by Curtis Bunn
“You look nice,” I said. “Different, but nice.”
After a few Crown Royals with a splash of Coke, she shared: “I look totally different today, don’t I? I thought I’d let you know what I was working with.”
“A lot, I see. It’s nice, but I had no idea. I enjoyed our conversation.”
“And that’s why I was so interested in seeing you again. You had no idea how I really looked. I was just out to enjoy the weather and we met. But you were interested in me, and not because I was all glammed up. I don’t think I’m all that or anything like that. But I’ve dealt with men who showed right away that their interest in me was about what they saw, not what they saw in me.”
That was the last flashback to our beginning that I had before noticing her pulling up in a black Maxima at the hospital. I could see her smile seemingly lighting up the interior of her car. Her smile always made me smile.
I pulled my bag toward the rear of her vehicle. She popped the trunk, but also exited the car. Seeing her again after so long almost gave me chills. And it warmed my heart at the same time. It was as if she was moving in slow motion and I was transfixed on the pavement, unable to do more than stare at her.
She walked right into my arms, smiling the entire time. “Oh, Calvin,” she said as we hugged. “Where have you been? I can’t believe I’m seeing you now.”
My eyes were closed. I had a couple of serious relationships after Kathy, but nothing that was worth me even maintaining the friendship after it was over. Maya’s mom, Skylar, was the longest relationship I had, and it lasted with me in the wrong way for the wrong reasons. The sweet essence of Kathy lasted with me like a virus for which there was no cure.
We finally, after about a minute, ended the embrace, took a step back and looked into each other’s eyes. I won the bet with myself. She had on heels.
“You look like I remember. And I feel like I used to when I looked at you,” I said.
“Really? How do you feel?”
“Alive,” I said. What irony.
“I like the bald head on you,” she said. “It threw me off when I saw it on television, but you have the right peanut-shaped head for it.”
“Nothing changed, huh? Still think you’re funny.”
“You think you’re funny? I am hilarious. Maybe I’m not funny to you or anyone else, but sure enough to me. I crack myself up.”
I smiled and hugged her again. She hugged me back tightly. I didn’t know if there was a message in her hug, but I took it as one.
“Good to see you—and feel you.”
“Put your bag in the trunk. What are we going to do?”
“This is your town. I’ve been here for a Panthers game once, and that’s about it.”
“OK, well, are you hungry? Let me take you to dinner and tell you about my life.”
And so we went to a placed called Harper’s, across the street from SouthPark Mall, which, amazingly enough, was the one restaurant in Charlotte I had been to. I did not say anything to Kathy about it, though. Didn’t see the point.
“I think we have aged well,” she said as we walked into the restaurant.
“And you have two children, so you really have taken care of yourself.” There was no indication that she had given birth. I didn’t care if there was, but she happened to have managed to keep her weight down.
We were seated after about ten minutes of chatting.
“How have you been able to keep your weight under control?”
“When I am upset, I don’t each much,” she said—her first words she uttered without smiling. “And I’ve been upset a lot.”
I was hardly psychic, but I knew where this was going: the marriage.
“Upset about what?” I had to make myself ask it. I didn’t like giving in to people’s whims. Want to tell me something, just tell me. Don’t drag it out.
“My life in general, my marriage in particular.”
I tried to look surprised.
“Well, marriage can be challenging, I’m told. You can work it out. You just have to be committed to it.”
That was my weak advice for the day. Felt guilty saying words that indicated I supported her marriage when I really did not. But I had no reason to not support it.
“I’m tired of working on it,” she said. “I always could be honest with you. I work on the job, work raising the kids, work on my relationship with my mother. And I have to work with the person who’s supposed to be my soul mate, too? Where is my break, my relief?”
“You’re having it right now; no kids, no husband. Just two old, dear friends catching up over a meal. Priceless.”
She laughed and we ordered our dinner, talked, had dessert and talked some more. “You sure enough ate well tonight,” I said. “You wolfed down that roasted chicken as if you used a straw.”
“Being with you, I’m not upset. I can be myself.”
Our server came over to check on us and removed the plates. “And now I want a coffee,” Kathy said. “Not that I need it to stay up. This one right here (pointing to me) will keep me up.”
The server smiled, and Kathy realized what it sounded like. “No. Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like it did. What I meant is that we haven’t seen each other in a long time and I’ll be thinking about this conversation before I can go to sleep.”
“None of my business,” the server said, and then winked.
“This guy thinks he’s a comedian, with his eavesdropping ass,” she cracked.
Kathy was the easiest person for me to let loose. Part of it was that I trusted her. She was not judgmental with me. She listened and had responses that indicated she wanted to know more. And she trusted me. Kathy was direct by nature, but the things she shared with me were intimate details of her life that were not details someone would entrust to the masses. I respected her for trusting me.
“So, if you’re tired of working on your marriage, what are you going to do?”
“My kids are twelve and ten. It sounds like a cliché to me, but I’d hate for my kids to learn that I hate their father, that he’s boring and a liar. More than that, I don’t want them to not have the family environment.”
That was the first thing she ever said that disappointed me.
“Kathy, if you feel as you say you do about your husband, how can your children benefit from being in a home that has no love? It’s dysfunctional, if I may say so, and I hear it all the time. Makes me crazy.”
“Well, don’t go crazy on me. Not yet anyway. I know what you mean. It’s very awkward. We basically have had separate lives for the last two years. We sleep in separate rooms. They don’t see us showing affection toward each other. I wonder how it’s making them look at relationships.”
“You can believe they notice. They may not say anything, but they notice… But you know and love your kids and will do the best for them. I know that.”
“I can’t even act like I know what I’m doing. I’m hoping they will be fine. The truth is that neither of us can afford to live on our own. Together we can maintain a home. Separate, it gets tough. So, that’s probably the main reason we stay in the same house. But that’s all we share—the house and the kids.”
The look on her face was unfamiliar to me. It made me feel sorry for her.
“In the end, you have to do what you have to do. You look and sound great. So, you’re handling it.”
She got teary-eyed. She used the back of her hand to wipe the corner of her eye. “I’m a little emotional because I did not see this life for myself. When I look at you, well, you remind me of a different time, when my life was carefree and all in front of me. I remember thinking about being happy and in love.
“It shows you that life doesn’t always work out as you planned it to.”
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.”