How Do I Love Thee

Five

Steve and Bobby's parents came into the room minutes later. "We got your note," Hank Harrod said.

                "And we heard all about your piano playing from the people who were leaving," Martha Harrod said to Dana. "Sorry we missed it."

                "Rain check," Bobby said.

                Mr. Harrod turned to Steve. "You must be feeling better."

                "I feel fine when I don't have a headache. And being stuck in that room upstairs isn't much fun."

                "You'll see Dr. Patelli in the morning," his mother said. "I'm sure he'll have some answers for us."

                "Hope so. I need to get back to the field. We barely won this past weekend." The game had been televised Saturday night on ESPN. Dana hadn't seen it. She and Bobby had sat together on her porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching the stars come out.

                His father hooked an arm around Steve's shoulders. "That freshman who replaced you stunk. Couldn't hut the side of a barn with his passes. The defense saved his cookies."

                They started walking and discussing the game. Martha had gone around them, reaching the elevator ahead of them and pushing the button. Bobby stood in the hall with Dana, as if forgotten by his family.

                Dana watched his lively and animated expression sag. Pity and disgust toward his parents mingled in her. How could they be so blind to his feelings? She slipped her hand into his. "Want to buy a girl a Coke? She's pretty thirsty after all that piano paying."

                He blinked, as if remembering suddenly where he was and who was with him. "I was flashing back to middle school," he said apologetically. "Steve had just thrown the touchdown pass that won the league championship. Mom and Dad were so excited that they forgot me at the field. I was hanging with some other guys in the upper part of the stadium, and the next thing I knew, the car had left the parking lot after the rest of the team, honking and cheering. They were all the way to the pizza place before Steve asked, 'Where's Bobby?'" Bobby sighed. "Dad came back for responsibility to keep up. I guess I've just never been good at keeping up."

                Dana touched her forehead to Bobby's chest. "Then you can keep up with me. And right now I have to go home. But I demand a soda first."

                He offered her a sad smile. "What would I do without you, Dana? You're everything to me."

Dana's phone rang after eleven that night. She grabbed it, knowing her mother didn't like her getting calls that late. Bobby knew it too, so she was prepared to remind him when a voice said, "Hi, Dana."

                Her breath caught. It wasn't Bobby. "Hi, Steve."

                "I know it's late," Steve said. "I hope you weren't asleep."

                "No, just studying."

                "I felt I should call and say I'm sorry."

                "For what?"

                "For giving you a hard time every time I see you. I hadn't been very nice to you, and that's not right."

                Her hand squeezed the receiver. "No, you haven't," she said. "You made me pretty mad at you tonight."

                "I figured I did. No excuses except it was a real shock to walk out on the patio that day and discover the one girl I'd always wanted to meet up with again was dating my brother."    

                "I like Bobby. He's been good to me."

                "And he's crazy about you, so don't worry, I'm not going to rock the boat."

                Relief mingled with regret. "I wouldn't hurt him for the world."

                "Neither would I."

                "He worships you, you know. And feels neglected, left out" she believed Steve was in a position to help Bobby with his relationship with their parents, especially their dad.

                "I know. I've tried for years to get Dad to pay more attention to Bobby, but I guess it's still not happening."

                "No, it isn't."

                Steve sighed heavily. "What's ironic is that Bobby has nothing to feel inferior about. He's really smart."

                "But he's not an athlete."

                "I still don't know why that matters so much to him. When we were kids, he used to d my math assignments. I remember a time when I was eight and Bobby was only four. He poured Mom's face powder and wrote some addition problems in the dust. I got a licking because nobody believed that a four-year-old could have done the mat." Steve chuckled. "He felt really bad about me getting into trouble and told Mom he learned how to add and subtract watching Sesame Street. The truth is he's always been a whiz. All I can do is play football. I'd have traded some of my athletic skills for some of his smarts many time."

                Dana felt herself softening. It would have been better if she could have stayed angry at Steve, but she couldn't, and she felt torn between her loyalty to Bobby and her feelings for Steve. "I know Bobby's smart. Too bad your dad can't appreciate him."

                "He's lucky to have you. Very lucky."

                Her moth felt dry as cotton. "I'm really sorry about your headaches. I hope you'll be alright."

                "I will. Thanks for playing tonight. I'd forgotten how good you were."

                She was flattered. "I was mad at you when I started playing, but I got over it once I got into the music."

                He laughed. "That coordinator was all over you about playing for the shut-ins. It was nice of you to say you'd try to work it out."

                "How can I pass up the opportunity to be in front of a real live audience?"

                "I'll miss you when I go back to school."

                "Same here," she said before thinking. She bit her lower lip as silence lengthened between them.

                Finally Steve said, "But you're Bobby's girl now."             

                "Yes," she answered, swallowing around a lump in her throat. "I'm Bobby's girl now."

                Dana was sitting in class the next morning, listening to a boring lecture, when Bobby suddenly appeared in the doorway.

                "Can I help you, Mr. Harrod?" the teacher asked.

                "I have to talk to Dana Tafoya. It's an emergency."

                Bobby looked pale and frantic. Dana grew alarmed.

                "I have a pass, Bobby said, waving a piece of paper. "Please."

                The teacher nodded and Dana scooted out the door. The hall was empty. "I'm on my way to the hospital." Bobby's eyes looked wild.

                "What's wrong?" Dana's heart hammered and her mouth went dry.

                "It's Steve," Bobby said, a tremor in his voice. "He got his diagnosis. He's got brain cancer, Dana, and it's going to kill him."