Seize the Day (17 page)

She was telling me? At least she had a chance to still make her plans a reality.

“Your life isn't over, Kathy. You're young—what?—forty-two? You can turn your life into what you want it to be.”

“I was a housewife for the first nine or ten years we were married. When it went bad, it went truly bad—first he started acting distant, then disappearing on weekends, and finally he wasn't even trying to hide it. It was devastating. I loved him, but it wasn't that. I loved him because he filled a void and he was good to me. But he wasn't the one that took my breath away.

“But he was my husband and I was faithful. I was so faithful that I made sure to lose contact with you for all these years. I knew if I were in contact with you it would threaten or challenge my marriage. I gave up you for him. I gambled on him and lost.”

I wasn't sure how to take that. We had a wonderful relationship when she could not pass on an awesome career opportunity. I understood mostly because I believed what we had could stretch across the miles and we'd be able to sustain the relationship. But I was wrong. Not because I didn't try. I didn't want to admit at the time, but I was able to look back and confirm that Kathy eased her way out of my life. I wasn't sure why at the time. I thought it was all about the distance. That's what I
thought
.

For a few silent moments, I was insulted and mad. But I looked at her from across the table and I saw regret in her face. And I checked my ego. Ultimately, I knew it did not matter.

“In the grand scheme of things, what happened that long ago doesn't really matter. I'm just glad to be here with you now.”

“Wow, you have mellowed out some, I see. I would have figured you'd go off on me. We had something good and I blew it.”

“Long time ago. Life is too short—trust me—to dwell on something that cannot be changed. Here we are…right now…in this moment. That's what it has to be about.”

“See, this is what I need—someone to be positive. I have plenty of girlfriends, and all they say is, ‘Girl, leave that fool.' Or ‘He's ruined your life.' Or ‘It's hard being single out here. Better keep him. At least you have somebody.' I'm not depressed enough to believe any of that helps me.

“And then you come along. It's crazy we're sitting here. I mean, what happened on that bus? I saw the report on TV. But this whole thing is crazy that it happened not even two hours ago and now we're having dinner together.”

“An act of God, on a couple of levels.” And I was so serious. Hardly did I invoke God into my conversations, but I believed in Him, despite not understanding how He could allow terminal cancer to be the last part of my life story.

I didn't understand that, but I did trust in Him.

“I don't remember you being particularly religious,” Kathy said.

“Not openly, no. But I pray, occasionally go to church and believe He is the Man, the Almighty. All this had to be the act of a higher power.

“Think about it: We were going to ride right through Charlotte on the way to Atlanta. But not only did the driver have a heart attack on the highway right here in Charlotte, but I saw him in distress and came to his aid to help him out. God put me on that bus, in that position, in that scenario to ultimately put us together.

“I definitely had planned to contact you over the weekend from Atlanta. But this…just like the drama on the bus. It was like a movie.”

“You're a hero. Anyone who sees that segment on the news would think so. I'm sure that driver thinks so.”

A hero? Never even considered that. Hadn't done anything heroic in my life. I raised my daughter, but I never sought credit for doing something I was supposed to do. Maybe facing life knowing I was going to die was heroic. Maybe.

“You don't think you're a hero?”

“I just did what I was supposed to do—help someone who needed help.”

“See, this is good, talking to you. It's helping me remember everything about you. You were always humble and practical. You're just being yourself. But I will put that news report on Facebook. Watch all the responses you get.”

“I have to tell Maya first. I can't let her find out about it on Facebook.”

“How is she?”

“Worried about her dad.”

“Worried about her dad? Why?”

This was my opportunity to tell Kathy about my cancer. Couldn't do it. Didn't want to do it. And I wasn't sure why.

“You know how kids are. The older you get, the more the roles change, the more they start caring for you and thinking they're in charge. You have that to look forward to.”

“It's better than the alternative.”

“It is. But there are times when I'd rather she was a little girl, around ten or eleven. That's when she was the most mature while still being sweet and innocent.”

I was expecting a response from Kathy, but she was quiet. Her body language changed. She looked down, at the table.

“What's wrong?”

She didn't answer.

“What's going on, Kathy?” came a voice over my shoulder. It was a man's voice, and it was not a pleasant tone. Right away I realized the mistake I made by sitting with my back to the door. This guy could have blasted me and I never would have known what happened.

I slid to my left in the booth to get an angle. I turned and looked up to see the face of a guy who was not happy. I looked back at Kathy and she finally looked up. She didn't speak. She just looked at the man.

“What's going on, Kathy?” he repeated. This time, though, he was looking at me as he spoke.

My instincts kicked in and I went on the defensive.

“Eric, hi. This is my friend… Calvin,” Kathy finally said. It was like she didn't want to say my name.

“What's going on, Kathy?” he said for a third time.

“What's going on with
you
?” I interjected to Eric.

“I'm not talking to you.” He moved toward Kathy's side of the table.

I'd never been considered a punk, and I wasn't a bully, either. But I damn sure was not going to look like one in front of Kathy. I didn't care who he was.

“Well, I'm talking to
you
,” I said with a serious edge.

“Calvin… Eric is my husband's friend,” Kathy said. “Eric, why are you doing this?”

“What am I doing? I just said hello.”

“So it seems to me you should be moving on,” I said. I didn't want to fight and hadn't been in one in decades. But I had enough of this guy posturing as if he was Kathy's guardian.

“This is none of your business,” he responded.

“And it's none of yours,” Kathy said. Her stock in my eyes elevated immediately. She was not going to play the meek role.

“Yeah, OK. Right,” Eric said. “I'm sure this will be interesting to Thomas.”

Thomas was her husband, I figured. When Eric finally left, Kathy turned to me.

“I'm sorry. What are the odds that my husband's best friend would be here, too?”

“Why is he acting like your bodyguard or something? Doesn't he know what's going on with your marriage?”

“I'm sure he does.”

“So what's with all the posturing?”

“Because he's a man and men think they own you, even when they aren't your man. Eric is an egomaniac. That's why he and Thomas are friends—they both think they own the world.”

“So what are you going to do, Kathy?”

“About what?”

“About your life. You're not happy. You're just going to stay there because of money? For the kids?”

“Those are real reasons, Calvin.”

“Real, but not enough to sacrifice your life.”

“Sacrifice my life? I'm not sure it's that deep.”

“Kathy…”

I was about to get really raw with her and tell her she's been silly or, at least naïve. But I toned it down.

“Kathy, you've heard the expression that life is short? Well, believe it. There has to be a way to get out of this. And let me say now that I'm not saying this for me. I'm saying this for you. If you really want a divorce, then you should do all you can to make it happen because you deserve to have a good life. You can't be enjoying life if you're living with a man you detest, as you said.”

“It's easier said than done. I do want a divorce. I've been dishonored and disregarded and…it's just been awful, especially the last two years. I'm over it. But I worry about my kids and being able to provide for them.”

I had $200,000 in the bank from Walter. I planned to leave some of it to Ballou High and to my dad and my daughter and donate to suicide prevention. But I had life insurance that my daughter would receive—$400,000—so I was in a position to really help Kathy. I wanted to help her.

“What if money wasn't a problem? Then what?”

“Well, money isn't everything or the only thing. It's important, though. I have to be able to provide.”

“I hear you. But what if you had the financial resources? What if a bag of money fell into your lap? What would you do then?”

“I don't know. I don't want to be one of those women who uses the kids to punish the father. You're really just punishing the kids because I believe they need both parents in their lives if they can have them.”

“Does that mean you'll stay just for the kids?”

“Why are you asking me this?” she said. She sounded irritated.

“I'm not trying to press you or anything, Kathy. I'm not. I just want you to be happy.”

“You want me to be happy? Then sweep me away from here.”

We laughed, but it was an awkward laugh for me because I knew as soon as I saw her I felt I would love to sweep her away. It was my first thought, actually. But sweep her to where? My funeral?

“You deserve the life you want. You deserve a man who loves and appreciates you. I might as well tell you that I regret not fighting for our relationship. It was ours and it was great. And I let it fade away when you moved, thinking it was the right thing to do. I supported you growing your career. But I should have made more of an effort for us to stay together. I… ”

“Me, too. It wasn't just you. I let my career dictate my life and ended up quitting my job when I got married because Thomas insisted. I gave up the career that I left you for. Stupid.”

“Don't call it stupid. You made the decision based on what you felt at that time in your life. It is what it is. I just don't want you to be unhappy the rest of your life.”

Her expression said, “Kiss me.” That's the way I took it, anyway, and I was mesmerized, so much so that she had to snap me out of it.

“Calvin?”

“There's so much I want to tell you,” I said.

“So tell me.”

I wanted to tell her that I never stopped loving her, that I wanted to take her with me to Atlanta…but the fact that I was dying kept me from saying any of that.

“I will…in time. This won't be the last time I see you, will it?”

“I hope not. It's really good to see you. You look great. I like the bald head. Sexy. Oops. I guess as a married woman I shouldn't say that. But to hell with it; it's true.”

I didn't know how to take that. I mean, for a while, I was so immersed in the conversation and just being around Kathy that I didn't think about cancer. That didn't happen often. But her compliment made me think about how sick I was and how crazy this whole thing was.

There was no physical evidence of my situation. But I knew I had an expiration date on my life, and that was sobering beyond words.

W
e walked to her car from the restaurant. I looked up at the sky. It was filled with stars.

“Been a hell of a day,” I said.

“And a beautiful night,” Kathy said.

“Can I kiss you?” It just came out.

“Please.”

I leaned in and kissed my old girlfriend, the only woman I ever loved. It felt like the sun came out.

When our lips finally parted, I looked into her eyes—and then turned away. I thought she would be able to see the truth through my eyes.

“Where are you staying?”

“There's a Crowne Plaza down Tyvola Road, on Westpark, about five minutes away, according to the website. It looks decent. I'll get up in the morning and head to Atlanta. But I'll think about you before I go to sleep.”

We hugged and I felt love through her embrace.

“Let's go,” she said.

On the drive to the hotel, I felt sorry for myself. I had reconnected with the woman I wanted…and I could not have her. The reality of it made me sad. And it made me mad that I went from feeling so good to feeling awful in a moment's time. I was angry for allowing the negative to creep into my psyche.

As we wove our way to the hotel, happiness and sadness alternately covered my mood. I hid it from Kathy, smiling at her when she glanced at me. It was hard to fake it, though.