She watched Mark's eyes fill with tears. “I won't accept that. I won't lose you.”
“Aren't we the perfect couple?” she whispered. “You think you have no future, but I don't seem to have one either.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “Stop that kind of talk! You don't know your future. The radiation could have damaged the tumor and stopped its growth. It may never flare up again. You may live to be ninety.”
April's thoughts were reeling. Deep down, she'd assumed that modern medicine would fix her as it had the first time. That the radiation would have shrunk the tumor enough for surgical removal. She hadn't been prepared to hear that it hadn't worked. “What am I going to do?”
“You don't have to make plans for the rest of your life right this minute. You just have to get through the next minute and then the one after that. That's how I do it.”
April realized that every time Mark got sick, he stood at the very crossroads where she now stood. He wondered if he would ever have a tomorrow, ever make plans for a future. Yet he never seemed depressed. He'd shown her that life could be good in spite of bleak medical problems. Mark was strong in a way that April saw she too must be. She couldn't give up. She wouldn't. She took a deep breath. “I feel like I'm going to explode.”
“That feeling I can help you with,” he said, smoothing her hair. “When things look really bad for me, I drive fast.”
“Aren't there laws about speeding?”
“Only if they catch you.”
He drove her in his aqua and white Chevy onto the interstate and out into the countryside, turning off onto side roads and finally stopping on what looked like a deserted airstrip. Weeds grew out of the cracked concrete. Mark shut off the engine and turned to her. “This is where I learned to drive. The surface is still decent.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take the wheel.”
“Me? You want me to drive your car?”
“Drive her fast.”
“But I can't—”
“Sure you can.”
He got out of the car. “Come on, switch places with me.” April slid over into the driver's seat, and Mark got into the passenger's seat. She switched on the engine. It rumbled, low and velvety. She let the clutch out slowly and the car eased forward. It felt like a racehorse coiled and waiting to sprint. She pressed on the gas pedal, felt the car lurch, and glanced at Mark. He grinned.
She pulled out onto what had once been a runway. She shifted gears and felt the car gather speed. She shifted again and pushed the pedal lower. Forty, sixty, seventy—the speedometer's needle climbed. She gripped the wheel with both hands, braking as she came to the end of one runway and turning onto another.
Eighty, ninety … the speedometer inched higher. The field on either side of the strip became a streaking blur. Her fear faded. She thought of nothing except pushing the car faster. It was pure exhilaration. The engine roared. The needle hit 100, but then a curve forced her to brake and send the needle downward into the 70s.
As she pushed the car along the crisscrossing surfaces of long, deserted runways, her mind emptied of her troubles. Nothing else mattered but the speeding car. Every nerve ending was focused on keeping the car going fast. The tires hit breaks in the concrete, making the car vibrate and making her hold on tighter. And push harder. Finally, exhausted, she slowed, downshifted, and braked.
Her knuckles were white. She'd been gripping the wheel so hard that she'd lost all sensation in her hands. Perspiration poured off her face and neck. Breathing hard, she leaned back against the leather upholstery. The roar in her ears went quiet, so quiet she thought she'd gone deaf. During the drive, she'd forgotten everything. The brain tumor. The doctor's bleak report. Her plans for college. Her family, her friends, even Mark. It all had melted into the white blur of speed and heat and the sound of a racing engine and the smell of gasoline. She turned toward Mark.
His face was awash in afternoon sunlight. He was smiling, and his dark brown eyes danced. “Now you know why I do it.”
Later, as he drove her home, April's fear returned. Where had she gotten the nerve to drive so fast? What if she'd crashed? Wrecked his car? She might have killed both herself and Mark! Yet she had tempted fate. And she'd won. She was still alive. She smiled and caught sight of her reflection in the glass window. She looked disheveled but glowing. Mark had given this to her. He had understood exacdy what she'd needed to once again feel in control of her life.
It was almost dark when she made him drop her off at the top of her driveway. “Go on home,” she said. “I have to face my parents by myself.”
“I'll go with you.”
She stroked his arm. “This is my battle. I'll call you later.”
When she walked through the door, her parents threw themselves at her. “Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you!”
“I went to see Mark.”
“Mark! You left us sitting there in the doctor's office. We didn't know where you'd gone, what had happened to you.”
“Don't ever do that to us again, April,” her father growled.
“I'm sorry I worried you,” April said, feeling guilty. “I guess I just figured you'd realize where I'd gone.”
“No,” her mother said, shrilly. “We didn't realize.”
“I said I was sorry.” She glanced at them, seeing their anxiety but feeling annoyed. “I'm not a child, you know. I'm almost eighteen.”
“You're our child.” Her father's voice rose. “And I don't care how old you get, we'll always be concerned about you. We all heard some pretty jolting news today. Don't you think we were affected by it too?”
“Yes.” She felt tears stinging her eyes, but she didn't want to break down and cry. The exhilaration of the drive was evaporating, and she couldn't hold on to it when her parents kept jerking her back into their reality. “I said I was sorry.”
Her father's scowl lessened, and he took her into his arms. “We love you, April. And I don't want you to think for a minute that what the doctor said today is the final word. There are qther doctors, other treatment centers. I've placed some calls to European facilities. They don't have to deal with the FDA, so sometimes their treatment techniques and medical protocols aren't as rigid as ours over here.”
No! April thought. She didn't want to spend months trekking all over the globe looking for some elusive cure when all that she loved and cared about was right here. “Well, Dr. Sorenson did say that the tumor was dormant now. I think that's a good sign … don't you?”
“I do,” her mother said. “I think we have to concentrate on the positive aspects.”
Her father stepped away, raked his hands through his graying hair, and said, “Of course we will. I just don't want April to feel as if she's been robbed of hope.”
“I still have hope,” she assured him. “I see how Mark makes it through a day at a time. And that inspires me. I'll make it through that way too.”
“And about college—”
“Not now.” April interrupted her mother. “I can't think about that now.”
Her father left the room, and her mother sat with her on the sofa. They sat quiedy, with only the ticking of the grandfather clock across the room breaking the silence. The tension of the day overcame April, and suddenly she felt exhausted. She put her head back and closed her eyes.
“You really like this boy, don't you?”
April tensed. “I thought we already talked about Mark and me.”
“But your feelings for him have deepened, haven't they?”
April heard a melancholy note in her mother's words, and April wondered what she was expected to say. “I like him.” She took a deep breath, knowing it was time to be completely truthful. “Actually, I love him.”
“Love's a serious word. I've never heard you use it with anybody except family.”
“I've never felt this way about anybody else before.”
“April, don't—”
“No, Mom, you don't.” April strug
gled to her feet. “You don't know what I'm feeling. But I do, so please don't lecture me about my emotions. My whole life changed today. I don't know what it means yet, but I just know things aren't going to move along the way you, Dad, and I had planned them. I need time to think. I need space. And right now, Mark's the only person in the world who understands me.”
Without waiting for her mother to reply, April darted from the room and ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she threw herself across her bed and wept bitterly.
It took April three weeks to decide that she wasn't going to go away to college. Dr. Sorenson's analysis of her case had dashed many of her dreams and ambitions. She knew her parents were relieved because they hadn't wanted her to be far away, but they were also upset because college had been in their plans for her ever since she was born. “We'll find someplace local,” her father said. “Good heavens, we live in New York, there are plenty of choices.”
“Sure,” April said, forcing herself to sound cheery. “Maybe 1/11 take a few courses—you know, the things every freshman has to take, and then transfer somewhere in January.”
Ever since April's argument with her mother, her parents had been walking on eggshells around her. They had nothing more to say about Mark, which helped her feel less boxed in and defensive, but she knew they'd discussed it between themselves many times. Just as long as they left her alone, she didn't care what they talked about.
On the morning when Kelli was leaving with her father to drive out to Oregon, April showed up in her friend's driveway. They stood beside the trailer hooked to the back of Kelli's father's car, waiting for him to finish up details inside the house. April eyed the trailer solemnly. “I'll bet it's full.”
“To the brim. I didn't realize how much of my stuff I wanted to take with me.”
“You are planning on coming back, aren't you?”
Kelli cast a furtive glance toward her house. “If I have a place to come back to.”
“Are things that bad?”
“I think Dad's using this trip as an excuse to check out his options.” April didn't know what to say, but Kelli changed the subject. “I'm going to miss you.”
“Same here.”
“You are going to be all right, aren't you?”
“As all right as I can be under the circumstances.” When she'd first told Kelli about her visit to Dr. Sorenson, her friend had butst into tears, and it had been April who'd ended up comforting Kelli instead of the other way around.
“At least you have Mark,” Kelli said. “I'm glad you do.”
“Me too. At least some part of my life is perfect.”
The front door opened and Kelli's father came out, juggling a Thermos of coffee and a set of road maps. Kelli's mother was right behind him. April waited while Kelli hugged her mother goodbye. Then she hugged her friend. “You write me,” Kelli said. Tears brimmed in her eyes.
“I will. You write too.” April sniffed. Saying goodbye was harder than she'd imagined.
Kelli climbed into the car, and April called, “See you at Christmas.” A lump rose in April's throat. She was supposed to be going away too, and for the first time it struck her how completely her life had changed. She stepped back and stood shoulder to shoulder with Kelli's mother, watching the car and trailer pull slowly out of the driveway and out of her life.
Over the next several weeks, April said goodbye to many of her friends and watched them head off to college, while she enrolled in only two classes at NYU. Freshman orientation was a bewildering maze that left her tired and short-tempered, but Mark picked her up afterward and took her to their favorite little restaurant, where he soothed her with a plate of linguine and a chocolate torte. “Feel better?” he asked as she finished the meal.
“Much. But if I continue to eat like this, you'll have to get a tow truck to drive me around.”
He smiled. “Pd love you even if you grew another head.”
“I'll keep it in mind.” He'd been unusually quiet. “Want to tell me what's bothering you?”
“What makes you think something's bothering me?”
“Isn't something?”
He shrugged, looked sheepish, and said, “I guess I've been thinking about you starting classes. And about all the new guys you'll be meeting.”
“Oh, sure. Bight. I'm having to beat them off with a stick already.”
“I'm serious, April. You're beautiful, and it won't be long before some guy notices and asks you out.”
Half exasperated, she said, “So what's your point? Do you want me to say yes?”
“Of course not. But I don't want you to feel obligated to me either.”
Completely exasperated now, she snapped, “Is that what you think of me? That I date you because I feel obligated? That's idiotic, Mark! And insulting. Especially after all we've been through together.”
“Don't be mad.”
“I don't know what else to be. You're really upsetting me.”
He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “That is the last thing I ever wanted to do. I don't know why I'm acting like such a jerk. Forgive me. Okay?”
She couldn't stay angry with him, but she didn't want to let him off too easily either. “So, will you please get over your problem already? I don't know how else to show you I care about you. About us. I don't know what else I can say.”
He studied her intently. “All right. Fair enough. I won't question your feelings again.” He paused, stared at her thoughtfully, then asked, “Do you believe in love at first sight? I do. And the first time I looked up and saw you across that hospital waiting room, I was dazzled. I know that must sound stupid, but it's the truth. When my grandmother was alive, she used to tell me that every time God creates a soul in heaven, he creates another to be its special mate. And that once we're born, we begin our search for our soul mate, the one person who's the perfect fit for our mind and body. The lucky ones find each other.”
Moved, she reached across the table and took his hand. “Mark, I know that we have a place in each other's lives. And no matter what happens, I will never forget you. And I will never feel quite the same way about anybody else again. You are my first—no—you are my only love.”
His eyes filled with tears and, embarrassed, he glanced away. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “Come on, let's get out of here. I want to hold you and kiss you and if I do it here—well, we may have to find another restaurant to call ours.”
She stood with him, and arm in arm they walked to the cashier, paid, and walked out into the moonlight.
On September fourth Mark turned twenty-two, and his parents threw a family birthday party. Their small house was filled with aunts, uncles, and cousins. Mark's mother cooked platters of fopd along with several desserts, including an enormous cake that sat in the center of the dining room table. Balloons, trailing long ribbons, floated against the ceiling, and a birthday banner stretched from one side of the dining room to the other. “Having a good time?” Mark yelled to April above the noise of the celebration.
“Terrific!” she answered. When it came time to open presents, she sat on the floor by his feet handing him gifts from a large pile on a nearby table. She held her gift back, waiting until most of the others were opened. Finally she pushed the giant, beautifully wrapped box toward him.
“Open it,” April urged, anxious for Mark to see her present.
He ripped off the wrapping paper, reached into the box, and pulled out a complete racing suit made of a flame-retardant fabric. The silvery white material of the coveralls, helmet, and gloves caught the light as he held them up. His jaw dropped. “This is awesome.” He stared down at her. “These things cost a fortune!”
“You're worth it,” she said, satisfied with his reaction and knowing she'd caught him totally off-guard.
Mark jumped up and held the outfit for all to see. “Look at this! It's the best stuff made for racing today.”
She grinned, but stopped grinning when she saw the expression on Mark's m
other's face. She was not smiling. She was not one bit impressed with April's gift. April realized that she had only been thinking of what Mark would like when she'd chosen the gift. She'd forgotten how his mother might react.
Later, when April was helping to stack dishes in the kitchen, Rosa said to her, “I know what you gave Mark cost a great deal of money.”
“The money isn't important. I picked something that I knew he'd like. I know you don't approve of his racing, but the suit will make it safer. I mean, I worry about him too. I'm sorry if it upset you.”
Rosa studied April. “I realize Mark's a grown man. And I know how much his racing means to him. I'm not trying to be an over-protective mother, but put yourself in my place. When he was diagnosed with CF as a litde boy, his doctor told us that he probably wouldn't live beyond his sixteenth birthday.”
April sucked in her breath. “Really?”
“I never dreamed he'd see twenty-two. Every year now is a special gift from God. What upsets me about the racing is that every time he goes out on that track, he's flirting with death.”
“He's a good driver.”
“I know he is. But why court disaster? It scares me to watch him drive. That's why I stopped going to the track to watch him. When he began dating you, I thought he might give up the racing.”
“I don't think that's going to happen,” April replied. “I think the racing sort of balances out the CF in his mind. He can't change his medical condition, but he can affect how fast he pushes his car. Pushing the car to its limit makes him feel in control.”
“You're right. But I can't …” Mark's mother's voice trailed off, and April could see that the conversation was making Mrs. Gianni very emotional.
“I understand,” April told her. “But for him, it's worth the risk. And neither of us really has the right to rob him ofthat sense of power.”
Rosa slipped a pile of dishes into a sinkful of water. “Life never balances out, April. At best, it simply lets you coast along with the illusion of control. At worst, it wrenches control from you totally and then you have to decide how you're going to deal with it.”