Till Death Do us 'Part

Chapter Eleven

  ~*~*~*~*~*~Geovanni POV~*~*~*~*~*~*~
    
     My nerves began going rapid as he and I walked out of the obnoxiously loud room and through the thin hallway. We walked side by side in silence. My finger tips were earthquakes, shaking at every possible moment.
     Marshall took notice and said, "Are you nervous?"
     I clenched my hands into fists and held them tightly at my sides.
     "Just a little."
     That was not true. I was more than "a little" nervous, I was very nervous. They should change my birth certificate to say Nervous Delgado. But I decided to let my pride sneak in and do the talking for me and make me seem a little more confident than I was. It was not that I did not have any confidence what so ever, but in that moment where I was overwhelmed and anxious my confidence decided to disappear in the blink of an eye.
     We walked along in silence until we reached the stage. It looked bigger without all the security guards surrounding it and also without all the speakers and instruments crowding it up. We strolled up the small ramp that lead behind the curtains of the stage, and together we stepped through them, looking out at the empty arena.
     "Wow," I mused. From the seats, it did not look as bad as it did from the stage's perspective.
     "Amazing, ain't it?" he laughed.
     "How do you do this-"
     The place was massive in size. It was so large that when I moved my eyes from one end to the other, they began to hurt and get dry. I started to wonder how someone could perform in such a big place, that held so many people and not be afraid?
     "Practice makes perfect." He plopped down on the edge of the stage that rose ten feet above the concrete ground. "It comes almost easily now."
      I stayed standing, still staring at the large seats and thinking how only an hour or so ago I had been sitting in the first aisle.
     "You wanna sit down?" he patted the floor beside him.
I looked down next to him. I became giddy as I sat down beside him. A gentle breeze blew by, slightly whipping my curls around me. I noticed Marshall getting caught up in the stars that were much more visible without the blinding lights of the stage turned on.
"You like stargazing?" I asked him.
He turned his head to me slowly with a small smirk on his face.
"I'm not much of a stargazer, but every once in a while they're relaxing to look at," he answered.
     I nodded my head and looked down at my fingers. They were not earthquakes anymore and they were still. I, however, still felt the butterflies fluttering in the pit of my stomach. I was still in shock at the thought of me sitting there with Eminem, looking up at stars. They were beautiful. I ended up staring at them with him until my eyes felt sore and dry. The stars were captivating the way they glew against the black night sky.
     "So tell me about yourself," Marshall suddenly spoke after minutes of silence and stargazing.
     I dropped my head from looking at the sky and looked at him, blinking a few times to regain moisture in my dried eyes.
     "Well, what do you want to know?" I lifted my legs since they were tired of hanging off the stage and crossed them in front of me. "I'm sure you're wondering about the cancer."
     He looked sympathetically at me and frowned slightly. "You don't have to talk about it."
     "It's okay to ask, I'm pretty used to it."
     "Where is it? Or what type?" he asked.
      "Well, it started in my breasts, then moved to my lymph nodes, and kind of bounced between the two for, like, seven years."
     Marshall looked a little shocked and worried all at the same time. "Seven? Jesus, you're really strong for that."
     I held onto those words in my mind, and they sort of repeated themselves over and over again.
     "Yeah, but it sort of spread, now to my liver, more lymph nodes, and brain." I frowned and looked down at the floor of the large and echoey arena. "I think I'm done fighting."
"Done? Why stop now when you've come so far?" he rubbed the small of back, comforting me to the best of his ability. "You're young, gorgeous, and have a lot of life to live. If you have a chance, I'd say take it."
I widely smiled at his advice. I would remember that. Some tears were taking position in my tear duct, so I quickly changed the subject. I did not like crying, not in front of people.
"Let's talk about something less morbid," I suggested.
     He chuckled and said, "How about some hobbies of yours?"
     I thought for a moment. I did not do much or have much hobbies. It was not because of my illness, but because I was simply not an active person.
     "I like listening to music, and sometimes I take photos. I'm not very exciting."
     To that, he chuckled again. His laugh brought a smile to my face for some reason. It was a lot different to hear it in person than it was to hear it occasionally on T.V.
     "Yeah, I'm the same. When I'm not on stage I don't do much. I just write or play basketball. Oh, and sometimes I draw."
      "You should draw me something one day," I laughed.
      "Maybe," he replied. He looked up at me in a funny way. It was a pleasant sort of way; it had looked like he was appreciating something about me. I tried not to stare back, however I could not help myself but to stare back at his eyes the way he was at mine.
      He looked away quickly and said,"Sorry, you're just really- breath taking, to say the least." He then looked down at the floor awkwardly.
     I was concealing a laugh because his awkwardness was cute to me. I also started blushing because of his compliment.
     "Thank you, Marshall, that means a lot."
     He looked up at me and flashed me a darling smile before we heard his manager's voice call out to him.
     "Marshall!" called the loud voice from the corner of the stage. "You have interviews to do. Quit flirting and get inside."
     Marshall rolled his eyes, and his face dropped to a displeased frown. He gave me a warm look that apologized for him, stood up, and slowly walked over to his manager. He grabbed Marshall by the arm and hurriedly walked him off the stage and through the doors. It looked like a parent forcing his child out of the store, except there was no parent and nobody there was a kid. I began to wonder what went on in the studio between those two?
     I glanced at the beautiful stars that looked like they were dancing in unison and the sky was their stage once more and decided to leave the stage with whatever dignity I had. I wished Marshall was able to stay longer than just those five minutes, and that his manager did not have to drag him away like a disobedient dog.
     I grabbed my phone out of my purse and checked the time. It was half past eleven, which meant that Cassidy and I were leaving in a half hour. I hoped again that I would catch Marshall before I had to leave.
     I was back at the bar with a glass half full of beer, ranting to Cassidy.
     She awed and then slurred drunkly,"I'm sorry, G, maybe you'll see him again tonight."
    "We only have about ten minutes left before our limo gets here. I doubt I'll see him again."
     I pursed my lips and they dropped at the corners in sadness. I got this vibe from him all night that he may find me attractive, but I would never find out because his manager pulled him away to do his interviews. He was not far. He was only on the opposite side of the white room like he had been almost that entire night, surrounded by men with cameras and microphones.
     "But maybe-" Cassidy was about to say something before a tall, scrawny man approached us. He had a clipboard and a headset like a professional stage manager.
     "Let's make this quick: which one of you is Geovanni?" he asked rather rudely.
     It felt like the millionth time someone had asked me that. I once again pointed to myself.
     "Here, take this post it." He shoved the post-it note at me and walked away, grumbling harsh words under his breath. Cassidy and I looked at each other oddly.
      "Someone needs a drink," Cassidy laughed.
      "Definitely not you." She stuck her tongue out at me and I did the same in return.
      "What does the note say?" she asked, finishing the last of her drink and pushing it to the side.
      I opened the small note carefully. It read:
"Sorry about ditching you, my manager can be an ass sometimes, and this is the only way I'll be able to tell you this...throwback to 3rd grade. Anyway, I'd love to hang out sometime. Text me when you get a chance :)" with his phone number written neatly at the bottom and signed "Marshall."
     I smiled widely at the note and reread it to Cassidy. She reacted the same way, but instead of staying silent she exclaimed, "Congratulations, G! I'm glad you're gonna be in another relationship!"
"You're not mad? Because you did want him first."
"Eh, there are other fish in the sea. He pretended to have a girlfriend to get me away, so that's a clear sign of rejection." We both laughed.
      Our limo had arrived shortly there after and it took us an hour or so before we finally were home. By the time I was able to rest in bed and drift off to sleep, nearly two hours after the note, it seemed that I forgot to stop smiling.