fifteen,
Max did nothing but talk on a first date; but there was something
of a hesitancy about her, something held back, that made him tread
gently. It was odd. She had the demeanour of a young girl, but the
wisdom of a woman; and Max had no idea how he should play it. Occasionally,
he would catch her looking at him with that puzzled air, as if something
about him confused her. It made him smile, and when he smiled, she
smiled back like a hazy sunrise on a June morning, with all the promise
of a glorious summer day.
He suspected that she wouldn't succumb the first time he asked her
to stay, but the last thing he was expecting was the bombshell that
was waiting for him.
‘Max, we need to talk...’
He wished he could be angry. Anger wouldn't hurt as much as the complete
devastation he felt. No one had ever dumped him before.
She had done it quite gently.
‘It's not you, Max, it's me. I don't - I can't play these games
any more. I stopped that a long time ago.’
‘Stopped what?’ |
To answer,
she took his hand and turned it over, exposing the skin under his
forearm. He didn't resist. The touch of her finger running over
the needle marks sent such excitement through him he couldn't think
straight.
‘I used to be like you, once. You puzzled me at first. You
seemed just like the kind of guys I played with. Those guys wouldn't
be interested in me now, and I don't know why you are.’
Max was surprised by the fierceness of the jealousy that shot through
him at the thought of anyone touching her... anyone but him...
‘I used to be just like you.’
She pulled her sleeve up and offered her forearm for him to inspect.
Bewildered, he noted the faint marks that spoke of her past.
‘It's not because you're still using - that wouldn't keep
me away. I can't commit to you now, because really, I'm dead.’
Max felt like he was drowning.
‘You've asked me so many times why I live the way I do. It's
because I'm dead - or at least, I should be dead.’
She leaned forward, lifting his hand and looking into his eyes.
|
