Ruin .(49)
“Here, sir.” Melda came around the corner, demure as ever. She was Ronald’s wife, also late in her years, but the best cook in the known universe.
“Melda here…” Dad gestured and then directed his attention back to Kiersten, “…will be sure to get you anything you desire. Hot chocolate? Coffee?”
“Coffee.” Kiersten nodded. “Never hot chocolate.”
“Son,” Dad called back to me. “Find me one about twenty five years older and we’ll talk.”
Kiersten frowned in confusion. “One?”
“A beautiful lady such as yourself.” Dad released her hand, kissed it again, and nodded in my direction. “I think I’ll stop hogging you, and allow my son to give you the grand tour. I’ll get the drinks.”
“Thank you.” Kiersten grinned warmly.
Dad smiled warmly in our direction and walked off.
“I love him,” Kiersten said once he was out of earshot.
“So does the rest of the world.” I chuckled.
“No…” Kiersten put her hand on my arm. “He’s amazing. You’re so lucky to have him. Really. I would do anything to… well, you already know that. You’re just lucky.”
Not really. I mean yes I was damned lucky to have an awesome dad. I was even more lucky that my dad was loaded enough to get me the best drugs, but lucky? I didn’t feel lucky. Not when I was giving Kiersten her first and last tour of my house. I knew how girls worked; the little wheels in her head would be turning ‘round and ‘round, imagining Christmases, birthdays, all normal celebrations. Hell, even New Year’s.
I hadn’t told anyone yet, but when I thought about 2014… When I thought about New Year’s, I couldn’t actually picture myself here. It was as if I was a shadow, no longer existing, but watching from a distance.
The sad part was the minute I watched Kiersten and my dad, I could see her years from now, still charming parents, possibly meeting her future in-laws, and it killed me inside. It actually made me think I was having another bout of nausea from my drugs, but it was all self-inflicted, because again I was reminded of what I would be missing. And it wasn’t the silly things like playing football or getting a bowl game this year.
It was her.
And that made me want to fight even more. Just like Gabe said. I could do this. I could beat it. I’d sure as hell try. In the past, fighting for football or for school had never been a huge pull for me.
But beating this for her?
Yeah. I’d fight demons for her. I’d fight the darkness in me, the sickness. I’d fight that damn tumor. And I’d live. Because I sure as hell wanted a 2014 with that girl in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Words aren’t really coming at this point. I mean I knew he was basically a billionaire but…everything seems so normal so wonderful. I feel like I’m waiting for the ball to drop. Why do I keep feeling that way?
Kiersten
Overwhelmed didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. I had my own bathroom, with a rain shower, heated tile, a heated towel rack, a flat screen TV. I mean seriously, I could go on and on. I even Facetimed Uncle Jo so he could see everything.
He gasped like I knew he would. Pretty soon I had Uncle Jo, my aunt, and their two dogs, all gaping at the iPhone screen as I slowly did a panoramic shot of the bathroom. Wow, how lame, I was actually taking pictures of someone else’s bathroom like a complete and total stalker.
“Can I move there?” Uncle Jo asked. Aunt San swatted him across the chest while he chuckled and asked again. The dogs barked. I missed them. Before I knew it, I started to get emotional. What had I been thinking these past two years? Locking myself in my room to grieve when I had a family waiting outside the whole time.
“You okay?” Uncle Jo asked when I took him off Facetime and pressed the phone to my ear.
“Yeah.” I sighed. “Just really thankful for you guys. I love you.”
“We love you too, kiddo. Now, get off the phone and take lots of pictures so I can live through you, okay?”
“Deal.” I laughed and said goodbye, hanging up the phone and walking around my giant bedroom. It had a deck that overlooked the Puget Sound. It was also bigger than five of my rooms back home. It had a large over-stuffed bed, and I’m pretty sure if I snapped my fingers an iPod would turn on.