Bright Side

by Kim Holden

  So I don’t watch.

  Tonight I can’t bring myself to be anywhere else but in this room with her, because I feel like I don’t have much time left. I don’t want to disturb her, so I sit on the sofa across the room from the bed. The darkness shields her from my eyes, but I can still feel her. I lean my head back and close my eyes, taking it all in. I don’t know how long I sit there, an hour or more, before I decide I should go to bed and try and get some rest. When I reach the door though, I can’t. I know I won’t be able to breathe if I leave this room. So I walk over to the bed and slowly pull the covers back and slide in beside her. The king-size bed is gigantic compared to the twin we’re used to sharing. There are feet of space between us.

  “You’re not going to sleep all the way over there, are you?” Her voice is sleepy and hoarse.

  It makes me smile and the anxiety that’s been building in my chest the past few hours disappears. “How’d you know I was in here with you?”

  She laughs. “You’re not as stealthy as you think you are, Keller Banks. You’d make a horrible burglar. Or ninja. Don’t change your major again.”

  I inch my way to her side of the bed and press my entire body against the back of hers and wrap my arms around her. She’s warm. I could live in this moment forever. I kiss the back of her head twice. “Good night, Katie.”

  “Good night.”

  It’s quiet and I’m almost certain she’s drifted back off to sleep.

  “Keller?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for coming in. I hate sleeping alone.” She intertwines her fingers with mine, and raises them to her mouth to kiss the back of my hand.

  “I love you, babe.” I have to get the words out before I get any more choked up than I already am.

  “I love you, too, baby … I love you, too, baby.” She says it twice so I don’t have to ask her to say it again.

  I really do love her. So. Much.

  Tuesday, December 20

  (Keller)

  We’re almost done loading Stella’s things into Katie’s car. (She volunteered her car for the trip because, although she does love my beanbags, she didn’t think they’d be comfortable for several hours of ass time. Her words, not mine.) We can’t take much with us because there’s not much room at my place back home, but Stella will have everything she needs.

  Katie’s helping Stella feed Miss Higgins. They gather her cage and everything else that goes along with caring for a turtle. Jesus, it’s like moving a goddamn menagerie instead of a solitary, small turtle. Let’s just say Miss Higgins has got it good. She may be the most high maintenance turtle in history.

  I’m making a final walk through of the living room to make sure Stella hasn’t left anything behind that I know she’ll miss later.

  “Keller.” My father’s voice startles me. He clears his throat. It’s the same formal throat clearing that precedes everything he says to me. “Can I have a word with you before you go?”

  I know where this is going and I’m not in the mood for an argument today. He’s going to ask me to come with him to my mother’s office because that’s where she feels the most powerful. And because he’s just the errand boy, he’ll clam up when we step through the door, and she’ll proceed to tell me everything I’m doing wrong. I’ll try to defend myself. She’ll raise her voice and try to intimidate me into seeing things her way. I’ve been through this a million times.

  Like I said, I’m not in the mood. “Dad, no offense, but I know having a word with you and Mother talking at me are the same thing. So, no thanks. Not today.”

  He clears his throat again. “This isn’t about your mother, son. This is about Kate.”

  Up to this point I’ve kept my back to him, but I turn to face him when I hear her name. I can’t not react to her name. “What about Katie?”

  More throat-clearing.

  “Just say whatever it is you have to say, Dad.”

  He looks me hard in the eyes, but there’s a softness that he reserves only for Stella. He’s a sucker for Stella. “Kate’s very sick, isn’t she?”

  I nod. I haven’t told my parents about Katie’s illness, but my father’s around sick people enough to know one when he sees one. And he’s observant.

  He releases a breath. “I was afraid of that. What’s her diagnosis?”

  I’m reduced to one-word answers, because I don’t want to break down in front of him. “Cancer.” I hate that fucking word.

  “Is she being treated?” His question is clinical, but the softness in his eyes hasn’t changed.

  Again one word is all I can spare. “Terminal.”

  He nods. “I see. How much time?”

  I know what he’s asking but I don’t want to answer. I hold up one finger instead.

  “One year?” He guesses. He knows he’s being optimistic.

  I shake my head.

  He exhales and nods again. “One month.” It’s not a question.

  We stare at each other for a few moments while it sinks in.

  Just then Katie walks in carrying Miss Higgins in her cage. She’s all smiles, oblivious to the fact that we’re talking about her. “I think Miss Higgins is ready for a road trip, Keller. She just had a big breakfast, and Stella says she’s all out of reptilian car sickness medicine, so you’re going to have to take it easy on the drive home, dude. Miss Higgins’s delicate digestive system is in your hands. You up to the challenge?”

  It was funny, but I can’t bring myself to laugh.

  My father’s just looking at her. His eyes are still soft with sadness, but there’s another thing; a look of admiration, as a small smile lights his face. He turns to me and shakes my hand. “Take care of them, Keller.”

  I nod and swallow hard because it’s not a loving sendoff, but this is perhaps the first time I feel like my father has addressed me as an equal, as a man. “I will.”

  He nods in return. “Call if you need anything.”

  “We’ll be fine, Dad, thank you.”

  We leave without saying goodbye to my mother.

  Thursday, December 22

  (Kate)

  I said good bye to Pete earlier today. He was uncomfortable and that was hard because I hate being the cause of heavy feelings in anyone, especially someone I care about. He’s going back home until spring semester picks up again mid-January.

  He told me he’d see me then.

  He won’t.

  We both know that. He just didn’t know what else to say. I told him that I’m going to miss him.

  We hugged.

  Clayton helped me box up the last of my things that I’d left in my dorm room and he put them in the back of my car for me because I couldn’t lift them myself. This is the first time I’ve actually been embarrassed by my illness. Turning into a big pussy is humiliating.

  I’m trying not to get sad about this chapter of my life ending, but that’s hard when I know Clayton’s leaving soon, too. He’s going home to spend a month with his family and then move to L.A. to be with Morris. I’ll miss him. And I know this is hard for him, helping me, but I didn’t have the heart to ask Keller to do it. Keller has enough on his plate right now and I don’t want to add to the stress by checking another thing off my final to-do list. Everything just feels so final now. We’ve gone so quickly from firsts to lasts in this relationship that it doesn’t seem fair to burden him with this.

  Sunday, December 25

  (Kate)

  “Merry Christmas, Kate.” Audrey’s voice has always sounded like an angel’s voice to me, even over the phone. As a little kid I remember going over to Gus and Audrey’s house and looking forward to seeing her because she always talked to me. And she was nice when she did it. My mother didn’t talk to Grace or me much and when she did she usually yelled. Audrey never yelled. I always thought that if I ever met an angel, she would sound just like Audrey.

  “Merry Christmas, Audrey. Did you and Gus eat cinnamon rolls on the beach this morning?”

  “We did.” She�
��s smiling, I hear it. Gus got home yesterday. She’s missed him while he’s been on tour. He always makes her smile.

  Cinnamon rolls on the beach is a Hawthorne Christmas morning tradition. Every Christmas morning, before sunrise, Gracie and I would walk next door in our pajamas to Gus and Audrey’s house. Gus was always awake because he was too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve. Gus loves Christmas. So we would all wake Audrey up and she’d put a pan of cinnamon rolls in the oven. When they were done she’d take us out on the beach in front of their house and spread out a blanket. We’d all sit down and eat, and we weren’t allowed to open presents until the pan was empty. We did it every year. Those are my favorite Christmas memories. I remember that Gracie and I were always sad to go home after that. Our mother wasn’t one to rise much before noon on any given day, and Christmas was no exception. She was never awake when we got home, and she never made us cinnamon rolls.

  “I missed being there with you,” I say. “I did bake cinnamon rolls for Keller and Stella this morning though, and made them eat the whole pan before we opened presents. Slight rule change: we didn’t go outside. Ten degrees is kinda hardcore.”

  She laughs. “Celebrating inside is probably best for Minnesota. I’m glad you could share the tradition with them.”

  “Me too.” I want to share everything with them. Little things like this are important.

  “Have you talked to Gus yet today? I can go get him. He’s down in the theater room watching a movie while I make dinner.”

  “That’s okay; I talked to him earlier for a few minutes. I’ll catch up with him later tonight. I wanted to talk with you, Audrey.”

  “Of course dear, what is it?” Audrey has always composed herself extremely well. She wears her heart on her sleeve like Gus, but she’s better at keeping her shit together. I bet that she’s trying so hard to sound simply concerned and not scared right now.

  “Remember how we talked about me coming home when it gets to be too much?”

  “Of course, yes.”

  “I think it’s almost time.” I’m trying to fight back tears, because I really don’t want to cry. This is reality, and this is just the next step.

  She takes a deep breath. “Okay sweetie. Okay … Yes … ” Her mind must be reeling, because this isn’t Audrey. Audrey never pauses or stumbles over thoughts or words. She always knows what to say.

  A fist is clenching inside my chest because I’m beginning to fear that maybe she doesn’t know what to do with me. Maybe I’m asking too much.

  But she rebounds. “Sweetie, I’m going to put you in the guest room so you’ll have your own bathroom. Email me your doctors’ names and contact information. I want it for both your doctor here, as well as the one you’ve been seeing in Minnesota. I’ll set up a conference call with both of them immediately and make sure I have everything I need here at the house to care for you properly. Make sure you include a complete list of any medications you’re currently taking. I know you’re allergic to penicillin, but if you have any other allergies I don’t know about, include those too. Health insurance information would also be helpful. Do you have any other special requirements? Anything else I can put in your room? If so, let me know. I’ll make sure everything’s ready when you arrive.”

  Don’t know why I doubted her. That’s Audrey. She’s fucking Wonder Woman. “Thank you, Audrey. I think I’ll be there around New Year’s, if that’s all right?”

  “Kate, you’re one of my children. You know that, sweetie. I wish with all my heart that you were coming back under different circumstances, but you are always welcome in my home. I would move heaven and Earth for you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, very much.”

  “I’m giving you a big hug through the phone now. Can you feel it?” She’s always been a hugger.

  I can feel it.

  I don’t have the heart to tell Keller I talked to Audrey. He knows this has been coming. When it does it will crush him. I’m not looking forward to that. At all. I would tough it out here if I could, but I can’t do that to him or Stella. I know the end is going to be ugly and demanding on everyone. I honestly don’t want to ask anyone to be there with me through it, but if you can’t ask your mom, who can you ask? I’ve always thought of Audrey as my mom. Janice may have been my mother, but Audrey is my mom. Even still, this is the first day of my entire life that I wish she wasn’t. Someone like her shouldn’t have to go through this.

  Wednesday, December 28

  (Kate)

  I’m angry today. I wish I wasn’t. Goddammit, I wish I wasn’t … but I am.

  I saw Dr. Connell this morning. He looked at my charts, my recent lab results, and then to me. He didn’t have his poker face on. I called him on it, because frankly at this stage in the game I’d like to see just one fucking person that didn’t look at me with pity in his eyes.

  Keller’s trying so damn hard not to, but even he slips sometimes.

  So, yeah. I’m angry today.

  Really.

  Fucking.

  Angry.

  I’ve been yelling at God in my head all morning. Why do I have to be the one who’s dying? Why can’t it be someone else? Someone I’ve never met who lives far away?

  I know that sounds awful, but it’s how I feel today. And that’s why I can’t go back to Keller’s yet. Keller and Stella don’t deserve to see or feel this kind of anger.

  I’m leaving Saturday to go back to San Diego. I bought my ticket yesterday and told Keller last night after Stella went to bed. To say he didn’t take it well would be an understatement. He broke apart into a million pieces in front of me. He tried so hard not to. Watching him fall apart like that, knowing that I was the one responsible for creating that kind of devastation in the man I love with all my heart ... yeah, I hated myself.

  So, right now, I’m sitting in my car in the parking garage of some random business in downtown Minneapolis and I don’t know what to do next.

  And when I don’t know what to do next, I talk to Gus. I shouldn’t call him angry, but I’m out of ideas and if I don’t do something in the next five minutes, I’m going to fucking lose it. So I call him. He answers on the first ring.

  “Bright Side, how’s it hangin’?”

  “I don’t want to die.” I say, defiantly.

  “Bright Side, what?” He’s confused.

  Of course he’s confused. No one starts a conversation like that.

  I repeat, “I don’t want to fucking die.”

  “Oh, shit, Bright Side.” I hear him take a deep breath, a primer for the conversation that’s about to unfold. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I’m fucking dying, Gus. I don’t want to die. That’s what’s fucking going on.” I hit the steering wheel with my palms. “Goddammit!” I scream. I’ve only ever freaked out on Gus twice in my life, once when I found my mother hanging from the ceiling, and again when Gracie died. Gus doesn’t deserve this, but I know he’ll deal with it better than anyone else would.

  “Calm down, dude. Where are you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sitting in my car in a fucking parking garage in the middle of motherfucking Minneapolis, Minnesota.” That was hostile.

  “Are you by yourself?”

  “Yes,” I snap.

  “You’re not supposed to be driving while you’re on your pain meds.”

  I don’t want his fatherly tone. “I know that.”

  “Are you in danger or hurt?”

  I burst out laughing, surprised that I can’t even laugh without sounding angry. The question is absurd to me though. I’m dying.

  “Bright Side, shut up for a second and talk to me. Do I need to call 911? What the fuck is going on?” He sounds scared.

  I shake my head like he can see me. “No, no. I’m just ... I’m fucking mad, Gus. That’s all.” And at a loss for words because my mind is jumbled up into this bitter, resentful ball. I don’t know what else to say so I repeat myself. “I’m really fucking mad.”

  “
Well shit, by all means, there’s plenty of room at my table for anger.” He gets it. That’s why I called him, after all. “I’ve been dishing out heaping servings of fury for the past month. I feel better knowing I’m not the only one in this whole debacle with some rage issues. So fire away. Fucking give it to me.”

  I do. An explosive, steady stream of expletives flows out of me. I’m cursing it all, shouting out questions, pounding the steering wheel, and wiping away hot, angry tears. Occasionally Gus joins in, yelling affirmations. Sometimes he waits for a pause on my part and takes his turn and sometimes he just steamrolls over the top of me.

  He’s not yelling at me, he’s yelling with me.

  After what could be hours, but is more likely minutes, I stop yelling. In my outburst I’ve lost all sense of time and place. It takes a couple of minutes for my heart rate to slow down and my head to clear. Eventually, my tears stop, and I’m able to take normal breaths. My throat feels tight and my head hurts a little, but I’m calm. On the other end of the line, Gus gets quiet, too. Silence falls between us.

  I know he’s giving me whatever time I need. He’d sit here all day and never say another word if that’s what I needed.

  My voice is raspy when I decide to break the silence. “Gus?”

  “Yeah, Bright Side.” He sounds like himself again. Calm.

  “Thanks.” I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. And now I need to apologize. “Sorry, dude.”

  He laughs. “No worries. You feel better?”

  I can actually smile now. “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Good, me too. I think we should’ve done this weeks ago.”

  “I think I should’ve done it months ago.” I mean it. It felt so good to let it all out.

  “Bright Side, you know I love you all happy and adorable in your little world of sunshine and rainbows, but you’re kinda hot when you’re angry. I dig aggressive chicks. And that was crazy aggressive.”

  He knows I’m going to say it, but I can’t help myself. “Whatever.” I even roll my eyes.