Free I'll Be Seeing You by Lurlene McDaniel

don’t,” he whispered. “Can I touch your hair?”
    She gulped. “Okay.”
    His fingers moved upward until they stroked the tips of her thick, dark hair. He wound strands around his hand, tugging them gently, tenderly. He rolled long clusters between his thumb and fingers, as if testing the texture. As if tasting it with his sense of touch. He reached higher, combed his fingers through the thickness, and said, “Very soft. I figured it would be.”
    Her breath caught in her throat and she could scarcely breathe. Tears stung her eyes. She longed to have him kiss her. If only … 
if only
.
    He withdrew his hand and brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed deeply. “Smells like flowers. And sunshine.” He turned his face toward her, and she touched the corners of the bandages on his eyes. They were the barrier that held him prisoner, yet protected her. “I’ve noticed that scent every time you’ve come into my room. I’ve wondered if it was your hair or some perfume.”
    “New shampoo. The ad campaign said it would drive guys wild,” she joked, hoping to make him laugh and break the tension.
    He smiled. “Funny girl. But you don’t always have to make a joke.”
    Humor was the only way she knew of dealing with intense emotional moments. “I’ve got to go.” She stepped backward.
    “I’ll be seeing you, pretty Carley.”
    She winced because his words had stung. “Goodbye, Kyle.”
    She hurried next door, where her mother looked up from the suitcase she was packing. “There you are. I wondered where you ran off to.” She paused and eyed Carley narrowly. “Are you all right? You look like you’re crying.”
    “I’m fine, Mom. I was just saying goodbye.”
    Her mother shook her head, bemused. “You never cease to amaze me. You’ve always said you hated hospitals, and now you’re crying because you have to leave this one. I’d have thought you’d never wanted to see the inside of this place again.”
    “I don’t, Mom. Call the nurse and tell herI’m ready for the wheelchair ride downstairs.” She turned to the mirror and stared at the twisted half of her face, then jerked her hair back into a ponytail. Suddenly she didn’t want anything to obstruct her true image, her real self. She didn’t want to forget that what Kyle had made her feel was an illusion. She would never be normal. Or pretty. She mustn’t ever forget.
Never!
    At home Carley moped around the house for the rest of the afternoon, unable to shake a case of the blues. She missed the routine of the hospital. Most of all, she missed Kyle. The next morning Janelle asked, “You want a ride to school? Jon’s picking me up.”
    “I’ll catch the bus,” Carley said. “The sooner I get back into my regular routine, the better.”
    “Mom wants me to take you to PT tomorrow afternoon. Trouble is I have ensemble practice every day after school. State competition is in March, and if we don’t practice every day, we’ll never get a superior rating.”
    “I can drive myself.”
    “Tell that to Mom.”
    “I’m telling you, I can drive. There’s nothing wrong with my right foot, and that’s the one that controls the car.”
    “You’ll have to clear it with Mom,” Janelle said.
    “How will you get home if I persuade her?”
    “Jon will bring me.”
    “I forgot about lover boy.”
    “Be nice. I’ll give up ensemble practice on the days you have PT if Mom says you can’t drive yourself.”
    “You shouldn’t have to do that.”
    Janelle shrugged. “I hate practice.”
    But Carley could tell that her sister really did want to practice. It was her senior year and her final opportunity to earn a superior rating at state chorus competitions. “Let me talk to Mom.”
    At school she felt as she always did—a nonparticipant, on the outside looking in. Her classes weren’t a struggle; schoolwork came easily to her. But blending into the social scenery was something else again. A few kids spoke to her, asked her how her leg was