The Hard Truth About Sunshine

by Sawyer Bennett

"I get that," Connor says, but his voice is firmly non-negotiable. "But I cannot have you treating me like a baby. It makes me feel bad about myself, and I pride myself on my strength. It's what's gotten me through so far."

  Barb steps around to Connor's side, and he turns to look at her. She puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "I don't think Jillian quite knows how to alleviate her fears with you, and I think that's because we don't understand what the fuck is wrong with you. We only know you're going to die from cancer. So maybe if you told us what is going to happen to you, and when, maybe she'll settle down."

  I read her entire little speech to mean, I'm wigged out too but I'm too tough to say that, so I'll put this all on Jillian being a silly worrier.

  I'm glad she said it though, because I've found fear of the unknown is one of the worst kinds of fears, and as of this moment, none of us know if Connor will drop dead on us. I mean... I doubt it. He's mentioned he probably has months, but still... I think he needs to share the details with us so we can all relax.

  "What do you want to know?" Connor asks Jillian, completely buying Barb's cock-and-bull story that Jillian is the worrier. He doesn't notice as Barb sidles a bit closer to him so she doesn't miss a thing he might say.

  Jillian's eyes cut to Barb. I see a flash of annoyance before they come back to Connor. "Fever... being tired... pale... in my mind, that makes me think it's the cancer doing this to you."

  "Don't forget about the diarrhea I've had all day," Connor says with a grimace. "It could simply be food poisoning from those breakfast burritos we ate this morning."

  "What's your prognosis?" I ask Connor, cutting to the chase.

  "You mean--when will I die?" Connor asks me, and I can tell he's getting angry. For a kid who has been completely open, he's bowing his back up big time now that we're pressing for more details. I'm smart enough to understand that he doesn't like us worrying, and that's what's pissing him off.

  "When... how..." I say with a shrug. "You know... details."

  "You're a morbid son of a bitch," Connor mutters, but he casually pushes his hands down into his pockets and looks around at us. Finally, he says, "My original diagnosis was stage four alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma. That was when I was fifteen after I noticed a lump in my hand. They cut it out, did a CT scan and PET scan, and found that it had metastasized into some of my lymph nodes. I was started on aggressive chemotherapy and some radiation. The lymph nodes shrunk, and I was hesitantly placed into remission. But then four months ago, on a follow-up PET scan, it was found that the cancer had spread to my liver and lungs. They tried more chemo but it had no effect, so they stopped all forms of treatment."

  I imagined what Connor felt like when the doctor told him he was terminal. That there was no hope. That his life would be over soon.

  Was it the same feeling I had when I first regained consciousness and understood I'd lost part of my hand and might lose my leg? Or maybe when they told me they couldn't save my leg, and I knew I was going to permanently lose a major part of myself?

  I search back, trying to recall exactly how bad I felt upon hearing those words, but for the life of me, I can't recall it. I don't know if I was shocked or angry. Sullen or withdrawn. Bitter or accepting. I don't remember anything about how I felt in those moments when such terrible news was dropped in my lap. Yet, I can't really imagine it was anything like what Connor probably felt.

  All those weeks in group therapy when I was so angry for being there, refusing to believe that these people's problems could outweigh my own, seem trite now. I realize now that out of all of us, Connor has the shittiest rap. He's a young, vibrant, smart, and funny kid. He's someone who deserves to live.

  I feel the heavy weight of despondency press down upon me--purely for Connor's benefit--and I have to admit to myself--to the very selfish asshole these people first came to know--that I have no clue what real hopelessness is like. I'm ashamed I never gave that kid credit for his trials until now.

  Barb clears her throat and asks, "And I assume that the cancer will continue to spread and that's what makes you terminal?"

  Connor nods. "It will keep growing. My liver won't be able to clean out toxins, my lungs will be impaired. Cancer can affect appetite and nutrition. Eventually, my body will just shut down on me."

  Jillian gives a small cry, and I turn to see tears streaming down her face. I immediately reach out and pull her to me, and she buries her face in my chest. She takes in a ragged breath and lifts her face to look back at Connor. "Will you be in pain?"

  It happens so fast that I'm not sure anyone caught it, but I saw the flash of deception in his eyes. He gives Jillian a smile and shakes his head. "No way. It will come on fast, and pain meds will control everything."

  Total damn lie.

  "How soon will all this happen?" Barb asks, and I'm taken aback by the desolation I see in her eyes. She really has become fond of Connor. From what little I can tell, he may be the only person in the world she cares for.

  After taking in a deep breath, Connor lets it out in exaggerated fashion through a forced smile and says, "Well, I'm positive it won't be tonight or for many nights. I can assure you that I'm fine."

  "How long?" Barb presses him, and Connor's smile slides.

  "Probably a few months," he admits in a soft voice, and Jillian's face goes back into the middle of my chest where I can feel her tears soaking through the cotton of my t-shirt.

  Barb suddenly turns from our group and mutters, "I'm going to go take a shower."

  But she doesn't turn fast enough that I miss the light film of moisture covering her eyes. Asshole Christopher would have called her out on it, but newly reformed and smitten Christopher lets her go with without a harsh word.

  Absolutely no harsh words for any of them for showing a weakness such as sorrow or empathy, because fuck if I don't feel like I want to cry myself right now.

  Chapter 30

  "Is it too weird to ask if you'll come over and meet my parents after we get back?" Jillian asks as we walk north up the beach back to where we left Barb and Connor.

  Her right hand is in my whole left hand. While I'm not ashamed to hold her with the half hand, I can feel every detail of her skin against mine this way. I give a slight squeeze that in no way lets her know the enormous impact her request makes upon me. Jillian and I haven't talked about what will happen when we get back to Raleigh. I think we've both been under the assumption that we'd continue to see each other, but I'll be the first to admit that I had some doubts.

  How could I not after having had so many loved ones turn their backs on me?

  "Think they'll totally blame me for inducing you to run off behind their backs?" I ask her.

  "No, they completely blame me for that," she says with a laugh.

  "Then count me in," I tell her as we walk along the shoreline. It's getting very close to sunset, and we want to get back to share that with Connor.

  We'd been on Cannon Beach almost all day. After a quick breakfast of Pop-Tarts and orange juice at our campsite, we'd donned bathing suits covered with layers since the morning was chilly. As the day heated, the layers came off, but only Connor ventured into the chilly water. He seemed fine this morning, although he said his stomach still hurt a little, but at least Jillian and Barb didn't hover over him.

  We pitched our blankets and hunkered down on the beach about a hundred yards from Haystack Rock with a cooler full of food, sodas, and beer. We people watched, played Frisbee, went for walks, and poked around in tidal pools. We napped after lunch, and then Connor had braved the cold water for a bit. I made out with Jillian when Connor and Barb went for a walk down the beach, and then we napped some more in the afternoon. Dinner was sandwiches of bologna and cheese along with potato chips right out of the bag. Barb and I drank a few beers while Jillian and Connor drank bottled water.

  It was a great day.

  Connor got to see the Pacific Ocean. Very soon, he's going to watch the sun sink into that same ocean.

  The beach starts
to get heavy with people coming out to see the sunset. Jillian and I plop down on our blankets next to Barb and Connor, the four of us sitting in a row facing the horizon. I'm worn out and beat from spending all day on a windy beach, but I also feel loose and relaxed as we take a moment to appreciate nature's beauty with our hands held up over our eyes to shield us from the brightness.

  We watch in silence as the swollen, golden sun starts to drop lower and lower in the sky, until it's just hovering right over the edge of the world. It turns the blue waters orange with pink-tinged waves, and it starts to dull a little the lower it falls, allowing us to drop our hands from over our brows.

  "There's not anyone in the world I'd want to see this with other than the three of you," Connor says softly, but his words carry true over the waves and wind to hit our ears. All three of us turn our heads to the right to look at him. He knows we're staring at him, so he turns to level us with an impish grin. "What? Can't I get sentimental?"

  None of us say anything, and I can't speak for Jillian and Barb, but I've got a fucking lump in my throat so I can't say anything. Connor grins bigger, knowing he just punched us all in the feels, and turns his head to look back at the approaching sunset. I can feel Jillian turn her head back from my left, but I watch as Barb just stares at Connor for a long moment. Then she slowly raises her arm and drapes it around his shoulders. Leaning over, she places her head on his shoulder and mutters, "You're okay, kid."

  Connor brings his hand across his chest and pats Barb on top of the head. "I know."

  Jillian scoots closer to me. I wrap my arm around her in turn, pulling her tight. Looking down at her, I see her face is happy and sad all at once from the poignant moment we're sharing right now. It's the culmination of our journey, the end to what we started. While we all agreed to keep going on this trip, this is really what we came for. The big bucket-list item that Connor wanted to knock off.

  The bottom of the sun seems to rest for just a moment on the horizon. While it feels like it's taken forever for it to get to this moment, now it starts to sink swiftly from our view. The waters turn darker until the orange and pink bleed together and turn red. The skyline above the sun is still light blue but tinged with dark purple as the night starts to come.

  Within just a few minutes, the sun seemingly drops off the face of the earth until it's completely gone from our sight and nothing's left but a slight golden glow along the horizon.

  I can't help but compare this to a boy named Connor, who will one day soon fade away from this world, but because he's become so influential to our group, I'm sure his glow will remain behind within us. I smile internally at myself over the fucked-up, mushy stuff I'm feeling right now, but it's like when Jillian opened the doors on my emotions, they started to run rampant.

  Eventually, the sky darkens completely, turning from purple to black, and it's one of those amazing nights when the stars seem to hang so low you can reach out and touch them. I pull Jillian with me as I lay down on the blanket and look up at them. Barb and Connor also lay back, and we silently stare up at the night sky.

  Lost in thoughts about life and death and the frailty of it all.

  "Timon," Connor says in a raspy, nasally voice. "Ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?"

  I have no clue what the fuck he's talking about, so I raise my head a little to look over at him. He's just lying on his back, hands tucked behind his head with a silent grin on his face. I see Barb grinning too.

  "Pumbaa... I don't wonder, I know," Jillian says in what sounds like a Brooklyn wise-guy accent. "They're um... fireflies... that got stuck up in that big, bluish-black thing."

  Huh?

  Barb snickers and Connor snorts, but he replies, "Oh, I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away."

  "Pumbaa, with you, everything's gas," Jillian says in the same accent.

  Connor, using his regular voice, adds, "That was totally true with those stomach issues I was having yesterday."

  Jillian's entire body jerks up as she starts to laugh, and Connor joins in. I look at Barb and she's laughing too, but more silently than the other two.

  "What the hell are you guys talking about?" I ask in confusion, and that makes Jillian laugh harder until she rolls on her side and brings her knees to her chest.

  Connor is laughing so hard that he farts, proving his stomach isn't quite settled down yet, and Barb laughs even louder.

  "What?" I ask in frustration.

  Barb sits up and tilts her head to look down at me. "It's like only a famous quote from one of the best movies ever."

  "Can't be that famous," I retort.

  Jillian sits up, pulling on my hand so I sit up too. "It's from The Lion King. You've never seen that movie?"

  "Nope," I tell her, but I readily admit. "I've heard of it, obviously."

  "How can you have not seen that movie?" Connor asks as he joins the rest of us in sitting up. "I thought every living being on the earth had seen that movie."

  "Sorry, buddy," I say, disabusing him of that notion. "I didn't grow up in a household where Disney movies were a normal occurrence."

  "That sucks ass," Connor says. "When we get back, we're going to have movie night at my house. We have a home theater and a real movie popcorn maker. It will be awesome."

  "I'm in," Jillian says with a laugh as she settles in close to me again, winding her arm through mine.

  "That means Christopher's in," Connor says with delight. He gives Barb a playful push on her shoulder. "You up for a Lion King movie extravaganza?"

  Barb shakes her head and grimaces. "Sorry, kid, but do I look like someone who would watch a Disney movie?"

  "Well, you clearly did at some point in your life because you recognized the line from the movie," Connor retorts.

  "So I saw it when I was kid," Barb says with a smirk. "That was back when I still believed in Santa and thought the boogeyman was just a made-up thing."

  I think Barb is teasing Connor, because her tone is light and she's got a mischievous look on her face, and trust me... that's a look that's so at odds with her nature that it stands out. But her words point out a scary truth about Barb. She was a young girl that had her innocence brutally destroyed. She went from Disney to Steven King in a nanosecond.

  I glance at Connor, seeing he's horrified by what she said, and more importantly, at how he made her go there with his own teasing about Disney.

  "Barb," he croaks, his voice heavily laden with guilt. "I didn't mean--"

  "Relax, kiddo," Barb says as she pats him on his knee a few times. "But while I appreciate the offer, sitting around watching Disney movies just isn't my thing, you know?"

  Connor nods, but I can see he's uncertain as to whether he's offended Barb or flayed open some raw wounds.

  Barb pushes off the blanket, stands, and brushes a bit of sand from her pants. "I'm going to head back to the campground."

  "I'll come with--" Connor says as he starts to stand up, but she holds a palm out to stop him.

  "No offense," she says in a clipped voice even though she graces us with a small smile. "But I'm all kumbayah'ed out. Need some alone time."

  She turns and marches across the sand toward the main road that runs parallel to the beach. Our campground is on the other side, about a quarter mile north of where we are now.

  Connor slouches back down and lets out a sigh.

  "Hey, don't worry about her," I tell him good-naturedly. "Remember, she's more bitch than human. She'll come around though."

  Connor tries to put on a brave face, but Jillian manages to knock it right back off again. "No, she won't."

  "Pardon?" I ask as I turn to look at her.

  "She won't come around," Jillian says in a sad voice. "It's too much for her."

  "What do you mean?" Connor asks with some trepidation.

  "She cares for you," Jillian tells him pointedly. "But she's fragile. She can't continue to build a friendship with you knowing you're going to die. She doesn't have it in
her."

  Connor's head snaps toward the western part of the beach where Barb had headed. "But... she's the toughest one out of all of us."

  "No, she's really not," I say, agreeing with Jillian's assessment.

  While Jillian and I are down with movie nights at the McCann household so we can spend time with Connor before he dies, Barb isn't going to get on board with that. She's protecting herself because she doesn't want the pain that his death will cause her. I guarantee when we get back to Raleigh, Barb will be in the wind. We'll never see her again.

  Chapter 31

  My eyes pop open, and I'm instantly alert and awake. I've always been an early riser and that was only reinforced into me when I was in the Marine Corps. The pressure on my bladder spurs me into action, and I extricate myself from my sleeping bag and get my prosthetic on. In the pre-dawn light, I see Jillian and Connor are dead asleep in their respective sleeping bags. We'd stayed up late last night on the beach, gazing at stars and talking.

  It was that easy type of conversation you have with friends who know all your weaknesses and forgives you for them without a second thought. I've never had friends like Jillian and Connor before. Soon, it will only be Jillian.

  Outside of the tent, the cool air causes me to shiver and I rub my arms briskly. It had dropped down into the fifties last night, but our sleeping bags kept us nice and toasty. I'm not sure how Barb fared in the SUV as she only has a blanket in there, but she seemed fine when we walked into the campsite last night. She was on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin, fast asleep, when I'd peered in the window last night.

  After walking to the community bathrooms, I take a long piss, my bladder sighing with contentment as it empties. I growl at myself for not grabbing my toiletry kit as I could have knocked out a thorough scrubbing of my teeth at least. I run my tongue over them, thinking they feel vaguely furry. Still, even a morning-breath kiss with Jillian is better than any other kiss. I smile at myself in the mirror and head out of the restrooms.

  I think I'll go ahead and get everyone up so we can get an early start to the day. We're going to head straight to San Francisco. Last night as we sat on the beach, we'd thrown about the possibility of staying a day in Portland, but ultimately decided against it because seeing the San Diego Zoo is high on our agendas. Given the fact that Connor's parents are anxious to have him back, we decided to hit San Francisco for a day and then head to San Diego for a day at the zoo. From there, Connor decided Vegas needed to be on his bucket list, and Jillian and I laughingly agreed to it.