32
IT WAS TIME to go. We hurried out into the darkness, Robinson’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. It was like a hug—as if now that we’d finally really touched, we couldn’t bear to let go of each other—but it was also him using me to hold himself up.
I was still glowing. I felt brighter than any of the stars.
Kissing Robinson was like coming to the end of the desert and finding a spring. It was sunshine after years of winter. It was Christmas in June. It was—oh, give me a break, why bother with dumb poetic phrases?
What I felt was joy.
Joy that totally swept away the anxiety of breaking out of a hospital against medical advice. My list of rebellious feats was growing longer by the second.
At the edge of the parking lot, Robinson leaned down and gave me another deep kiss. Then he pulled away, smiling. “Suddenly I feel like I can do anything,” he said.
I felt exactly the same way. Everything would be fine. Or even better than fine. Magical. “Just tell me that anything doesn’t include taking a different car,” I said, pressing my hand against his scratchy cheek. “This is excitement enough.”
Robinson kissed me again, his lips soft but urgent. At this rate, we’d never leave the parking lot—and maybe I didn’t even care, as long as this kept happening.
“I’d never ditch Chuck the Truck,” Robinson said after a while. “He needs to see Detroit.”
I laughed giddily—clearly the making out was messing with my head a little. “Chuck the Truck?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Robinson said. “Second cousin to Charley the Harley.”
He laughed at his own joke and climbed into the truck. He started the engine, revving it a few times to warm it up. Then, for some reason, he scooted over into the passenger seat, where I was about to sit.
I quit my giggling. “Um, Robinson?” I said, eyeing the empty space behind the steering wheel.
He leaned back against the headrest. “Yeah, I know I said I felt like I could do anything … but I think it’s probably better if you drive right now.”
I noticed that his voice had become raspy again, and he had his hand over his chest, as if he were having trouble breathing.
“Then we should turn around and go back to the hospital!” I insisted. “Detroit will still be there in a couple of days.”
Robinson shook his head. “No way, Axi. I’m done with that place.”
“But what if it’s not done with you?”
He patted the seat. “Come here, Axi. Sit beside me.”
I went around to the other side and clambered onto the truck’s high bench seat. Robinson put his arm around my shoulders, and I buried my face in his flannel shirt. It smelled like the hospital, but underneath that, like him. Like soap and pine and boy.
Of course I wanted to leave. I wanted to be alone with Robinson again. I wanted more of what we’d started in the hospital. A lot more.
But was this a mistake?
When Robinson spoke again, his voice seemed stronger. It also seemed like he’d been reading my thoughts. “Who cares if leaving here is a mistake? I’d make this mistake again, a million times,” he insisted. “We’re together. That’s what matters. I want to take this trip with you. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. I’m not going to be irradiated or scanned or biopsied or whatever it is they want to do to me.”
I spoke into his shirt because I didn’t want to move away from him, not even a single millimeter. “But what if it’s a death sentence? To refuse treatment now?” I whispered.
Robinson scoffed. “A hospital is a death sentence. You can cut your finger, get a staph infection, and the next thing you know, you’re checking out the grass from underneath. Leaving now, Axi, is choosing life.”
I could hear the quick beating of his heart. “But what if it’s a shorter life?”
He shrugged. “Well, as Kurt Cobain said, ‘It’s better to burn out than to fade away.’ Although, actually, he was quoting a Neil Young song.”
I sat up suddenly. What in the world was I going to do with this infuriating person? “May I remind you that Cobain used it in his suicide note?”
“Well, you have to admit he had a point, GG,” Robinson said mildly.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, calming myself. Robinson’s hand reached out, and his fingers slipped between mine, trying to reassure me.
What if doing what you wanted and doing what was right seemed like two entirely different things? What if by living the life you chose, you somehow doomed yourself—or worse, someone you loved?
After a minute, I opened my eyes. We couldn’t know the future or how long it would last. We could only choose to be happy and alive right now.
“Okay, okay, you win, Robinson,” I said. “But only on these conditions.” I held up two fingers. “One: do not call me GG, remember? Two: you are not allowed to die. Do you hear me?”
Robinson grinned and saluted me. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Agreed. Ten-four. Et cetera.”
We shook on it, as if it were just that simple.
And then I gritted my teeth and started driving.