Chocolate Eyes and Warm Hands

Chocolate Eyes and Warm Hands... Part 9

* * * * *

I’d be lying to say Fiona and I became best friends from then on out. Yeah, we weren’t enemies anymore, and actually we had a pretty decent friendship, but there was one main problem (Y’know, besides popularity, money, and way too many other differences.): If two girls who were already best friends started fighting over one boy, then eventually got over the drama and all, they have a pretty easy place to restart from; to where the good things left off. When two girls who were total strangers started fighting over the same boy, once they get over the arguing, things are just… awkward. Especially when you have two girls like us. There was no way we became absolute BFFs like you see in the movies that completely forget their fight and become like sisters.

We got along. We talked, sometimes joked, and she finally put a stop to the rumors she started. And, thank God, she never told a soul about Anthony’s sickness. Also, one day she came up to me and said she was visiting Anthony with to confess her feelings and see how he’s doing. “I feel like I should actually tell him about my feelings, not just leave them unspoken and fade mostly.” She said. “I need to be rejected by him before I move on.”

I told her I liked the idea, except for the fact that that means admitting that I spilled the secret a bit. When we got to the hospital and she saw how thin and pale he was, she cried, though not quite as hard as in the bathroom with me. I left them alone and talked to Uncle Bart and Mom, then came back when Fiona left to go home. Anthony told me that she explained everything: how she was actually the mean girl who was gossiping about me, about how I told her about his leukemia, and how much of a crush she had on him since the third grade.

I couldn’t help but wonder how he replied. I knew it was none of my business, and I knew he rejected her, but how he responded still made me wonder: does he really like her too? Uncertainties like that made my stomach churn, no matter how foolish they were.

He must’ve read my mind, because he pulled me down to his head, and he whispered in my ear, “You know, I had a crush on her, too.”

This made my face flushed and I wanted to pull back, yet wanted to hear what else he had to say. He continued, “But that only lasted for a year or so in sixth grade, before I decided she was way out of my league. I got over her, and met you.” My blush deepened. “So I smiled and thanked her, but told her someone else held the number one spot in my heart. She said that that girl is very lucky to have such sweet boy like me.” There he raised his eyebrows expectantly, with his eyes saying She’s right. You better be pretty thankful you have such a fantastic boy like me at your side. When I tried to pull back again from his huge ego, he said, “…and she also said that I have a pretty nice girl of my own, and I need to treat her right. What do you think of that?”

Suddenly, I felt his warm hand around my neck, pulling me even closer to him than before, and suddenly, he kissed me, the girl crouched over his hospital bed. At first, my eyes were open wide with surprise, but there was no way I could pull back. The longer our lips touched, the more I melted into him. I closed my eyes, until we pulled back. The first thing I saw was the playful gleam in his brown eyes. It wasn’t actually that long of a kiss, but at the time, boy, it felt like forever. (As I go through my story, this is usually the part where I swoon and faint.) We went in to do it again, and this surely renewed our love and strength, something we both need in this battle.

Now, technically speaking, the magic with Anthony was not my “first kiss”. My real first kiss was with Robbie McMagan in 2nd grade. However, my real first kiss was definitely with Anthony. I enjoyed it so much more than with Robbie, it isn’t even funny. You see, Robbie had just eaten a tuna fish sandwich and a pickle for lunch, so it wasn’t even an enjoyable kiss, not to mention we were both the worst kissers on the planet at the time, and in comparison with Anthony’s kiss… there’s no contest. Zippo. Nada.

I came out of the hospital all in a daze, like when we first danced in the garden. My yearning to be with him became worse with every day, but every day I was constantly reminded of how weak he was becoming. Sometimes it made him wince just to turn his head, or lift his arm. By this time, he was a full baldy. I missed his fluffy blonde hair, but I knew beggars couldn’t be choosers. Sometimes, when he would fall asleep, I would just stroke his cheek and cry silently, so not to wake him up. He had been napping a lot lately.

Dr. Watson told me that this was the worst of it, and the chemo was making progress. He would say that soon, the tables would turn and I would see the healing, not the weakening. The problem was, “Soon” never wanted to come. Some nights Mom would just hold me with some warm milk and honey and we’d watch some movies, mostly comedy. That was the great thing about Mom; she knew much more about me than I ever thought. She knew that no matter how bad of a mood I was in, people like Steve Carrel and Robin Williams could make me laugh like a giddy child. I think she, Bart, and Anthony were the only ones that kept me from losing sanity sometimes.

* * * * *