Darla glanced over at Katherine and noticed the envelope still clutched in her hand. "What's that?"
"Huh?" She looked down. "Oh, this. Just another manuscript rejection. That should make you feel better." She attempted a smile.
Darla ignored her comment. "How do you know what it is? You haven't opened it."
"I don't need to. They're always rejections."
"Here, give it to me." Darla snatched the envelope from Katherine. Her hand was so white, the veins showed right through.
"Go ahead then. Gloat."
Darla opened the envelope and pulled out the pile of sample chapters and the cover letter. As she read it, Katherine tried hard to study the snow-capped mountains in the distance rather than hear the depressing news.
"Dear Ms. Samuals," Darla read aloud. "I enjoyed reading your synopsis and sample chapters and am interested in seeing the entire manuscript. Although the book needs polishing, I believe it might have a good chance on the market. If you would please send the entire manuscript to my attention, I will give you pointers on what to change to make it marketable."
Katherine blinked. She hadn't been listening at first, and the last few words were just sinking in. "What?"
"It says she likes your book," Darla announced, smirking at having caught Katherine off guard. "Listen, there's more. 'If you can make the appropriate changes that I recommend, there is a strong possibility we may represent your book'."
"What?" Katherine asked again, shocked. She turned to Darla, who was smiling. "This is a joke, right? Give that to me." She took the letter from Darla and re-read it. It was no joke.
"Oh, my God," Katherine said, her heart racing. "She liked it. She wants to read the rest. I can't believe it!"
"Well, mark one up for Katie. You must have added some personality to it after all."
Katherine ignored Darla's comment and re-read the letter, her eyes wide in disbelief. She looked up at Darla and their eyes met, one set smug, the other excited, then she returned her attention to the pages before her. Along the margins of the sample chapter pages were comments, questions, and suggestions in red ink meant to guide her manuscript toward publication. She fingered through them, anxious to absorb them all at once. This was one step closer to publication. One step closer than she'd ever been before. She raised her eyes to Darla again, brown eyes usually so calm and reserved, now sparkling with excitement.
"I can't believe it. After all this time," Katherine said.
"Well, believe it. The proof's right there. You may turn into a writer after all."
Katherine shook her head at Darla's words, but a smile still held on her lips. That was as close to a compliment as Darla would give. She stood, suddenly eager to get up to her office and begin revising.
"I'm going back up to the house. Are you coming?"
Darla shook her head, staring off at the water. "No. I'll stay here a while longer."
Katherine turned to leave, but remembered about Darla's bad day and turned back to her. She looked so lonely there on the rocks, tucked inside the bulky jacket. "Are you sure?" Katherine asked, feeling torn between Darla and her manuscript.
Darla waved her hand as if to swat her away. "You go on. I'll be okay."
With that, Katherine headed back up the beach to the house and her computer.
***
Denise and the kids were ecstatic that evening when they heard the news.
"Let's go out and celebrate," Denise offered. "Pizza's on me."
"Now wait a minute, it's just a first step. There's really not much to celebrate, yet," Katherine protested, trying to maintain the reality of the situation. "This merely says if I can make the appropriate changes then maybe they will represent me."
"As far as I'm concerned, you're a shoe-in," Denise said excitedly. "There's no doubt in my mind you can make it happen."
Katherine didn't argue. After months of rejections, she wanted to revel in this first acceptance. So she let Denise, the kids, and Darla take her out to celebrate, and with root beer in hand, they all drank a toast to Katherine's first novel.
***
April brought more sunshine and less rain, commanding peak performance of the spring flowers and lush lawns of brilliant green, yet Katherine hardly noticed. Re-writing an entire book, all three-hundred and twenty-five pages, page by page, was a daunting process. She'd installed a fax machine for the agent to send critiqued manuscript pages to her on a daily basis. Each day five to ten pages buzzed over the machine waiting for Katherine to transform them. She worked quickly each day to complete everyday tasks and her newspaper work so she could get back to re-writing the novel. She even dropped the AIDS articles for the time being, eager to use her precious spare time only on the book. Surely, she thought, if the agent was willing to spend so much time helping her re-write, she must be serious about taking on the book. With that in mind, Katherine plugged along through late nights and early mornings, polishing page after page of manuscript.
As much as she would have loved to hole herself up in her office and work solely on her novel, Katherine also had other obligations to attend to. She helped Darla apply for disability payments, which was a long process of endless paperwork, but they managed to complete it. There were the kids' activities to attend, Darla's doctor appointments to run to, laundry to do, and the endless other chores that make a house run smoothly. Sometimes, she found it frustrating, sometimes exhilarating, but most of the time she was just plain exhausted by the end of each day.
Katherine did take a break one night to attend an AIDS fundraiser and talk to Jeffrey Lindstrom, the head of the organization, about their activities and related groups in the Puget Sound area. She was impressed by his work and by that of the volunteers who consisted of AIDS patients, members of the gay community, and people like herself who were friends and family of AIDS patients. That night, at their indoor carnival, they raised almost twelve hundred dollars, money to be distributed as needed to area AIDS associations. Denise, Chelsea, and Chris had come along, too, and they all had a wonderful time. When Katherine left that evening, she felt inspired again to finish her articles on AIDS and send them off for publication. As important as her novel was to her, she realized that the articles were important, too, and silently vowed to make time for them.
***
"You almost ready up there?" Denise called up the stairs to Katherine. "We'll miss the first showing."
"I'm coming," Katherine shouted back. "Just a minute."
Denise walked back into the living room where Marcia sat next to a sulking Chelsea. "Thanks for coming over, Mom. These Saturday nights out have been a God-send."
"Don't even think about it, dear. I like coming over and being with the kids. You and Katherine need some time out for fun."
"I don't know why I can't go, too," Chelsea whined.
Denise sighed. "Honey, you know you haven't been feeling well. You need your rest. Besides, Katherine and I need a night out alone once in a while. And since Gary's been busy at the hospital these past few weeks, I haven't been out much at all."
"How is Gary doing?" Marcia asked. "I hope he isn't wearing himself out working, with all this flu going around."
"He's been working around the clock. The hospital has been full for weeks, and it's hitting the children the hardest. I'm glad Chris and Chelsea are over it already. I just hope Darla gets over it soon."
Marcia nodded in agreement as Katherine entered the room, digging through her purse for her car keys.
"I'm ready. Darla's pills are on the kitchen table. She takes them at eight o'clock with a large glass of orange juice. The other set she takes at ten. The pill containers are marked."
"Okay, dear. You two just have a good time. I'll take care of everything."
"Oh, Chris is up in his room watching television. He's not feverish anymore, but he might want some Tylenol later. The bottle is up in the kitchen cabinet by the stove. He said he still has a headache."
"I'll take care of it, dear. Now, you two run,
everything will be fine."
As Katherine and Denise seated themselves in the van, both let out huge sighs of relief. They stared at each other, then laughed.
"When did life get so complicated?" Katherine asked, starting the van. "I never thought going to a movie would be such a great relief."
"I know. It has been rough, hasn't it? I'm glad we started doing this. Going out on Saturday nights. It really helps."
"Thank God for your mother. We couldn't do this without her help."
"She knows how hard it has been on you, with Darla sick, and then the kids. She only wishes she could do more."
The two friends rode in silence for a while, each lost in her thoughts. Katherine enjoyed these occasional nights out. She hadn't allowed herself to have much fun since Darla was diagnosed, and since she began re-writing her book. Lately, it seemed that all she did was work. She was glad when Denise suggested they go out. Not only was it a welcome release from stress, but a great way for them to catch up on their friendship.
"How's the book coming?" Denise asked.
"Slow. I never realized how much detail goes into every sentence of a book. But I'm learning so much from the agent's notes."
"Do you think you'll be done by summer?"
Katherine shrugged as she maneuvered the van through the theater parking lot in search of a parking space. "I don't know. We aren't even half-way through yet. It takes a lot of time."
The two women bought their tickets and snacks and settled in to enjoy the movie. Both reminisced warmly on how often they did this as teenagers, and both hoped they would continue to do this together for many years to come.
***
Chelsea's Spring Orchestra Concert came and this time Darla attended without a fight. She understood now that there wouldn't be many more concerts she'd be able to attend. Darla was still pale and run-down from her bout of flu, but she dressed appropriately for a school function, except for the rebellious silver heels that made her daughter wince. Surprisingly, Darla beamed with pride as she watched her daughter play, and after the concert, bragged to anyone who'd listen about how talented Chelsea was. Chelsea blushed with embarrassment, but enjoyed this much needed approval from her mother. At least Darla was trying to be the mother Chelsea had always wanted, and her efforts didn't go unnoticed by family members. Late was better than never.
Chapter Eleven
The kids had left for school and Denise had already headed out the door for work as Katherine was cleaning up the last of the breakfast dishes. When Katherine heard Darla shuffle down the stairs, she pulled out Darla's medication box and poured her orange juice, then counted out the six different pills she needed this hour. As she set them on the table, Darla appeared in the doorway, leaning on the door frame, unable to hold herself up. Katherine took one look at her and bit her lip to keep from gasping. Darla's neck was swollen as big as a baseball on the right side. Katherine rushed over to her and felt her cheeks. Darla was burning up.
"Can you swallow?" Katherine asked, leading her to a chair.
"It hurts," she said hoarsely.
Immediately, Katherine called Dr. Hanson and Denise, then rushed Darla off to the emergency room.
***
"Darla has Lymphomas," Dr. Hanson announced to the group assembled in Darla's hospital room. Denise, her parents, Katherine, and Gary all watched the doctor intently while Darla sat in bed acting unconcerned by the matter. She'd been in the hospital two days already for tests and wanted nothing more than to go home.
"Lymphomas are cancers of the lymphatic system and are very common to AIDS patients," Dr. Hanson explained.
"What can be done?" Katherine asked as the rest of the group sat silent, struggling with the word cancer.
"It's difficult treating this type of cancer with AIDS patients because of their already weakened immune system. No matter what treatment we use, it will further suppress her immune system. But in Darla's case, I think we've caught this early enough for her to fight it. Also, from the combination therapy she's been on, her viral load is down, allowing her immune system to become stronger."
"Just cut the crap, Doc," Darla interrupted. "What are you going to do?"
Dr. Hanson's lined face broke into a smile at Darla's impatience. He understood she wasn't being rude, she was simply being Darla. "We won't need to use radiation," he announced, and everyone in the room seemed to relax. "But I will start you on chemotherapy to fight this. I'll also have to give you GM-CSF, growth factors, to stimulate the production of your white blood cells."
"I'm becoming a human pharmacy," Darla snorted in disgust. Everyone in the room chuckled nervously.
"Will that cure the cancer?" Dan Richards asked, his hands firmly grasping the back of his wife's chair for support.
"It will control it," the doctor answered. "But I can't promise any miracle cures until I see how she responds to therapy."
"Just like a man, won't commit to anything," Darla piped up. "Now, how soon can you get me out of this place?"
***
"I hate this shit!" Darla swiped at the cup of pills before her, spilling them on the kitchen floor. Katherine tightened her jaw and stared hard. It had been a month since Darla was diagnosed with cancer and she had been on an aggressive program of chemotherapy going to the hospital for treatments twice a week. It had been hard on her body from the start, and Darla had transferred her pain into anger, taking it out on everyone in the house, especially Katherine.
"I hate all this shit," she repeated. "I hate taking these pills ten times a day. I hate chemotherapy. I hate it all!" Darla grabbed her glass of orange juice and hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered and juice trickled down the flowered wallpaper.
"Stop it!" Katherine demanded. "You're acting like an idiot."
"I don't care. I can act any way I want. I'm dying. I'm allowed to be an idiot."
"You're not dead yet, but keep this up and I might help you along."
Two sets of eyes met and clashed.
"I might as well be dead than live like this. All I do is throw up. If I'm not throwing up, I feel like throwing up. I can't eat and I can't drink anything. And look at my hair! Look at it!" Darla ran her bony fingers through the thin strands of orange left on her head. "I'm going bald, for Christ's sake. Bald!"
She was ranting and raving so loud, using what little energy her emaciated body had left that Katherine thought for sure she'd have a heart attack right on the spot.
"Calm down, Darla, before you make yourself sicker."
Darla's eyes burned. "I don't want to calm down. I'm sick of it, you hear? I'm sick of it all!"
Weeks of Darla's outbursts had taken its toll on Katherine. Angrily, she snapped. "Fine then. Die. Go back up to your room and hide from life, like you've been doing for the past month, and just drop dead. You've been worthless the way you're acting anyway, pouting, throwing fits, and depressing everyone in the house. Your room is filthy, you stink, and your attitude is horse shit!"
"What am I supposed to do? Thank God for making me miserable?"
"God damn you, Darla. You're still alive. Be thankful for that. You can still walk and talk and think. Yes, you feel like shit most of the time, but it could be worse. So, instead of sitting in your room, waiting to die, why don't you join in on life until you do die? Dammit! Get off your dead ass and make something of the life you still have left!"
Darla's eyes bulged out so far she looked like she was going to explode. After a brief stare down, she turned and went up to her room, slamming the door.
"Good riddance," Katherine muttered as she fell to her knees and began picking up the shattered glass.
***
Katherine was at her computer working on the last of her AIDS articles when she heard Chelsea shriek from across the house. In a flash, she was down one flight of stairs, through the kitchen, and up the other flight to join Denise, who had already responded to Chelsea's cry. Chelsea and Denise stood with their mouths wide open, staring at Darla. Katherine took one look
at Darla and her mouth dropped, too.
Darla merely smiled back at them, amusement in her eyes. Her hair was shaved off, leaving only a peachy film over her entire head.
"Mom. Why?" Chelsea screeched.
Darla ran a hand over the fuzz. "It was falling out anyway, so I shaved it off. What's the problem? I think it makes me look buff."
"But Mom, you're bald!" Chelsea shrieked.
"It's no big deal. It'll grow back, eventually. Besides, I was only doing what Katie said I should. Making a change."
All eyes fell on Katherine.
"I told you to stop acting like a jerk. I didn't tell you to shave your head," Katherine said defensively.
Darla ran her hand over her head again. "Well, this is a start. It makes me feel tough again. Like Demi Moore in G.I. Jane. In control. And look, I cleaned my room. That should make you happy."
Katherine and the others looked around them. For the first time in weeks, they could see the floor. She'd piled her dirty laundry in one corner, made her bed, and opened the windows to let in fresh air. It was a major improvement.
"Now," Darla announced, "the next thing I need to do is get out of this house. What about that AIDS group you keep telling me about, Kathy? Do they have anything going on tonight?"
Again, everyone stared at Darla as if she'd just flown down from Mars. What happened to the moping, depressed Darla from only a few hours ago?
"I thought you weren't interested in being a part of any AIDS group," Katherine said.
"Well, now I am. Is there anything going on with them or not?"
Katherine stared at the others with raised eyebrows. Surely, Darla had gone crazy. "I think they have a fundraiser going on tonight," Katherine finally answered. "They have Bingo every other week at a place in Fremont."
Widow, Virgin, Whore - A Novel Page 10