‘ Well then, praise the Lord,’ Troy said.
His mother swatted the back of his head. ‘ Show some respect, young man.’
‘ I thought I was!’ He laughed.
With that, I started to wonder if I’ d somehow conjured my own form of hell: a place where a smart, cute, funny guy kept flirting with me but nothing could come of it, especially with his mother literally between us.
Plus, as part of this hell, Martucci was asking me to rub sunscreen on his back.
‘ Normally I say sunscreen is for pansies,’ Martucci explained, holding out the bottle, ‘ but I don’ t trust this desert sun. It does wicked things to the skin.’
He turned so his back was to me. Across the width of his shoulders was a tattoo of an eagle, which seemed to flap its wings as he flexed to lie down. Didn’ t it figure? Mere feet away was a back I’ d enjoy giving a good rubdown, and here I was, smearing lotion on Martucci, trying not to wince when I had to lift the rattail out of the way.
‘ There, done,’ I proclaimed moments later, even though he was still white with the lotion I’ d barely grazed over him. I grabbed my book-a trashy paperback I’ d bought at the hotel gift shop-and settled into my chair.
‘ Aren’ t you going to put on sunscreen?’ Troy asked.
‘ Yeah,’ Martucci piped up, ‘ I was looking forward to watching you rub it all over yourself.’
Ugh! ‘ Martucci, you are such a pig. And I already put some on in the room. You’ re supposed to apply sunscreen half an hour before sun exposure. Therefore, you are currently frying, whilst I, in my wisdom, am only allowing enough rays through to give me a golden hue.’ Then I buried my nose in my book, signaling the end of conversation.
Martucci passed out almost as fast as Brie had. I attempted to read but was distracted by Troy shifting from his front side to his back, adjusting the lounge chair, sighing, coughing, and then flipping back over to his stomach. Finally he sat up and said, ‘ How long are we going to lie here?’
‘ It’ s been fifteen minutes,’ I said.
‘ It’ s so hot. I thought it’ d been a couple hours.’
‘ It’ s not the heat,’ Kitty said to me, glancing up from her magazine. ‘ He’ s always this way. The boy can’ t sit still.’
‘ Yes, I can,’ he said, and then he stood. ‘ Think I’ ll swim a few laps.’
‘ See?’ Kitty said smugly.
I peeked over the top of my book as he walked to the end of the pool and dove in neatly. Then he attempted to swim laps, which was probably like trying to jog through a minefield with so many kids playing and people floating around on air mattresses.
‘ It’ s so good to see him swim,’ Kitty said. ‘ We wondered if he’ d ever be able to. He told you about his motorcycle crash, didn’ t he?’
I set down my book. ‘ Called it a spill.’
‘ Heh. Spill. That scar’ s just a small reminder of what he went through. He didn’ t walk for a year, and then he had a terrible limp for several more. Did he mention that?’
I shook my head.
‘ He put me through the paces, I’ ll tell you that. I wondered if either one of us was going to survive his teenage years.’
‘ Yeah, he said that he always thought-’ And then I stopped.
My unsaid words hung in the air, and I hoped Kitty wouldn’ t catch on, but she said, ‘ That he’ d go before Marissa.’
‘ I’ m sorry. I didn’ t mean to bring her up. Here you are trying to relax and have a good time.’
‘ Don’ t worry. I’ m glad to talk about Marissa. It’ s funny how people are afraid to mention her name-as if by saying it, they’ ll remind me that she’ s gone. As if I don’ t already know that every second of every day.’
‘ That’ s got to be tough.’
‘ Some days are better than others.’ She gave me a reassuring smile. ‘ This day is a good one.’
I took a moment to let her words sink in. ‘ Do you mind,’ I ventured, choosing my words as carefully as I could, ‘ if I asked what Marissa was like? All I know about her is what she wrote on the list. And a few things from yearbooks Troy let me borrow. I’ d love to know more about her.’
‘ Oh, I’ d love to tell you. She was such a cheerful girl, you know. Never let things get her down. Funny. Bright. And she always had a hobby going-I remember for a while there she was into sewing. She made all of the draperies in our house. Then it was model airplane building of all things. And that girl loved children. She always said she was going to adopt a houseful of kids when she grew up-you know, poor kids who had nowhere else to go. I guess she had a thing for the underdog. Perhaps it was those years of being overweight that made her more sensitive to others. Mostly, though, I’ d have to say she was a sweetie. I suppose every mother says that about her daughter, but with Marissa it was true. She was always thinking about other people. Wanting to make a difference in their lives.’
Well, that last part sounded familiar.
‘ Were you aware that one of the things Marissa wrote on her list was to change someone’ s life?’
Kitty seemed pleased. ‘ Troy didn’ t tell me that one, although it sounds like her. He mentioned that there was one about riding in a helicopter& and getting a massage& and, of course, losing the weight. A few others. I understand that there are twenty things& ?’
I nodded. ‘ I don’ t have the list with me here, but it’ s right up in the room. I could run up and get it if you want to see it.’
‘ That’ s okay. Truthfully, before I see it, I’ d rather the whole thing be finished.’
‘ From your mouth to God’ s ears,’ I said, holding up crossed fingers.
‘ What do you mean-is it difficult?’
‘ Nah. Although it’ s not an easy list, that’ s for sure. Some of the tasks are definitely challenging.’
