True Love (45 page)

Later, Dad and Jesse went swimming off the boat and I went below and took a snooze. (Will I ever feel 100 percent again?) We headed home right before sunset. Jesse and I sat on the bow of the boat and watched as it cut through the water like a knife. He slipped his hand over mine and it was like we were in perfect sync with each other, like we had one heart beating between us
.

When we got home, Dad made ice cream and Jesse and I watched the fireflies come out. He said, “You want me to catch some in a jar for you?”

I said, “Sure.”

And he said, “Did you know that scientists pay for these bugs? I catch them out where I live and stick them in the freezer. When I’ve got a bagful, I take them into the science department at the university and they pay me thirty-one cents a gram for them—nine dollars an ounce.”

“They don’t look like they weigh much,” I said
.

“It’s a way to earn money,” he said. “And I’m helping a scientific cause.”

As usual, Jesse’s knowledge surprised me, so I urged him to catch a hundred fireflies and stick them in our freezer, but when he brought the jar to me and I saw the flies trapped inside, their little lighted bodies going dim, I started to cry
.

“What’s wrong?” he said
.

“It’s sad,” I said. “They don’t hurt anyone. They’re so gentle. And now scientists are going to experiment on them.”

Jesse said, “They’re insects. They have no nerve endings or higher brains.”

I kept crying and said, “I don’t care. It just doesn’t seem fair that they should die.”

Jesse said, “They don’t have to die.” Then he unscrewed the lid and let them all go
.

I felt stupid because I’d made him throw away spending money. I said, “I’m sorry.”

And he said, “I promise I will never catch fireflies again, because they should never be held against their will, or frozen and dissected, even if it is for the good of science.”

I wondered if he was poking fun at me for being so silly about an insect, but when I looked into his beautiful blue eyes, I saw that he was serious. He’d held the power of life and death over them but had released them, allowing them to live on, to please me. And while we watched them fly off into the night, I got the feeling that we weren’t really talking about fireflies at all, but about mercy and kindness and doing something nice just because you can
.

September 7 (one of the worst and BEST days ever!)

We took Jesse to the airport today at noon. When we came home, I locked myself in my room and had a good cry. I’m going to miss him so much! I already feel like there’s a big hole inside me because he’s gone. I think he might like me too. (I hope.)

Here’s exactly what happened. Mom dropped us off and went to park the car so that Jesse could check in. We waited in line together, and after Jesse checked in, we hung around the terminal, because
we both knew that once he went through the metal detectors it was really goodbye. (Mom had told me she’d park and come inside to look for me at the check-in counters.) Jesse held my hand and I tried to act cheerful and not to cry even though there was a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball
.

He said, “I really had a good time.”

I said, “Me too. Thanks for coming.”

He said, “Can I come again someday?”

I said, “Will you? Maybe next summer. You think?”

He said, “Maybe.”

A tear trickled down my cheek and he wiped it off. He said, “I’ll e-mail and write. You too?”

All I could do was nod, because I didn’t want to bawl like a baby
.

He headed toward security to wait in line and pass through. The line was moving slowly, but not too slow for me, because I didn’t want him to leave. He was almost at the front of the line when he turned and hurried back to me. I stared, wondering what was going on. He said, “I forgot something.”

“What?” I asked
.

Then he grabbed me and kissed me right on the mouth! Before I could react, he turned and raced back to security, threw his backpack on the conveyor belt, and went through the detectors without
setting off any alarms. Except for the one inside my heart. It was ringing like crazy. Everyone around us was watching, and I know I must have turned twenty shades of red. Here I was, standing in Hartsfield Airport with hundreds of people heading off to their flights, and I, Melinda Skye, fourteen for only a week, had experienced my first real kiss in front of God and everybody
.

Today, Jesse kissed me, fast and hard, and it felt wonderful. Best of all, he meant it with all his heart. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Bailey. Tonight, it belongs to just me
.

M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY

Friday the 13th

Chemo sucks. It took an hour and it hurt. The only thing that saved the day was visiting my old floor and saying hi to the kids. Keisha has gone home. But I saw three new faces of kids who’ve checked in since I left
.

Cancer sucks too. Especially when it picks on little kids. I’m tired now and don’t feel much like writing
.

TO:
All Concerned

Subject:
Outpatient Chemo Begins

This has been a hard week for our little girl. Her friend Jesse Rose returned to California, she started homebound schooling, and her outpatient chemo treatments began. The protocols are two weeks on (three days a week) and one week off, for the next three months. Once chemo is over, she’ll be tested frequently over the next six months and if she remains cancer-free, she’ll return for semiannual checkups over the next few years. If the drugs do their part, she should be
out of the woods in five years (by the time she’s eighteen and heading off to college, this whole ordeal should just be a really bad memory).

I told her I’ll take her to Paris to celebrate when her chemo treatments are over. She said, “Dad, save your money … I’m going with a dance troupe.” What a girl! She never forgets her dreams and goals. Elana and I are so proud of her. Elana has dropped all her outside activities, except tennis, which she says she needs to “vent” and blow off stress. I use golf for the same purpose.

Thanks again for all your concerns. I’ll only post if there’s something meaningful to say.

Lenny and Elana

M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY

September 20

Jesse wrote to say he really liked the B-day gift I sent (it’s getting harder to think up good things to give him anymore—hey, maybe I’ll mail him ME!). I keep thinking about him kissing me. I wish it could
have been in private, because now I wonder if he did it just to say thanks for the good time, or if he meant it from his heart. I finally told Bailey how it happened and she said it was “really romantic,” because he was almost through security and had to make a special effort to come back to kiss me. I tried to play it down because I know she’s been kissed lots of times. And me? Well, who wants to kiss a girl with cancer except for a best friend, like Jesse? (Who may just feel sorry for me.)

He says he wants to come visit again next summer. I’d like that, IF I’m looking like my regular self and IF I don’t have an invitation to dance school again
.

Homebound school isn’t too bad. I get the work done easily, but I miss going to school. I miss seeing friends in the halls, the smell of chalk dust and, yes, even the cafeteria food. Bailey (the nut!) took a video camera to school and made a tape for me she calls “A Day in the Life of …” She had that camera running all day. She interviewed our friends, teachers, even the principal. Everyone says they miss me and want me to hurry back. Some of the guys on the soccer team sing to me. Very cute (and very bad singers). I’ve watched it sooo many times. It makes me laugh. But it also makes me cry because I can’t be there
.

Elana’s Journal

September 25

Now that life has settled more into a routine, I can be reflective of the past few months. What can I say? For so long, I was in “emergency mode”—sheer panic over what was happening to Melinda. Now I feel as if we’re treading water. Our lives revolve around her chemo treatments and their aftermath. Some days she’s too sick to even sit up. Others, she endures the treatment just fine. There’s no predicting. As it drags on and I watch her push hersel
f, I
want to insist that she rest and take it easier. But it makes her angry if I meddle. It’s dance that drives her
.

Last week, we got caught in traffic and she became tense because she knew she was going to be late for class. (An unpardonable sin most of the time although Mrs. Houston has given Melinda great leeway with the studio “rules.”) still, Melinda holds herself to a high standard and refuses to “cave,” as she calls it, to bend or break studio protocols. In short, she won’t allow herself any special privileges no matter what
.

Anyway, we got caught in traffic after chemo and by the time I pulled into the parking lot, she was extremely upset. She opened the car door and discreetly vomited. It broke my heart to see her heaving, knowing I could do nothing to help her. When she was finished, she dug out a bottle of mouthwash she keeps in her dance duffel bag and rinsed her mouth, took a few deep breaths and got out of the car. I said, “Honey, do you have to go?”

And she said, “Yes, I have to go.”

I watched her toss her gear bag over her shoulder and march into the studio. I cried … for her, for my helplessness, for all the things I can’t change
.

M
ELINDA’S
D
IARY

October 4

Mrs. Houston reminded us that Natalie Blackbird will arrive next week with some of the Denver dancers to begin rehearsals and to lead our advance class. So now I have a goal. Be in competitive shape for the experience AND get picked for a role in this season’s
Nutcracker.
And boy, do I ever have a long way to go
.