Falling to Pieces

I wasn’t really listening to the pastor. I couldn’t. I was still thinking about the wedding that was going to happen at the end of the week. We were cutting everything close.
I looked up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at the pastor, or the audience, or even Joel.
I didn’t want them to see my expression.
And then the pastor pushed me into the water. And I couldn’t explain the feeling, and by the time I almost had the words, it was over.
I still looked at the ceiling, hearing people clapping.
The townspeople were glad I moved back. LeAnn, our neighbor, was the happiest, she’s a great chief. We had lunch over there today; she was making buffalo Chicken wraps.
“So you promise to make the cake?” I asked.
She grinned. “It’s already done. I wasn’t going to let you pay to have some crap cake for your wedding.”
I laughed and looked at Joel, who was looking at the table.
“Joel?”
“Mm?” He asked, looking up.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
He smiled and took my left hand.
I turned back and began talking to LeAnn about the latest town gossip and what I had missed. I notice every once in awhile, Joel would mess with the ring that was on my finger.
When we got home I went upstairs and closed my eyes.
“Joel?” I asked, “Can you get some ice, my forehead is hot…”
I heard Joel get up. Fevers got worse over the days, and I got them a lot more these. I close my eyes.
I felt Joel sit on the side of my bed.
“Rose?” He asked after awhile.
He placed his hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
I would have settled for his cold hand but the ice felt better.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No, Joel,” I begged, “Please, not yet.”
“Then tell me what to do,” he begged.
“Stay with me,” I said.
Joel took a hold of my hand. “I’m here.”
Time seemed to pass very quickly, and I wondered for a moment if I had just died. I could feel that it was late; my eyes felt like they were incapable of opening, my legs were stiff. If this was how it was to die, I’d take it.
“Rose? Are you awake?”
I was so comfortable, almost content.
“Rosella?”
I squeezed his hand.
“It’s okay,” I managed to say.
My eyes opened with a sandpapery feeling. He was still on the edge of my bed, with my hand in his. In the back ground we had “Lifehouse” playing.
I smiled and then remembered something I wanted to do.
“Joel?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Yes?”
I tried to sit up, but he just pushed me back down. I frowned.
“You need to relax,” he said.
“Will you take care of my books?”
“Literature,” I said.
He paused.
“What?”
I looked back at him. “I like literature.”
“Rose?”
“I love this song!”
“Is there a song you don't love?” He asked
“And my CDs?”
“Hey, what?”
“And soon I started coming up with these fantasy ideas that were obviously not really important, but they fascinated me so much that I couldn’t ignore it. I began to write fantasy worlds that I eventually found myself escaping to when bad things happened”
“And my writing, please?”
“Rose please!”
“I just don’t want them to be thrown out when I, well you know.”
I shifted my eyes to Joel. He was shaking his head.
“No, not yet.”
I looked at him helpless.
“Don’t say goodbye yet.”
“But will you?” I begged.
“I’ll take them,” he said with a reassuring smile, “Yes.”
I shook my head, it made me dizzy. “That’s not what I meant.”
He waited confused.
“Will you say goodbye in the end?” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand.
“If you want me to,” he breathed.
I nodded and then closed my eyes because I couldn’t stay awake any longer.
* * * * *
Joel sat on my bed with his ink pen. He had my long sleeves pulled up and was drawing an abstract design on the right arm.
I loved it when he drew on my skin, it was like he was stitching us together. I closed my eyes as I felt the pen move across my bruising skin. I hated how I looked in the mirror now. I had Joel remove all the mirrors from the house; I couldn’t stand to see death in the mirror. It scared me.
I look like a pile of bones. I have lost so much weight. I don’t have those curves that girls run miles and skip the extra cheese on their pizza to lose. I wish I was normal. I wish I had curves so that my t-shirts did not swallow me. I wish that I didn’t have so many bruises so that I could wear short sleeves without feeling self conscious.
Joel looked up at me then. “What is it?” He asked gently.
I put on a fake smile. “Nothing.”
He gave me a doubtful look, but then went back to work on his art. After a few moments I feel his lips on my skin, causing me to jump at the shivers that go down my spine. I look at him, but his eyes are fixed on the little bit of skin that is revealed. His lips trace up the inked lines on my arms until they reach my shoulder.
Then he looks at me. My heart thumps as his hands slide down my sides and take a hold of the hem of my shirt; I can feel his knuckles brush against the soft skin of my stomach.
He slowly lifts my shirt, but pauses to make sure that this is okay. I don’t say anything, so he pulls my shirt over my head.
The way he’s looking at me has me confused. No boy has ever looked at me like that. I couldn’t imagine any boy looking at me the way Joel is looking at me while I was healthy, much less now when I’m so hideous.
He brushes his lips across my very pronounced collar bone, and I close my eyes. My hands find their way under his shirt too. I hear the smooth movement of fabric and then the sound of his shirt falling to the floor. I open my eyes and marvel at the sight of the scars on his chest. I run my hands over them.
“From when I was bit,” He whispers.
I never knew imperfection could be so beautiful. And for a split second I wonder if that’s how he thinks of me. But the thought evaporates when his lips find mine.
More and more clothing fall to the ground until there was nothing to separate us.
He looks at me again, his icy eyes burning into mine. “Rose, are you sure?”
I kiss him, hoping he gets his answer.
He smiles slightly. “But not because we don’t have time. We don’t need to rush this,” he murmurs against my lips.
I kiss him again. “No, because I want you.”
He kisses each of my bruises. His hands roam over the bones that stick out of my papery skin. He holds me so tightly I feel like I’ll become him. And neither one of us say anything for a long time.
He has his pen again, only he’s drawing gently on my bare back. My eyes threaten to close, but I don’t want them to end such a wonderful night.
Joel kisses my shoulder blade. “Sleep, Rose. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
“Promise…” I whisper.
He places a few more kisses along my back. “I promise, love.”
But I don’t think he understands, I’m not scared of him not being here when I wake up. I’m scared of not waking up.