hapter 8: Re-edited and reposted! Yay!
Yeah. I like it better this way. The first version was total crap. This is only semi-crap.
Love and Hugs!
Sugarsprite
Robin disappears again to visit the hospital that afternoon. I pretend to have fun with Allan, Will and Joan, but it's not the same. We're all still half asleep from last night's antics and I don't feel whole when Robin's not here. He won't come back until after lunch, and I'm sick of waiting. Joan seems to understand.
"He'll be back before you know it, and hey, we can all go swimming!"
"Swimming?" I ask, thinking I've heard wrong, "I haven't gone swimming since..."
"I know, since Robin fainted that day." Joan rolls her eyes, "Honestly, just because he can't, doesn't mean you shouldn't."
"I-" I can't think of anything else to say. "I'm not really feeling like a swim."
"Come ON!" she cries in exasperation, "I have my PERIOD and I want to swim. It's ninety freaking degrees out! We're going to swim and I want to see you at the lake in fifteen minutes."
"Oh-ho... You got served!" cry the boys.
"You all shut up." I order jokingly. "Alright, I'll come."
Fifteen minutes later, I stand by the edge of the lake, testing the water with my big toe. I immediately shiver and decide I'll pass.
"Since when have you been a wimp?" asks Will from the water, "Come on in, it's not nearly as bad once you're wet."
"Mmph."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" asks Allan from behind me, his sweet face in an unusual expression of sarcasm.
"Not today?" I say.
"Wrong!" cries Joan as she runs head on and pushes me into the lake.
"GAHHHH!" I cry as soon as I reach the surface. I look over at my pink-haired friend. "You'll pay for that, Joan Little!"
When Robin gets back, I'm still wet, even though it's almost eight o' clock at night. I smile at him from my bed, where I have been sitting and making a wet patch on the mattress, reading his book.
"How was the lake?" he asks half-heartedly, slumping onto his cot.
"Wet," I say, and shake my hair.
He says nothing, just gazes at the floor. I look at him more carefully. His eyes... they're different... red rimmed.
"Robin, you've been..." I look at him again, "You... you haven't been crying, have you?"
He turns away.
"Oh Robin... Robin, what's wrong?"
"Marian..."
"Robin, tell me!" I cry, "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me!"
"Mara, I can't." he says, tears appearing in his eyes. "Please..."
"Robin, what's wrong with you?" I ask, gazing into his green eyes which are overflowing with pearly tears.
"You can't ask me that, you just can't!" he sobs, standing up and pulling away from me. "Not now. Please, God, don't do this to me!"
"What are you talking about?" I cry, "Robin, I care about you! I need to know what's wrong!" All the merriment I had a moment ago is gone, crumbled into dust. He's angry at me. He, who's never lost his temper with anyone, is looking at me like I've hurt him. "Why are you crying?" I shout, a tear running down my cheek, "Why won't you tell me anything?! Why don't you TRUST ME?!"
Instead of shouting back at me, he curls into a ball and breaks into hard, gut wrenching sobs. I've seen boys and men cry many times, but him?
"Robin..." I get up and run to him, hugging him, kissing him, anything to stop him from weeping. Anything for him.
"Mara." he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and cries into my shoulder, "Oh Mara, why did I have to fall in love with you?" he asks.
I touch his hair, "It's alright... I'm sorry I shouted."
"I made you cry." He sobs, pulling me closer, "I made you cry."
"That's okay!"
"No it's not! No one should ever make you cry, Mara, no one!" He shouts, "Especially me! I swore I would never make ANYONE cry!!!"
"Robin, you aren't the first person to..." I say, hugging him tight.
"It's not that." He murmurs into my damp tee-shirt.
"What is it, then?"
"I-I've concealed horrible things from you, Mara." He says, pushing away and sitting on his bed. "Terrible things..."
"I-"
"I know I shouldn't have, I should have told you the first day... but... I didn't want you to treat me like some invalid." He stops, and wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. "Look at me, crying like some deranged two-year-old. You must think me a fool." He takes deep, calming breaths, and starts talking again. "I'll tell you... God, I'm sorry Mara. I'm so sorry."
"It's alright..."
"Listen, and after I'm done you can tell me if it's alright or not." he breaks off, takes a second to collect himself, then continues. "When I was seven, I had a severe viral infection that almost killed me. I remember missing a year of school, confined to bed. I sort of got better, well enough to get up and walk around... but... I've never really recovered from the illness... I get sick very often. I miss a lot of school and I spend months in the hospital at a time... I learned all my computer skills from being on bed rest..." he stops.
"What?" I ask.
"The virus attacks my heart."
"What do you mean?" I ask, incredulous.His heart? Surely not.
"I mean I have to go to the hospital all the time. I can't do any athletics. I can only eat certain foods. I have to take twenty pills a day. And now I have to go to a special clinic somewhere in Switzerland."
"Switzerland?"
He nods, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks. "I'm leaving on Monday."
"Monday?"
"And you'll never know if I'll come back." He begins to cry again, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know how long I'm going to live..." his weeps much harder now, the sobs choking him. "And... I can't... let you stay... with me... because... I... love... you...too... much... for... that"
"Robin..." I say, "How the hell could you have kept that from me?"
"I told you... I..."
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?!"
"I... I'm so sorry."
"I don't care." I whisper. "I don't care. Just go away and leave me ALONE!"
"Mara... I..."
"I hate you. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!!!!!!!"
He looks at me, stunned. He tries to hug me, but I push him away, grab my stuff and stalk out of the room, into the hallway, down the elevator, through the doors, across the field, and to the boathouse.
I look out on the lake, where we had first kissed each other. Where I had found the person I though I had wanted to be with forever. And now...
I hate him.
He lied to me. He made me fall in love with him, then purposefully took my heart, ripped it out of me and tore it into shreds.
But yet...
Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?
He didn't ask to be sick. He loved me and... now...
I love him. I still love him.
I find myself crying. I find myself curling into a ball, my heart breaking inside of me. I find myself dragging the same canoe we had taken that night out into the water and paddling.
I curl in it and begin to cry. I miss him. I miss me. I miss everything. And now I'm remembering things that I'm not supposed to remember. I hate everything. I love everything... Oh, I don't know anymore.
All I can do is cry.
And sleep.
Mara sat at the kitchen table, reading a poetry magazine. It was full of poems that made her smile, Limericks, ballads, haikus and [her favorite] sonnets, filled the pages of the magazine.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and thought nothing of it, probably the nurse in charge of caring for Brutus.
Mara put down the magazine. She didn't remember the nurse coming today... in fact, yesterday she had overheard the nurse mention her aching head.
Mara stood up, taking the handgun from a drawer.
"Hello, Mara," came a voice from the doorway. It was Brutus, holding a Red Sox baseball bat.
"H-hello." Mara gripped the gun, hiding it from his view beneath the counter.
"What have you got there, poetry?" he asked, smiling. He walked over to the magazine and tore it in two. "Poetry's crap. Pure romantic crap." He scowled at her. "But you would know a lot about killing romance, wouldn't you, killing my wife."
"You're deluded." Mara declared. "I wouldn't kill my mother. I didn't kill my mother. I love her."
Brutus swung the bat at her head. Mara ducked, screaming.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
"I'm sorry, my dear." He said, swinging the bat again. "This is the only way to bring her back." Mara screamed again.
"Stop! Stop!" she cried, "I didn't do anything!"
"Goodbye, Mara." He said.
He lifted up the bat.
Mara took the gun in her hand and fired.