Chasing Sunsets

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Maybe you don’t have to. Just wait it out. Have fun.” She breathed in deep and did a little spin on the sand. Then she angled her face, empathy marking her expression. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

  “Yes.” Mary Catherine smiled. If only it were that easy. “In everything but love.”

  “Maybe especially in love.” Sami wasn’t giving up. There was a pleading in her voice. Like she was desperate for Mary Catherine to relax her way of thinking. “You told me to visit my old boyfriend when I was in Florida. And look at Tyler and me now.”

  “Sami.” Mary Catherine needed her friend to understand. “I can’t do that to Marcus. Don’t you see? He deserves the sort of love that can live on and on.” She felt tears choking her, making it impossible to speak. She turned to the ocean again and waited.

  Sami came up beside her again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. But you’re just friends. You can at least give that much a chance.”

  “It’s just . . .” She sniffed, still struggling. “I feel more. And I can’t.”

  “Maybe you can.” Sami hesitated. “No one knows the number of their days. I could fall over right here on the sand.” Her words were gentle this time. “I would never regret loving Tyler. Even if we only had today.”

  Mary Catherine nodded. She understood what Sami meant. She really did. It just wasn’t fair to either of them—her or Marcus—to let him think there was a chance. A chance at love and a normal life together. Why let something begin when the ending was already written?

  They’d spent enough time talking about it. Mary Catherine smiled at her friend. “Come on. Let’s get back.” She walked slowly to her things and packed them into her bag. “Besides, I’m not sure he even likes me.”

  “MC, that’s the most ridiculous thing I ever—”

  “Okay, okay.” Mary Catherine laughed and it felt wonderful for the moment to be light again. “Maybe he likes me just a little.”

  Sami made an exasperated sound. “You’ll make plans to get your pilot’s license, but you won’t let yourself fall in love.” Sami gathered her board and her bags. “Maybe just think awhile on your priorities. Okay?”

  “I have.” She grinned. “Conversation closed. But speaking of priorities, is it your turn to vacuum? Because I think it is.”

  They both started giggling and then walked in comfortable silence back to the car. Mary Catherine was grateful for Sami, for a friend who cared and could laugh with her.

  The ride home didn’t include a single mention of Marcus. Mary Catherine was relieved. There really was nothing to say, nowhere the topic could go.

  Not until they were back at the apartment and Mary Catherine was in her room did she close the door and listen to the message from her cardiologist. The man’s secretary had simply advised her to return the call. Her test results were in. Mary Catherine waited, her hands trembling. If only she could put off the news, put it aside and forget about it. Father, I need You . . . I can’t do this without You. She closed her eyes and waited. After a minute or so a feeling of peace came over her. Peace enough to make the call.

  She opened her eyes and tapped the call button.

  A receptionist answered. “Dr. Cohen’s office.”

  “This is Mary Catherine Clark.” She couldn’t shake the feeling that the news would be bad. “I missed a call from your office earlier.”

  “Yes, hold on.” The woman sounded efficient. There was no reading her tone. “The doctor would like to speak to you.”

  “That’s fine.” Mary Catherine dropped on the edge of her bed and waited. The seconds felt like days.

  “Hello? Mary Catherine?” It was Dr. Cohen. He was in his forties. One of the top cardiologists in Los Angeles.

  “Hi. I missed your call earlier.” She paused. “Is it about my test results?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. Not a quick sigh. But the kind that doctors tended to do when the information ahead might be difficult.

  She closed her eyes again. Whatever it is, God, You’re in charge. You know the number of my days. I believe that.

  “Mary Catherine, I’m afraid the results were worse than we expected. Your valve has deteriorated greatly. But more than that, your heart is further enlarged.” He paused. “I shared your results with a few respected cardiologist friends of mine. One in New York. One in Boston.”

  Mary Catherine slid off the edge of her bed to the floor. She brought her legs to her chest and let her forehead rest on her knees. “Okay. Yes?”

  “We all came to the same conclusion. Mary Catherine, I’m afraid we’d like to put you on the heart transplant list. The sooner the better.”

  A black hole seemed to open up in the spot where she was sitting. Darker and darker, blacker and blacker. She could feel herself falling into it and the whole time she was certain of one awful reality. There was no bottom. She would keep falling for the rest of her days.

  Because this was the worst possible news he could’ve told her.

  “Mary Catherine? Do you understand, dear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice was soft and shaky. “So . . . what’s next? What should I do?”

  “We have to have you into the office in the next week or so for a complete checkup. You’ll need more tests and blood work. Then there’ll be a screening exam and some paperwork. All of that before we can get you on the donor list.”

  In the black hole where she was falling, Mary Catherine couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t exhale fully. Like she was drowning in her own bedroom. “You mean . . . you want the surgery soon?”

  “It’s never that easy.” He sounded discouraged by the fact. “Your heart and valve can go on for probably another nine months or a year. Even after your appointment it could be months before we get you on the transplant list. It’s a process. Many people never get a donor, Mary Catherine. I need to be honest.”

  She still couldn’t believe what he was saying. The transplant she’d expected in the years to come was supposed to be a valve replacement. Not a heart transplant. What about Africa? What about helping with the youth center? How was she supposed to get her pilot’s license if she was waiting for a heart transplant?

  “Did you hear me?” The doctor’s words were kind. “I’m so sorry, Mary Catherine. I know this must be a shock to you. Frankly, it was a shock to me. That’s why I sought the other opinions.” He waited a beat. “I’m very, very sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She was still falling, still trying to get a full breath. What about mornings on the beach and swimming with the dolphins?

  “I’ll transfer you back to the receptionist. I’d like you to book the appointment as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mary Catherine couldn’t lift her head, couldn’t do anything but feel herself falling. What about her brand-new job as a graphic designer at Front Line Studios in Santa Monica? She was supposed to be there next year when their first movie hit theaters.

  A heart transplant?

  Sometime before the end of the year?

  Falling . . . falling. Mary Catherine stood and steadied herself on the edge of her bed. Then with her remaining energy she walked to the window and looked at the blue sky. The beautiful Southern California sky. How could this happen?

  She thought about her friends. Now she would have to tell Marcus. Not right away, but sometime soon. She’d have to tell all of them. If only she could stop falling, stop the blackness of the dark hole she’d stepped into. Before the call she’d thought she had till she was thirty. Another seven years at least.

  Suddenly thirty felt like an impossible number. Like a gift.

  Maybe there was some mistake. She felt fine, right? She wasn’t short of breath or struggling with chest pains. People waiting for a heart transplant were very sick. Too weak to get out of bed. Mary Catherine clung to the window frame and thought about her morning, about the feel of Mar
cus’s arm against hers. What about moments like that, God? There would be no time to make a difference, no time for learning the guitar or taking voice lessons.

  She wouldn’t live long enough for any of it. Mary Catherine closed her eyes, but the tears came anyway. The blackness was swallowing up the moment, and still she was falling. Everything was different now. Everything would change. And of course there was something else she would have to give up. The thing she only joked about every now and then and once in a while prayed about. The thing that would absolutely never be possible now.

  Her hundred years.

  23

  LEXY COULDN’T STOP SHAKING.

  It was the morning of her prison tour. Mary Catherine and Marcus were going to pick her up and take her to the prison, an hour away. She stared at her full cereal bowl. She was too scared to eat. Too unsure about what was ahead.

  Why had she agreed to the program? They wouldn’t have given her very long at Eastlake juvie, right? Less than a year, then she’d have been back on the streets. But going to prison? Even a day there would be terrible.

  Prison was the sort of place that took a person in and swallowed them up and never let them see the light of day again. The way prison had done to her mother. Lexy looked at the photo on the wall across from her. She and her mama before the arrest. Lexy stood and walked to the picture. She touched it, running her thumb over their faces. In the photo her mama’s arm was around her shoulders and their smiles were the same. Their eyes, too. The arrest came the next day, an afternoon Lexy thought about all the time. The day her mama was locked up and sent away.

  The last day the two of them had seen each other.

  Lexy might’ve been maybe six in the picture. Her mama, maybe twenty-two. Her mom was beautiful and intelligent. She could remember sitting with her mom on the couch that week and watching TV. America’s Funniest Home Videos, Lexy could still remember. Her mom was laughing and so Lexy had laughed, too.

  When she was little . . . Lexy could remember laughing a lot with her mama. Why had her mom gotten into drugs? She could’ve done something different with her life. So why didn’t she? Lexy stared at the photo and blinked. The reason was obvious. No matter how long she looked at the photograph, no matter how the two of them seemed there on the wall.

  Her mother didn’t love her.

  Lexy was alone after her mama went away. Her grandma tried, but she never knew what was going on in the house. The summer Lexy turned eight was the first time she remembered the neighbor boy locking her in his bedroom and taking advantage of her. He was fourteen. At least she thought so. It had happened too many times since then. The bad all blended together. And none of it would have happened if her mama had been around.

  Mamas are supposed to keep their babies safe.

  Supposed to keep their babies in school and out of gangs.

  Lexy felt her anger rising, taking over her heart and soul. If she had a soul. One day when she had babies, she wasn’t going to leave them. She would move out of the slums to some nice place like Reseda. Lexy’s grandma was from Reseda. Nice town in the San Fernando Valley.

  Gradually a resolve built in her.

  She had prayed to God for help and he’d given her the chance at this program. It was a little late to start wishing she’d served time instead. If she was going to make a change for her own kids one day, then this was the only way.

  The Last Time In program. Whatever happened today, she could deal with it.

  Her grandma’s Bible was open again on the other side of the table. The way it was always open. Hate evil . . . cling to good. That’s what the blond police officer had told her. And then he’d showed up again, right when Dwayne was going to kill her.

  A sick feeling slammed into Lexy’s stomach. Yes, Dwayne was definitely going to kill her. He had wanted to hide out at her grandma’s house that day, but all of a sudden he looked at her like he was the devil himself and he ordered her back outside to the car.

  “I can’t have witnesses, baby. You gotta understand.” That’s what he told her. He said it again and again until they were almost to the car and then out of nowhere there was the blond police officer. Again. Towering and looking like he could take down a whole gang by himself.

  Then the craziest thing Lexy had ever seen in all her life. The cop had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the gun. That wasn’t even possible. Anyone knew people couldn’t just appear out of thin air.

  But that’s what the officer did.

  Even that didn’t scare Dwayne. Lexy thought the cop would shoot her boyfriend right there on the street. That’s when she had shouted out for help from Jesus.

  Lexy didn’t understand it, even still. Didn’t know why she had called out the name Jesus, but something about that moment seemed to change things for the cop. Like he blinked a few times and he took his finger off the trigger. After that Lexy knew he wasn’t going to shoot.

  He was too good for that.

  Hate evil . . . cling to good.

  She was reminding herself when a text came through on her phone. It was from one of the WestKnights. You in or not, baby? You’re mine tonight. Dwayne’s gone. I got next dibs.

  She stared at the text. Just stared at it as the words cut their way through her. Then she texted back without thinking. I’m in.

  She looked at it and her heart felt hard and dead again.

  He sent one last text. Be ready.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. Who was she kidding? She would never have kids if she could help it. But if she did, she’d be just like her mama. How could she not? She was too far into the WestKnights to back out now.

  There would be no babies, no family, no little house in Reseda. No life different from the one her mama gave her. No way to hate evil when it was a part of the air she breathed.

  The time in prison today would not be her last time in.

  It would be a preview.

  24

  MARY CATHERINE COULD’VE WON an Oscar for how she pulled herself together and pretended to be fine. The acting had begun Friday night at the last training session and continued on to this morning when Marcus picked her up for the prison tour.

  She was still in the dark hole, still falling. But she could see the light of day. If she didn’t have a year left, she was going to live her days like never before. Starting today with the Last Time In program. This day wasn’t about her.

  It was about Lexy.

  In the driver’s seat beside her, Marcus seemed somehow aware that she was different. “You sure you’re okay?” He’d asked her twice already. “Sorry. It’s just . . . something in your eyes.”

  A smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I’m fine. Just tired. I was up late reading.”

  “Your pilot’s manual?” He grinned at her.

  “No, a novel.” She told him the name. “My favorite author just had a book come out. I can’t put it down.” At least that much was true.

  “I didn’t know you were into reading.” It sounded forced. Like he was trying to believe her. “Me, too. I love fiction.”

  “You do not.” She laughed and she could feel the doubt in her eyes.

  He raised his brow and pointed to himself. “Are you saying athletes don’t read?”

  “Not many of them.” Even in light of her news, something about being with him made her forget everything but the moment.

  “I take exception to that statement.” He tipped his baseball cap to her. “This Southern gentleman loves to read. For real.” His eyes stayed on the road. “When you finish this book that kept you up so late, I wanna read it.” He glanced at her. “Deal?”

  She was still laughing. “Deal.”

  The mood stayed light as they drove to Lexy’s, but after they picked her up it changed. Lexy seemed completely shut down. More than she’d been the other day. Mary Catherine sat in the front seat next to Marcus a
nd tried. “How were the last few days?”

  Silence.

  “Lexy.” She kept her tone kind. “I know this isn’t easy. But please answer me.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, then tell me about your grandma. How does she feel about you going for the prison tour today?”

  Again nothing.

  Marcus reached over and gently touched Mary Catherine’s leg. Then he shook his head briefly, as if to say it wasn’t worth it. He mouthed the word later. Then he turned the radio to the local Christian station. Francesca Battistelli came on. The song was a new one Mary Catherine loved called “If We’re Honest.” She hoped Lexy was listening to the words.

  Mary Catherine sang along. “ ‘Truth is harder than a lie, the dark seems safer than the light . . .’ ” As the song played out a thought occurred to her.

  The words applied to her own life as much as they applied to Lexy’s.

  Mary Catherine leaned back and let the lyrics wash over her. She loved every song by Francesca. This one and the one that had first given her hope that God might have more time for her than the doctors believed. The song was called “Hundred More Years.” Mary Catherine looked out the window while the song played. Despite her best efforts at ignoring her own situation and trying to make today about Lexy, she felt the tears.

  Life wasn’t fair for her or for Lexy. Neither of them would likely ever have the lives they’d dreamed about. Mary Catherine’s teardrops spilled down her cheeks before she could do anything to stop them. She wiped them with the back of her hand, careful not to catch Marcus’s attention.

  But he must’ve seen, because he reached out and took hold of her hand. He let the song play on, right to the last line . . . If we’re honest.

  Mary Catherine loved how her hand felt in Marcus’s, loved that he would reach out and comfort her when he saw her tears. She smiled at him, no longer embarrassed by her watery eyes. Life was not all laughter and mornings at the beach.