Date: Tue, 12 Jun 2012 14:00:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joey Young <untitledlovestory23@yahoo.com>
Subject: Untitled Love Story, Chapter 24

Usual Disclaimers Apply

Author's Note: I know I say this every time I release a new chapter.
Hahahaha. But I truly mean it every time. I'm sorry for the delay in
chapters, but it's getting harder and harder for me to write the story when
it's getting so close to the end. And too have Caleb go down a certain path
is hard to write. So for that I'm sorry, but please don't be discouraged at
the lack of chapters, because I am writing. And I will finish this story.
And there is still a handful of chapters ahead. So please bear with me.

As always I send my thanks to you fans and your continued support. And also
to my amazing editor Lisa Blackburn, who has stuck with me since the first
few chapters. Hope you enjoy the newest chapter; it may upset a few of you.
So, let me apologize in advance. Enjoy.

-Joey Young

Untitled Love Story
Chapter 24

"Caleb, honey."

The voice was soft and warm, full of love and sweet memories of times gone
by. A gentle hand brushed my face. My mom's soft voice awoke me, where
bright light finished the job. I groaned groggily and felt around the bed,
looking for him. The bed was empty. I bolted upward and looked to my
mom. Her eyes widened at my sudden change in demeanor.

"Caleb, sweetheart," she continued, her voice a soft melody. "Is everything
alright?"

I blinked rapidly, the events of last night slowly leaking into my
consciousness. I surfaced from my sleep, still blinking from the pale
yellow light of morning. I swallowed roughly and noticed for the first time
that I was fully naked. He had left late last night, in a hurry to get my
presence away from him. The thought of his revulsion tightened my heart,
quickening its pace,instilling fear. Would this be the last straw?

"We had a fight," I whispered, knowing full well what she was
thinking. "Over the usual stuff. He left last night. . . .after."

Her hand fluttered to my wrist.

"They're becoming more frequent, honey," she sighed. "Is there something
you're not telling me? . . . . Is it the wedding?"

I looked up in shock, "No. No of course not. It's just-just something I
did. . . ."

"Oh, Cale."

I whimpered.

"Mom, I did something bad. . . . But. . . . it didn't feel bad. . . . Not
to me."

Her eyes softened immensely and her face took on that all-knowing look.

"You didn't," she breathed, her brows burrowed. "Cale, I told you to choose
a long time ago. And you didn't, didn't you?"

I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes. I didn't want to choose. I
wanted them both, forever and always. But I knew deep down that it was
selfish of me to ask that much of them. They couldn't both co-exist in my
life, not when they had different intentions for me. Not when I strung them
along like I did. It

was all my fault.

"I couldn't," I breathed, taking a moment to steady myself. "I didn't want
to hurt either one of them. Not after what I put them through. But I
also. . . I also . . .I didn't want to hurt myself."

The last statement was just a murmur, something I should've kept to
myself. But it had escaped, much like everything else in my life. A wisp of
my sub consciousness out in the world.

"Ahhh," she breathed, her hands resting in her lap. "You don't want to get
hurt?"

I flicked my eyes skyward, trying to keep them from crying.

"Does that make me selfish?"

"No, honey," she replied. "Of course not. You're just looking out for
what's best for your heart. And I'm pretty sure both those boys are doing
the same thing."

My eyes moved down to look at her.

"But they both want very different things."

"I know, I know. . . . Just answer me this. . . ." I stared at her in
earnest. "What do you want? . . . . What makes you happy? Cuz, I could care
less who you choose, as long as you're happy. . . .Although I may have
already chosen a side."

I smiled faintly, already knowing who she was vying for.

"I don't know what I want," I answered. "My heart tells me one thing, but
my head tells me another."

She remained quiet for the length of a heartbeat. I stared up at her
waiting, knowing she had something to add.

She inhaled sharply, "With my experience, I have always chosen to follow my
heart. . . .Your father for example. He was diagnosed very young, much like
you. Early twenties I suppose. I was in nursing school, we had just started
dating. . . . But I knew. I knew I loved him."

She glanced at her hands, twirling them in a slow motion.

"My head however, was much like yours telling me it wouldn't work. That I
would only get hurt in the end. His case was much more severe than
yours. Doctors told me to prepare for the worse, but I didn't
listen. . . .I followed my heart. Like I said, I knew I loved him. More
than the fear of losing him. More than the pain of getting hurt."

She looked at me then.

"Certain people didn't approve. Your grandfather, my father. Told me I was
wasting my talent. You see, he had a position open for me in
Seattle. Wanted me to become a scrub nurse, to become more than what I was
destined for here in Taylor. But I chose your father. I chose this life and
I haven't regretted it

since."

She lightly combed my floppy hair back.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to tell you now is, to follow your
heart. Don't listen to anyone's opinion, especially mine. Just do whatever
makes you happy and I promise I will fully support it."

I smiled faintly, my lips quivering with the gesture. Very softly I placed
my hands in hers, sliding them between her warm palms. She squeezed them
lightly.

"Forever and always?" I asked.

My eyes roamed her face.

"Yes, forever and always," she smiled.

I laughed, "Thanks mom."

"Of course honey. I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me." she
paused. "I hated the distance this wedding and cancer put between us. Even
now."

I nodded slightly, before a question formed in my head.

". . . . Hey, is grandpa still alive? I mean does he still keep in
contact?"

Her eyes hardened slightly.

"No, honey," she answered. "No, he doesn't have a daughter anymore."



				~*~



I twirled my silver locket on its chain, watching it spin in the light. It
spun and caught the many rays of sunlight filtering in through the high
paned windows, creating a pristine disco ball of diffused light. I sighed
delicately, hoping an answer would appear or that Dante would at least
return my calls. However

neither of the two happened. Instead I sat in a plush leather chair, facing
the guidance counselor for our fifth session.

"How are you feeling today, Caleb?" Mrs. Burgess asked, her pen scribbling
away.

"I'm fine, actually," I lied, with a smile. "Today was a good day."

"Oh," she breathed as she rested a hand beneath her chin. "How so?"

I continued to smile as I watched her bronze hair glisten in the light from
the window. Students passed by on their way to class, oblivious to my
situation here in this small room. I popped my knuckles unintentionally and
sighed heavily. The mandatory glass of water, which was always left
untouched, sat atop her large oak desk. It perspired clear beads of water
onto the dark surface, making me wish there was a coaster to place under
it.

"It's just one of those days for me," I replied as I slid my locket back
into my shirt. "No dizziness, nausea, or symptoms of any kind. The wedding
is in full swing. My mom and Dante's mom are busy planning the ceremony and
I couldn't be happier. And prom is this week, did you know that?"

She chuckled lightly, "Yes, I've noticed. Very ostentatious, those
posters."

I laughed. I understood what she meant. The prom posters were large,
glittery displays of electrical proportions. Like a billboard sign, one in
every hallway. All announcing the inevitable dance.

"Student council," I stated, and she nodded.

"What else?" she pressed.

"Well, Dante got his first wave of acceptance letters," I continued as I
stared at my hands, hoping to keep my voice from breaking. "But he still
has his heart set on attending Berkeley."

"What about you?" she asked. "Any acceptance letters?"

I didn't look up, "None."

"And how does this make you feel?" I didn't answer immediately. Instead I
remained silent. After a full minute of awkward silence she spoke. "Caleb?"

"Tucson," I blurted.

"Excuse me?"

"Tucson," I repeated. "That's where I want to be. I don't know, why,
especially now when it's extremely hot down there. But that's where I'd
rather be right now. In Tucson. Isn't that strange?"

I could hear the scribble of her pen as I spoke aloud, like the spinning of
a hamster's wheel.

"So, Dante is planning to move to Berkeley in the fall?"

I looked up, "Who said that?"

"I just assumed."

"Oh. Well, I suppose. . . .We've never actually talked about college."

"I see. And your friends?"

"Berkeley, too."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Indifferent, I suppose. I mean I knew this would all be happening,
soon. But I always thought that this year was my last. So. . . ."

"So you never made plans."

I nodded. She just sighed empathetically and placed her hands on her lap.

"What does Dante think of this?"

I laughed, "He believes I'm getting better. That I'll want to move with him
to Berkeley and start a life there."

I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater at the thought of Dante. Would he
still want me to move with him? Would I still be a part of that future? Did
I even want to be a part of it?

"And do you?"

"I would love too. I always have. But I just hold a few reservations, when
it comes to his future."

"And those are?"

"Just that I may hold him back a bit."

Her eyes softened to a warm green.

"I see," she breathed and placed her pen down. "And have you told Dante
this?"

I shook my head, "With Dante I feel it's always best to tread lightly."

"What makes you feel like a hindrance to him?"

"My sickness, mostly," I replied. "And myself obviously. I just feel like
he deserves more, you know?"

She picked up her pen and scribbled something down.

"And Drew?" Like a sharp pain his name pierced my heart. "How does he
figure into these feelings?"

"Dante is to inherit the family business, someday," I responded, hoping to
avoid the topic of Drew. "His father told me as much a few weeks ago. It
was right after my accident. I'm sure he wasn't trying to hurt my feelings
or make me feel guilty. But it did."

"Mmm-hmm."

"He is to move back to Italy, eventually. When he's done with school and
such. His father has high hopes for him and so do I." I wiped away a free
tear and stared at the ceiling. "So when I say I'm holding him back, it's
not something I take lightly."

She was silent.

"I honestly believe that one day he'll regret marrying me. That one day my
sickness will consume his future too and all it will leave behind is its
destruction. I have a tendency of doing that, you know. It's my gift and my
curse."

I laughed without humor.

"I fear the worst for the people I love, especially Dante. He has so much
potential, it's almost perfection." I gradually moved my gaze to hers. "And
today I had none of those feelings, until I came here. Today was a good
day, until. . . .well, you know."

"Let's talk about Drew, shall we?"

I sighed. Drew. She knew how to kick me while I was down.

"Have you seen him lately?"

I chuckled, "Funny you should mention that. I saw him after our last
session."

Immediately a flood of memories came back to me. His strong capable fingers
grappling with my skin. His rough almost animalistic kisses that seemed to
shake my core. And his eyes. The vivid blue that you only saw in sapphire
stones or paintings of Greek gods.

"And?"

"We didn't say anything," I lied. "We merely acknowledged each other."

"That was it?" she asked.

"That was it," I affirmed.

She noticed me fiddling with my locket and titled her head to one side. I
froze momentarily and smiled.

"A gift from Dante," I answered her silent question. "Christmas of last
year."

I opened the clasp and leaned toward her, showing the pictures inside.

"It's my family."

"Lovely. . . . Does it make you sad to think of Dante like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like, the possibility of him is uncertain," she clasped her fingers
together and placed them on her lap. "I mean, you seem very torn on the
situation. Dante, Drew? It's a big decision."

I dropped my locket and felt it fall into my chest.

"I do. Almost as much as I dislike the idea of hurting either of them. Like
you said, it's a big decision. Almost tragic in its outcome."

She nodded.

"And how does your family feel about Drew?"

"My mom? . . . . .my mom. . . . . ."I breathed heavily. "My mom
is. . . .very open. She always has. . . ."

"And your friends?"

"Who, Stace and Justin?"

She nodded.

"They're there. I guess I never really asked them." I laughed. "So you see
my dilemma. I hardly let anyone in. I suppose I am selfish."

I sighed and let my head fall back into my chair.

"Let's talk about Dante and Drew, again. Shall we?"

I shrugged.

"Does, Dante know about your. . . .altercation with Drew?"

I flinched at the word, altercation. It sounded so criminal.

"Yes."

"And what does he think? Of you seeing, Drew, I mean."

I groaned and clutched my head. Suddenly I rose to my feet and stepped
toward the open windows. I could feel her eyes on me, appraising my
reactions.

"It wasn't just a brief encounter, was it?"

I stared out the windows and grabbed my locket, like the talisman it so
hoped to be.

"No," I whispered. "Not in the least."

"What happened?"

I shook my head and released my locket. I brought my knuckles to my
forehead and softly pressed them to my head. I just felt extremely
exhausted.

"I kissed him," I said quietly, enough for her to hear me. "We
kissed. . . . .Okay? I don't want to talk about this anymore. . . . I need
to lie down."

I moved to my chair and grabbed my bag. She rose from her desk.

"Caleb, will you be alright?"

"I'm fine."

With that I marched from the room, slamming the door behind me.



				~*~



I knocked on the high, black oaked door. The doorbell was just a few inches
away from my grasp, but I chose to knock instead. Two bushels of round
hedges lined the walkway, up to the large modern house.

I could see the shiny floor to ceiling windows to my right, soft beams of
golden light peeking out from the thick drapes. I knew they were home, I
could hear the soft tinkling of music from behind the door.

Instantly the door opened and outstepped Mr. Giordano in all his masculine
glory. I stared up at him, my eyes zeroing in on his thick handlebar
mustache. His eyes widened slightly at my appearance. He gruffly cleared
his throat and turned to the foyer behind him. I looked too and saw Belle
standing near the

farthest wall. She smiled tentatively at me, her expression shocked and
slightly curious.

"Caleb," Mr. Giordano, finally said after a minute of awkward
silence. "What brings you to the west side?"

I smiled, "Hi, Mr. Giordano. Belle."

Belle waved kindly, "Hello, Caleb. Dante's not here, if you're looking for
him. I'm sure he told you."

My face fell. The thought of his lack of informing me, seemed to register
on my face. My mom was at work and I had the car for the day. I had drove
around all day, but ultimately the road I kept taking always led me back to
Dante's house. Now my plans had fallen through and left me standing
awkwardly in the home of my soon to be in-laws.

"That's right," I breathed, my smile re-forming. "I'm sorry, I should've
called."

I moved to turn back to the road, but Mr. Giordano caught my shoulder.

"Caleb, won't you join us for dinner. We were just sitting down to
Lasagna."

I turned, "I wouldn't want to intrude. I've already done enough."

He chuckled lightly, the sound reminding me of Dante.

"Caleb, please, it would be a pleasure to have you," he smiled kindly, his
mustache lifting. "Besides, Dario hasn't seen you in a while. I'm sure your
company will help alleviate the tension."

I looked into the house and saw Belle smiling from the foyer. Her dark hair
a wave of curls down her right shoulder. There was a brief hesitance in her
smile, but as soon as it appeared it was gone.

I smiled, "Well, if you insist."

"We do," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Belle dear, another place
setting."

"Of course," Belle replied and headed to the kitchen, before
calling. "Caleb, honey. Tea or water?"

"Tea, please," I answered, just as we entered the dining room.

Immediately the sight of Dario relieved the awkwardness in the air. His
little bushy head popped up at my voice and he beamed widely. His mood
became infectious. Mr. Giordano chuckled deeply and guided me to the
table. Dario scrunched his nose and jumped up from his seat.

"Caleb!" he exclaimed. "You're here! Where have you been!?!"

I laughed, "Around. . . .God, look at you. You're getting so much bigger."

He bounded around the table and skidded to a halt in front of me. I opened
my arms and felt him run into them. I laughed lightly and ruffled his thick
hair.

"You need a haircut, buddy," I commented. "It's getting shaggy."

"I've been telling him that for the past few weeks," Belle's voice stated
softly, affectionately. "But he won't listen. Perhaps you can persuade him,
Caleb."

Dario released me and sniffed softly. He truly was getting bigger. His body
had elongated, his arms thinner and more defined. His face a little more
oval than round. His nose becoming angular and sharp.

The little boy I met practically a year ago was becoming a teenager before
my eyes. But once he smiled the little boy returned.

"Get a haircut," I mock scolded him, making him grin widely.

"Alright, alright," he agreed and headed back to his side of the
table. "But only if you take me. Dante always makes me get a dorky
haircut."

I laughed, "Sure, alright."

We all sat at the table, the soft clinking of forks against plates piercing
the still air. We silently filled our plates, the smell of the food
rendering us speechless. My stomach growled for the first time today, and I
couldn't wait to devour Mr. Giordano's delicious food. I speared a piece of
cut lasagna and placed it in my mouth. Instantly a burst of flavors
enveloped my tongue. Parmesan. Ricotta. Basil. Tomato sauce. Rich hearty
flavor.

Dario laughed. I looked at him in embarrassment. I must have said something
externally to get a reaction from him.

"At least someone appreciates my food," Mr. Giordano stated, before he
smiled coyly at his wife.

She waved a hand dismissively, "Oh please. You make it sound as if we
criticize your food on a daily basis. Caleb just hasn't had Italian food
continually for three straight months."

I blushed, they seemed to be fighting playfully.

"Oh, I wish I did," I stated softly, my mouth half-full of another
helping. "Dante loves to cook for me."

Belle smiled, "Well, I rest my case. . . .How's Trudy?"

I frowned, "Haven't you both been in constant contact?"

"Oh yes, but not since yesterday. I had to fly up to Washington this
morning and haven't found the time to catch up with her, yet."

"She's fine," I answered. "Just busy with the hospital. She said that you
were still looking for a minister?"

"Oh, don't get me started," she sighed. "The religious organizations in
this town, very close-minded. Its mind-grueling work."

I smiled faintly, "I'm sorry. I should be helping. . . In some way."

"Oh, Caleb!" she exclaimed with undue fear. "You mustn't feel that way. It
was our gift to provide you with the ceremony, besides it's not like I'm
alone in this. Your mother has provided more than enough assistance for the
both of us. It's just in my nature to chastise grown adults, with very
limited experience."

"So, Caleb," Mr. Giordano interrupted, his voice stern, but calm. "Are you
ready for graduation?"

I turned to address him as I placed my fork down. I caught a brief glimpse
of Dario, who was busily peeling his lasagna apart. Oh, how I wish to be
young again. To just be careless and free.

"I hope so," I replied, my voice catching at the end. "In all honesty, I
haven't thought about it much. But I do know Dante has."

His face was unreadable. The thick bushy eyebrows and large mustache were
giving me no insight into my future father-in-laws mind.

"Any colleges you're interested in?" he asked as he took a sip from his
wine glass.

I shook my head, "I never got a chance to apply to any. With the cancer and
all."

He nodded as if this was understood, "Any plans after high school? College?
A job?"

Again I shook my head, "Mr. Giordano-"

"-Please call me Giovanni."

I smiled softly, "Giovanni, I haven't the faintest idea what to do after
high school. I just never saw that far into my future. What was happening
at the moment was my future. And now it's all complicated, because I don't
know if there is that possibility anymore."

The room became silent at my words.

"Just the other day, in fact, the doctor told me I was living with cancer,"
I continued. "He said I was to check in every month, take my treatments,
and hope for the best. Even he doesn't know. . . . I guess what I'm trying
to say is. . . This is my life. . . This disease is my past, present, and
future. . . . And I can't tell you anything further than what I know."

I glanced briefly at them both, avoiding Dario's tender gaze.

"And what I know doesn't move beyond tomorrow."

A full minute passed before either one spoke. And it was Giovanni.

"I see," he responded, as he took yet another sip of his wine.

I gulped. I needed to explain this clearly.

"I know it's not fully understandable and it may seem fickle, but it's the
best I can do. It's the-"

"Caleb, there is no need to explain," Belle offered. "We do understand. And
it's not that you have no plans that were finding
difficult. Its. . . . Giovanni?"

I blinked. This was not the way I thought this evening was headed. I was
just here to apologize to Dante, make amends, then get on with the previous
plans.

"I find this sudden spur of coincidence very serendipitous, Caleb,"
Giovanni said his tone casual. "We find it very hard to get you
alone. . . .to actually have a conversation with you. What with all these
wedding plans and talk of graduation."

I gulped. Where was this leading?

"We have big plans for our son, Caleb," Giovanni continued, his voice
solemn. "We have a family business, as I'm sure he's told you. And it's
something we like to keep that way and the only way to do that is too have
a patriarch of Giordano successors. He's on that path now. . . . "

I shuddered, "I didn't know."

"Caleb, you're an amazing boy," he continued. "You're bright, friendly, and
a good influence on our son. We haven't seen him this happy in
years. You're good for him. . . . But. . . ."

It felt like my whole world was being turned upside down. What was going
on? Why were they doing this? Where was Dante, when you needed him?

"But we just feel like Dante is moving too quickly with this
relationship. He's just barely turning into a man. Eighteen years is too
young to marry. And to have a sick boyfriend to boot-"

I looked up at him instantly. He stopped mid-sentence. He knew he said
something wrong. Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew it, I knew it. It was
always about my lifespan, never about my personality. I bet they had
thought I'd die before things got serious between Dante and me. And now
that they saw that

that wasn't possible, they decided to interfere.

"I think I should, leave," I breathed, as I rose to my feet. "Thank you,
both, for your hospitality."

"Caleb," Belle whispered as she stood. "Please don't feel like were
ambushing you. Were just looking out for what's best for the both of
you. . . . And we just think this marriage is too soon. Give it some
time. Wait a few years, then re-assess."

I glanced at the wooden table, "Wait until I die, you mean."

I heard a small sharp intake of air and I knew I had offended her. Giovanni
was silent from his chair at the head of the table. Dario was also quiet,
probably from the thick tension in the air. I wiped my mouth with the linen
napkin and pushed my chair away.

"I'm sorry, if I have offended you," I said quietly. "It was not my
intention to disrupt Dante's future. Or your plans for him. And I
know. . . . I know how bright those plans are."

I stood and immediately walked to the front door.

"Caleb?" I heard Belle whisper, pleadingly, before I burst through the
door.

I practically ran to my car, gasping for air. My chest clenched
erratically. Why was this happening? Why?! I reached for the car handle and
yanked stupidly. The door remained closed. Instantly large dollops of tears
began to fall from my face. I wiped furiously at my face, the tears
relentless in their out pour. I moved to pull my keys from my pockets.

"Caleb?" a gruff voice spoke.

I stiffened at his voice and bit the side of my cheek, stifling the scream
that was on the verge of my lips. Instead I choked.

"Caleb, are you alright?" he asked, his gruff tone forgotten. "Come, here."

He moved to my side and reached for my arm. I stepped away from his
outstretched hand.

"Don't please," I whispered, brokenly. "I need to go. Clear my head."

"Caleb, I don't understand."

"Your-your family," I choked out, my voice hitched and wet.

And even though I couldn't see his face, I could feel the shift in his
attitude. The wall of anger and disapproval palpable.

"What did they say?" he asked, his voice clipped.

He was trying to stay calm for me.

"It was nothing."

"Caleb," he growled. "What did they say?"

I gulped and swallowed a torrent a tears. He moved toward me again, but
this time I allowed him to touch me. His fingers immediately laced my upper
arm and pulled me to his chest. I felt his arms wrap themselves around me
as I sagged into his solid frame. I just wanted to fall over in
exhaustion. Today was such a long day, even considering all the strength I
had gained since my treatments.

"What did they say, Caleb?"

I sighed, "They told me a few things. . . . .Plans, to be exact. For you."

He stiffened at my words.

"And?"

"And I don't fit in them," I whimpered, my control breaking.

Immediately I felt his arms release me. I froze in surprise. He placed his
hands on my shoulders and stared at me square on. His expression was
smoldering with uninhibited anger and I knew it wasn't directed at me. He
kept eye contact for a brief second, before releasing me and marching up
the driveway. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Instead I watched as Dante walked through his parent's front door. The door
slammed audibly, making me jump. Within less than a minute I heard him
arguing with his parents, with more than enough expletives. My name was
yelled quite a few times, by both parties and I couldn't help but feel
flustered.I was causing this. This division in a family. And I never wanted
that. Suddenly Dante emerged from the house, carrying a large duffle bag,
his mom pleading him to understand.

"No, you don't understand!" He yelled. "We have been more than patient with
everyone's disapproval. Unaware even, but when you blatantly attack him
like this. . . . ." he has no words for his anger. "And now you're telling
us to consider an alternative. I'm outta here."

"Dante, please," Belle pleaded. "Where will you go?"

I sighed sadly and slowly opened my car door. I pulled my jacket off and
threw it in the back seat of the car. Dante was still grabbing a few things
from his house as his parents tried to make him see reason. I just wanted
to leave. Get away from all this anger. I needed time away from Dante to
get a better grip on our relationship, which seemed to be slipping away
slowly.

Suddenly I heard Dante cuss and break away from his parents.

"Hey," he called softly, his voice no longer yelling.

I looked up from the back seat and stood silently at the driver's side
door.

"Hey," he called again as he neared.

We were out of hearing range of his parents by then.

"I am so fed up with those people," he said as he walked up to me.

"I wanna go home," I said as I pulled my keys out.

"Okay, look, let me get the rest of my stuff and then we can go home,
okay?"

"Dante."

"There's just all this stuff I need for school and my clothes. . ." he
insisted as he reached for the back of his head in agitation.

"Dante." I said with a sigh as he continued to speak, ignoring me. "Dante!
Don't do this. They're your family. They're just looking out for your best
interest. They understand that I'm not going to get any better. Okay?
Please."

"Don't say that," he replied softly.

I sighed again.

"I'm tired and fed up," I replied and threw my hands up. "I wanna go home."

"What are you fed up with?" He asked distractedly. "Me?"

"This cancer." I replied exasperated. "It's a part of my life. I have it,
but I don't let it take control of me. Why can't I just live my life
instead of becoming this project for wayward people? Don't you know that
what's ahead of me is bad enough?"

"Don't you want to get better. . .?"

"No!" I yelled. "You want. This has become way too important to you. To
your family."

"What are you talking about?" He asked in bewilderment. "Don't you want to
get better?"

"Yes! Desperately! It's not going to happen. All right? News flash, there's
no cure for cancer." He stood there silently. "Apparently you need to know
that I'll get better in order to love me."

"That's crazy," he replied.

I sighed and smiled emptily.

"Is it?" I asked quietly. "You're on the fast track, Dante. Berkeley,
scholarships, your family. Next stop, owning the family
business. . . . .And you're arguing with your parents over their honest
concern over your future. Over your questionable choice of a partner."

I sighed again and caressed his face.

"You can't do that with a sick person holding you back."

"I can do anything I want," he urged.

"I know," I replied softly. "You're a good man. In fact, you're a wonderful
man. Much better than you give yourself credit for. But nobody wants to be
the one who runs away."

"I'm not running," he insisted and grabbed my hand.

"I know," I answered shakily. "And it's not your choice. . . . Its mine, so
just let me go. We can even say goodbye the

right way."

He sighed sadly.

"It's him isn't it," he breathed. "Drew, I mean."

His eyes searched mine

"Stop," I whispered my eyes brimming with tears. "It has nothing to do with
him."

"Then what does it have to do with," he replied his eyes melting with
tenderness. "Cuz, I've been trying to figure it out for the past several
months. I could see that you felt this way, but still I told myself it was
all in my head."

"It's everything," I answered. "I watch as you carefully guard me every
day. How you spend most of your time, making sure I'm okay and I feel that
in some way. . . ."

I gulped.

"What?"

"That in some way, I'm holding you back."

He scoffed, "That's ridiculous."

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is. You knew my feelings for you way before we entered into this
engagement. I'm here. Forever and always, remember?" I cast my glance
skyward. "God, I can't believe were having this conversation."

He wrapped his arms behind his head and walked the length of the
driveway. The light from his house, casting long dark shadows.

"We don't have too," I quietly replied. "We can always separate amicably."

He laughed, "Amicably? How is it amicable, when I don't even know why we're
splitting up?"

He turned and stared at me, his green eyes flashing a dangerous
color. There was no gold, to offset the pure jealousy he had in his eyes.

"Just tell me it's him, and I'll know the true reason behind this new
feeling."

"It's not just him," I finally acquiesced. "It's the marriage, the cancer,
your future. It's everything."

He was silent.

"I do love you, Dante. Truly I do. But if you chose to marry me and we do
end up together, what happens if the cancer comes back? What happens if I
need around the clock care? What happens when I . . . I die?"

He growled, "You're not going to die."

I smiled faintly.

"Can't we just work things out?" he asked, his voice pleading. "Take things
slowly. Postpone the wedding."

I could see the effort it took him to say this.

"I can't ask you to do that," I whispered. "To take that away from you
would just be unbearable."

"I know we can get through this," he insisted. "It just takes time, you'll
see."

"And Drew?"

"What about him?"

"Would you want a fianc with unrequited feelings for another man? To have
only half of me?"

He gulped and blinked in surprise. I had proved his suspicions true by
saying that one sentence. His face crumbled and for that one moment I hated
myself. I wanted to burn alive, just to remove that small expression of
pain from his face. To receive a hundred broken legs and severe concussions
to have him smile again. But I knew this was good for the both of us.

"I-I don't know what to say," he whispered, his eyes losing their luster.

"You don't have too."

He winced at my words and turned away. His back strained with the effort of
keeping intact. And I just watched as I destroyed a fallen angel.

"I should've known," he stated quietly. "I always sort of felt like we
weren't truly engaged. It seemed like every time we spoke, every time we
touched, I was asking you again, and again to marry me. To belong to
me. But now. . . ."

"I'm sorry," I whispered shakily.

I didn't deserve to cry. I should be permanently detained for what I did to
people I loved. I smiled and reached for his face. My hands shook as I
leaned up and softly kissed him.

"We'll talk later, okay?" I whispered and softly touched his lips.

I whimpered, and pulled away. I started to sob as he opened the door of my
car and held it as I stepped in. His handsome face looked up at me once,
before he swiftly closed the door. He knocked on my window once with his
knuckle. I glanced at him, my eyes watery.

"We'll talk later," he insisted.

I nodded softly and watched as he headed up the driveway. He stood at the
front of my car, staring at me with a level gaze. I sniffed and backed
out. The night seemed to wrap around my despair like a suffocating
blanket. I couldn't even fully cry with its relentless darkness.

I just drove away.



To be continued. . . .



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