Bright Side

by Kim Holden

  I take the envelope, and my hands are shaking. I’ve gone from angry to scared in a split second. I part the top of the already opened envelope and peer inside. There’s no letter, only a small piece of paper. I pinch it between my thumb and forefinger and slide it out slowly. “A check?”

  Audrey nods.

  I look at the amount. “Audrey, this is fifty thousand dollars.” I’ve never seen this many zeroes.

  Audrey nods again.

  I toss it aside on the nightstand. “Fuck him, Audrey.” I’m pissed again. I try not to use that word in front of Audrey because I know she doesn’t like it, but I can’t restrain myself. “Fuck him and his money. Send it back. Tell him I don’t want it.”

  She looks stressed, but resigned. “Normally, Kate, I would agree with you. I would commend your dignity and pride and tell him to stuff it. But, I think you should accept it.”

  Maybe she’s right. “You take it. I’ll sign it over to you. It will help repay you for all you’ve done for me over the years.” This isn’t my anger talking. I sincerely mean it, and she knows it.

  “Oh Kate, I couldn’t accept something like that. Gus and I have never lacked financially. We’ve both been very fortunate. Maybe you know someone else who might be able to use the money?”

  It doesn’t take me long to come to a decision. I endorse the check and give Audrey specific instructions, and then I write a short thank-you note to my father.

  Thomas,

  Thank you for Grace. I wish you could have known her. She was the sweetest, most innocent human being.

  Though your money reeks of guilt, and it’s against my better judgment to accept it, know that it will be put to good use.

  Lastly, I hope you’re good to your wife and children and that you tell them you love them every day. Kids need that. Audrey Hawthorne taught me about the love of a parent to her child. She’s a wonderful woman. I’ve never felt unloved. I hope that puts your mind at ease.

  Kate

  After the note, and after Audrey leaves the room, I decide to talk to God, which makes me feel a little guilty because I’ve been avoiding him for a long time now. Hey Big Man. I meant what I wrote to Thomas. I don’t know if it’s my place to ask you for this, but whatever. Here goes. Please forgive him. I really do hope that he loves his wife and kids and that they love him. Thank you for blessing me with so many people to love.

  Sunday, January 15

  (Kate)

  Keller’s had flowers delivered to me every four or five days since I’ve been away from him here at Audrey’s. Gus always puts them on the nightstand next to my bed so I can look at them and smell them up close. I’ve always said I don’t do hearts and flowers. I’ve since changed my stance. I’m so pro hearts and flowers now.

  Yesterday I received a box in the mail from Keller. It was labeled “Katie’s Dream Vacation” and inside he had packed a travel DVD about Ha Long Bay, two pairs of cheap sunglasses, two small paper drink umbrellas, and a handwritten note of instructions. Following those instructions, Gus and I wore the sunglasses and watched the DVD. Gus sat beside me on my bed drinking a glass of Jack and Coke while I enjoyed my cup of vegetable broth while pretending that it was a pina colada. We garnished our cocktails with the small paper umbrellas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite as funny as Gus drinking something with a tiny cocktail umbrella in it. It was perfect. The thought that Keller put into this gift was perfect.

  Keller, Stella, and I Skyped tonight, like we do every night. He showed me the airline tickets he bought. They cost him a lot of money that I know he doesn’t have. He lost the majority of his scholarship and he has Stella full-time now, so the bills are piling up. He wanted to be here this weekend, but I know I’ll only see him one more time and I feel like I don’t want it to happen too soon or it will be over and then I won’t have anything to look forward to. It will be one more “last time” for me. I want to put off this “last time” as long as I can. So he and Stella are coming to see me Friday evening instead. They’re staying until Sunday afternoon. I can’t wait to see them, smell them, touch them. It’s been two weeks. Two weeks feels like an eternity. Distance sucks. I miss them. I miss him.

  Monday, January 16

  (Kate)

  Hey God, it’s me Kate. I feel like we never really talked about what’s going on except for my angry rant last month, but I want you to know that I’m not mad, you know, about the whole cancer cluster-fuck. It doesn’t change the way I look at my life. I had a good one. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Gracie, Gus, Audrey, Keller, my friends, and my music were a gift from—well you know, you. I get that, so thank you. Each and every one was a blessing. Speaking of which, I’m also here to ask for a solid. Please keep an eye on everyone I love when I’m gone, especially Keller and Gus. As human beings go, they’re my favorites and yes, I’m requesting preferential treatment. Audrey, too. Take that as you will. Thanks in advance. And one more thing. I know I may be over-stepping my bounds here, but I figure you’re used to that with me by now. Don’t think I’m a pussy, but when my time comes, can you take me painlessly, like maybe in my sleep or something? I’m kind of over the whole agony thing, to be honest with you. Plus, I know Gus and Audrey will most likely be with me when it happens and I’d rather not leave them with a traumatic last impression. Oh, and can you let Gracie know I’m coming? You know, if she doesn’t already know. Tell her we’ll sing and dance and read stories and eat Twix bars and watch sunsets. This is probably the last you’ll hear from me until I’m standing on your doorstep banging on the door like some obnoxious long-lost relative. I know you’re secretly looking forward to hanging out with me. Heaven will be a lot less quiet and a lot more fun once I get there. You have been warned. Don’t worry, you’ll love it. Okay. Good night.

  Tuesday, January 17

  (Keller)

  My cell wakes me. It’s ringing in my hand. It’s 1:10am. Gus is calling. I sleep holding the phone for this very reason.

  But suddenly I feel paralyzed with fear and grief. I don’t want this call. It’s too soon. I talked to her just hours ago. Hours ago she told me she loved me and that she would talk to me in the morning. My phone shouldn’t be ringing. It’s not morning yet.

  The ringing dies out.

  The ringing starts back up.

  The message finally travels from my brain to my fingers and I answer, but no words come out. I need him to talk.

  I hear his breath hitch and my heart drops into my stomach.

  I find my words. “Please don’t tell me she’s gone.”

  “No.” He’s not even trying to contain himself. He’s crying openly. “She had a stroke. She can’t talk. She can’t open her eyes. She can’t move the right side of her body. You need to get your ass on a plane and get down here, pronto.”

  Oh my God.

  “We’ll be on the first flight.”

  The earliest flight I can find departs at 6:50am. With the time change, we arrive in San Diego around 7:30. By the time we get a cab and find the house, it’s 8:15.

  Gus told us the front door would be unlocked, so Stella and I let ourselves in. The door is heavy and closes with a loud thud behind us. We walk through the foyer and stop in the living room. The house is large and I’m not sure which way I should turn until a tall, blond, middle-aged woman walks into the room. Her resemblance to Gus is undeniable.

  Her eyes are red and swollen. “You must be Keller and Stella. I’m Audrey.” Her voice is weary, but welcoming.

  I offer my hand and feel anxious and awkward because all I want to do is run to Katie. “Hi, Audrey. I’m Keller Banks. This is my daughter, Stella. Thank you so much for what you’re doing for Katie.”

  She grasps my hand in both of hers and squeezes. It’s comfort. “Welcome. Let’s get you in to see Kate.”

  I’m not prepared for what I’m about to see. Katie and I communicate through Skype every day. She’s been getting thinner and paler, I knew that. I saw her on my computer screen. Seeing her on my la
ptop and seeing her in person are two entirely different things. She looks emaciated. Her cheekbones are prominent and her temples are sunken in. Her skin is pale, and there’s a yellowish tinge to it. Her tiny hands are splayed over her stomach on top of the bedspread. Her veins are bold and blue under her transparent, papery skin. I take her left hand gently in mine. She feels cool, like she always does. I brush my thumb across the back of her hand, then lean down to kiss her on the lips. “Hi babe. Stella and I came to see you early. Gus said you had a rough night.”

  There’s the slightest hint of movement. Her arm twitches, and then her fingers wrap around mine and squeeze. It’s so weak, but it makes my heart melt. I treasure it.

  Audrey, Gus, Stella, and I spend the rest of the day gathered around Katie. We take turns talking to her. You would think that talking to someone virtually unresponsive would be difficult, but with Katie it’s not. We know she’s listening.

  Wednesday, January 18

  (Keller)

  I’d like to think she’s still listening, but I don’t know if that’s true anymore.

  The nurse says that Katie’s slipped into a coma. Her body is shutting down. Her organs are failing. She doesn’t squeeze my hand anymore when I hold it.

  Gathered around her bedside, Audrey and I tell her she can go whenever she’s ready. That Grace is waiting for her. That we love her.

  Gus says nothing.

  Thursday, January 19

  (Keller)

  It’s three in the morning. Stella is asleep on the sofa in the living room, and Audrey gently shoos me and Gus out of Katie’s room, telling us to get some fresh air while she checks Katie’s catheter, which has caused an infection. This is an hourly ritual to keep Katie comfortable. Usually Gus and I refuse to leave, but I think we’ve both hit a wall. We need to catch our breath.

  The view of the ocean from their deck is unbelievable. The water looks like it goes on forever. What with everything I’ve been through this past month, I’m beginning to fear that my reality is warped forever. The view is beautiful, but it’s a different beauty than if I would’ve seen it two or three months ago. Two or three months ago, it would have been alive and vibrant, like Katie. My world is slipping back to black, white, and gray. That scares me.

  Gus is leaning with his elbows on the railing, smoking a cigarette. His eyes are closed and his hair is like a yellow bird’s nest. I know he’s just going through the motions now. He hasn’t really slept in weeks. He’s dragging. He looks defeated. He doesn’t talk much unless it’s to Katie or Stella, and Katie hasn’t talked back in two days.

  “What’s your first memory of Katie?”

  He doesn’t open his eyes or even look at me when he answers, “I’ve been thinking about that a lot this past week, growing up with Bright Side and Gracie. Almost every memory I have from my childhood involves the two of them. I don’t have a first memory because they were always there. I don’t remember a time when they weren’t. I remember other firsts. The first time Bright Side got stung by a jellyfish, she was four. The first time I heard her play the violin, she was eight. The first time she cussed me out, she was eleven. The first time I realized how beautiful she was, she was sixteen. The bikini was white, by the way.”

  Hearing these things about her is bittersweet, but I want to hear more. “Is the twenty-year-old Katie much different than the ten-year-old Katie? She seems like an old soul. Like she was born with this amazing wisdom and grace, straight out of the womb.”

  He laughs, but finishes his cigarette and lights another before he speaks. “Bright Side was always different from other kids. Smarter, nicer, funnier,” he says. He finally looks at me and smiles, “And mouthier.”

  “Did her mouth ever get her in trouble?” Talking about her is relaxing me.

  He shakes his head. “Does a bear shit in the woods? What do you think? That’s the goddamn thing, though; people always back down from her when she stands her ground. And they love and respect her for it, because there’s always truth behind it. That tiny little woman can make grown men cower, believe me, I’ve seen it. Hell, I’ve cowered.” He laughs.

  I laugh with him. “So have I.”

  I’m leaning against the railing now a few feet from him. We’re both watching the waves crash against the shore as silence settles between us. He deposits cigarette number two into the ashtray and lights up number three.

  “Keller, I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me. No bullshit, dude.”

  He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I nod.

  “You love her, right? I mean like, you love her with all your heart and soul?”

  I nod. “I do. Heart and soul.”

  He contemplates my answer a second and looks back out at the waves. “Good, 'cause that girl loves you with her entire fucking being. I’d kick your ass if you didn’t feel the same.” No joke, he means it.

  I should keep my mouth shut, because I feel like under any other circumstances what I’m about to say would be inappropriate, but the guy needs to get this out. “You love her, too.” It’s not a question.

  He’s focused on waves in the far distance. He takes another drag on his cigarette. “Of course. She’s my best friend. Who wouldn’t love Bright Side?”

  I’m looking at the same waves, because I can’t look at him when I press this, “That’s not what I’m asking. Heart and soul, you’re in love with her?”

  His shoulders slump. “You don’t want to hear the answer to that one, dude.”

  “Probably not, but I see the way you look at her. This whole thing is tearing you up on a different level. I feel like I’m looking in a mirror when I look at you.”

  He huffs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. He wants to let this out, but he’s holding back for my sake.

  “Gus, you need to talk to someone. Granted I may not be the ideal person, but anything you say right now stays between us.”

  He finally looks me in the eye. He holds me in a stare before he blinks several times and sighs. “Oh fuck it. Yes, I’m in love with her. I honestly can’t remember a time that I wasn’t.”

  It’s what I’ve suspected all along. “Did you ever tell her? I mean, really tell her?”

  He turns his back to the water and sits on the railing facing the house. “No.”

  “Why not?” It’s three in the morning. I’m sitting here discussing another man’s love for my girlfriend and damn if I don’t feel sorry for him. I need some goddamn sleep.

  “Because I thought that she always deserved better. I knew she’d find someone someday as amazing as she was. That’s all I ever wanted for her.” It’s one of the most sincere things I’ve ever heard.

  I walk to the other end of the deck. I can’t look at him when I say what needs to be said. “I know you slept with her. The night before she came to Grant.”

  I’m waiting for him to challenge me, to ask how I know something so private. But he doesn’t. “Best fucking night of my entire life, dude. Sorry, I know that’s really messed up to tell you, but it was.”

  I turn to face him and I nod. There’s this odd camaraderie-thing going on that can only be the result of sleep deprivation and imminent death.

  He shakes his head like he’s second guessing opening his mouth again, but he does it anyway. “Keller, dude, you don’t have to answer this, but do you ever worry that you’ll never be the same when she’s gone? Like the rest of your life is just going to be this endless black hole devoid of happiness and love?”

  I nod. “I don’t like to think about it, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’ve known her such a short time but she’s changed me entirely. I feel like I owe it to her not to waste that, you know? But yeah, it’s going to be tough. Every fucking day, man.”

  He walks over and slaps me on the back. His eyes look tired again. “Let’s get back inside. Thanks for listening, dude. We never had this conversation, agreed?”

  I nod. “Agreed.”

&nb
sp; “And thanks for not punching me in the face or ripping my balls off. I’m not sure I could’ve done the same if I was in your shoes. You’re a good dude, Keller. No wonder Bright Side loves you so much.”

  I have to look him in the eye so he believes what I’m about to tell him. “You’re not so bad yourself. She loves you, too, Gus.”

  He nods and opens the sliding glass door. “I don’t like to keep Bright Side waiting. Never have. Let’s go.”

  Friday, January 20

  (Keller)

  Katie died today.

  She went quietly, peacefully. No dramatic exit, which seemed appropriate since she hated to draw attention to herself. She inhaled a breath, then exhaled. That was it. The next breath never came.

  It was 1:37pm. It was sunny outside. The window next to her bed was cracked open so she could smell the salt in the air off the water and feel the breeze on her face.

  Gus was sitting on the left side of her bed holding her hand in both of his. I was sitting on her right side holding her other hand. Audrey was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed with Stella on her lap. She was surrounded by those who loved her most.

  When her heart monitor flatlined and beeped, the hospice nurse came in calmly and checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She nodded her apologies, her sympathies, and then she left us alone.

  For Gus, tears came immediately. He squeezed her hand one last time, kissed her on the forehead, told her goodbye and that he loved her, and then he left. We heard the door slam a moment later, and then the sound of his truck’s tires squeal on the street as he sped off.

  I continued to stroke her hair for a few more minutes, not wanting to give her up. When Stella climbed down off Audrey’s lap and crawled up into Gus’s vacated spot and said goodbye to Katie, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I slid off the bed and took her face in my hands, closed my eyes, kissed her lips softly one last time, and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for letting me love you.”