“Yeah, baby,” she replied quietly.
“Does he talk to you now?” Alton asked. And I heard it. I heard the tone of sadness in his quiet voice, the one that Poppy had told me about.
“Yeah, he does,” Poppy said and, like she did to me, she ran her finger down his cheek. Alton dipped his head in embarrassment, but I caught a little smirk through the gaps in his long hair.
Poppy looked up and saw me leaning against the wall, watching intently. She slowly straightened and I walked forward, reaching for her hand and pulling her forward for a kiss.
“You ready?” she asked.
I nodded my head, eying her suspiciously. “You still not telling me where we’re going?”
Poppy pursed her lips and shook her head, teasing me. She took my hand in hers and led me out the door. “Bye, Alton!” she called over her shoulder.
“Bye,Poppymin,” I heard him say quietly in response. I came to a dead stop as my pet name for Poppy left his lips. Poppy’s hand went over her mouth, and I saw her practically melting on the spot.
She stared at me, and in that stare I knew she wanted me to say something to my brother. Sighing, I turned to Alton and he said, “Bye, Rune.”
Poppy’s hand squeezed mine, urging me to respond. “Bye, Alt,” I replied, awkwardly. Alton’s head lifted, and a huge smile spread on his lips. All because I’d said bye.
That smile lighting up his face made something tighten in my chest. I led Poppy down the steps and toward Poppy’s mama’s car. As we reached the car, Poppy refused to release my hand until I looked up at her. When I did, she tipped her head to the side and declared, “Rune Kristiansen, I’m real freakin’ proud of you right now.”
I glanced away, not comfortable with that kind of praise. With a heavy sigh, Poppy finally released my hand and we climbed into the car. “You going to tell me where we’re going yet?” I inquired.
“Nope.” Poppy backed the car out of the drive. “Though you’ll guess soon enough.”
I tuned the radio to Poppy’s usual station, and sat back in my seat. Poppy’s soft voice began to fill the car, singing along to another pop song I didn’t know. It wasn’t long before I stopped watching the road and simply watched her. Like when she played the cello, her dimples deepened as she sang along to her favorite songs, smiling through the lyrics she loved. Her head swayed and her body moved in time to the beat.
My chest constricted.
It was a constant battle. Seeing Poppy so carefree and happy filled me with the brightest of lights, but knowing these moments were limited, finite,running out, brought only darkness.
Patches of pitch black.
And anger. The ever-present unwound coil of anger that waited to strike.
As if she could see me breaking, Poppy stretched out her hand and laid it on my lap. When I glanced down, her hand was palm-up, her fingers ready to intertwine with mine.
I let out a long exhale and slipped my hand through hers. I couldn’t look at her. I wouldn’t do it to her.
I knew how Poppy felt. Even though cancer was draining her of life, it was the pain of her family members and those who loved her that was killing her. When I got quiet, when I got upset, it was the only time her bright green eyes would dim. When I let the anger consume me, I could see the tiredness on her face.
Tired of being the cause of so much hurt.
Keeping her hand tightly in mine, I turned to look out the window. We drove along the twists and turns out of town. Bringing our joined hands to my mouth, I pressed kisses to Poppy’s soft skin. When we passed a sign for the coast, the heaviness lifted from my chest and I turned to Poppy.
She was already smiling.
“You’re taking me to the beach,” I stated.
Poppy nodded her head. “Yep! Your second-favorite place.”
I thought of the cherry blossoms in bloom in the grove. I envisioned us sitting under our favorite tree. And, unlike me as it was, I sent a prayer that she would make it that long. Poppy had to see the trees in their full flower.
She simply had to hold on that long.
“I will,” Poppy suddenly whispered. I met her eyes and she squeezed my hand like she was hearing my silent plea. “I’ll see them. I’m determined.”
The silence stretched out between us. A lump lodged in my throat as I silently counted the months to when the trees would be in blossom. About four months.