hand.
“Lee!” He yelled, trying to keep up.
“You are so slow for a boy,” I laughed, taunting.
We wove in and out of trees in the forest and then we came to the cemetery. The graves were covered by a blanket of leaves, a warmth given by fall.
I let go of his hand.
“You know, I feel more connected with God here, than in a Church,” I whispered, because we shouldn’t bother the dead.
“What are you talking about?” He said softly as well, only because I was scaring him, like I always did. He never could understand me, and I liked it that way.
“I’m saying the cemetery is more…holy,” I said, “I mean that’s were it happens.”
“Judgment. When you die, that’s when He decides if you go to Heaven.”
Jake took my hand now. “Are you scared of the church?”
“They’re so judgmental,” I whispered.
Jake put his arms around me. “He doesn’t think less of you,” he breathed, “How could He?”
I turned in his arms.
“You think I’ll go to Heaven when I die?” I asked.
Jake kissed my forehead. “You don't need to worry about death, you have a long time till you have to think about death.”
“Not really,” I said, “Jake, what if something happens to me, what if I get hit by a car or something.”
He chuckled. “I dare a car to hit you,” he growled.
I grinned. “You’ll protect me then?”
I glared at the mirror now. What if he had cut too deep and died? I wouldn’t have been there to protect him, like he promised he would protect me.
I took some paper towels out from the dispenser and cleaned my face. Then I took a deep breath and went back to his room.
He was laying on his side looking blankly at the wall. Then he saw me, and those green eyes lit up
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I was upset.”
“And you hid it so well,” he said smiling.