How Do I Love Thee by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

thinner, and his skin looked sallow. Gone were the tan and the thick muscles from hours of working out on the football field. His hair was growing back and his head was covered in a fine blond fuzz. “I've missed seeing you,” she said, taking his hand. It felt light, as if his bones had gone hollow.
    “Not as much as I've missed seeing you. Do you know what it's like to lie here day after day with nothing to do but think about us? “
    “At least I've been able to keep busy with school.”
    He patted the edge of the bed. “Sit. Take the remote. We'd better find that cable show and watch Bobby shine.”
    She took the remote, flipped to the channel broadcasting the Bowl competition, and curledup in the bed next to Steve. “Where are your parents?”
    “I asked them to watch the event with some of their friends, which they were happy to do. My moods haven't been the best these days. I really hate them hovering over me.”
    “They want to be close to you, Steve, for as long as possible. I know the feeling.”
    He studied her face. “Bobby's lucky to have you. I'd be hard-pressed to know what to do if—well, if things were different for me.”
    She would find it difficult too. She couldn't begin to wrap her mind around a life with no Steve at all.
    The Brain Bowl started; she turned up the sound. “Bobby looks good on TV,” she said.
    “He's scared stiff,” Steve said. “I can tell by the way he's clenching his jaw.”
    Knowing Bobby's habit too, Dana smiled, “He does it when he's scared or anxious.”
    They watched as Bobby's team fired off correct answers and pulled ahead of its opponents. Bobby answered many of the questions himself, doing complicated math equations in his head. “He's so smart,” Steve said when thecompetition took-a station break. “It blows me away.”
    “And you're so athletic,” Dana said.
    “Too bad we didn't each get a little of what the other had.”
    “No, it isn't. Then you'd both be just average instead of brilliant in two separate ways.”
    Steve squeezed her hand. “You're brilliant too. I wish I could listen to you play the piano. It helps, you know, when I hurt really bad.”
    She was touched. “I'll make you some tapes.”
    “Not as good as the real thing, but that'll have to do. I wish I could hear you play in April.”
    “Don't worry—my parents will videotape the whole thing. You'll see the performance.”
    He toyed with a strand of her hair. “When this is over for me—”
    “Don't talk that way.”
    “Dana, it's going to be over.” Tears welled in her eyes, and he wiped them with his fingertip. “I want you to know that without you, I'd never have made it this long.”
    She opened her mouth to speak, but heshushed her. “Thank you for loving me, Dana. Thank you with all my heart.”
    She held him, pressing her face into his chest. In the background, she heard the Brain Bowl commentator declare her high school's team the winner. She heard Steve say, “Way to go, Bobby!” She knew Bobby would be giving his teammates high fives and holding the trophy up to the camera. She knew all these things but couldn't look because being held by Steve was the sum total of her existence at that moment. She kissed him and was consumed by the eerie sensation that she would not be alone with him again, that this would be their last kiss.
    Bobby came home a hero. The principal ordered a pep rally in the gym, where the Brain Bowl team was treated to an hour of skits by classmates and praise from the faculty. Dana sat in the bleachers and cheered along with Bobby's parents, who'd been invited for the celebration. Steve arrived in a wheelchair, and Bobby made a speech saying that it was Steve's example of excellence that had always spurred him on. Dana did not make eye contact withSteve because she knew she could not have kept from sobbing uncontrollably.
    The silver trophy was placed in the glass case usually reserved for athletic awards next to the principal's office.