Seize the Day

by Curtis Bunn

  Of the remaining money at Fidelity Investments, which should be around four-hundred-thousand dollars, my son, Walter Jr., is to receive five thousand a month for eighteen months—unless he fails random drug tests I have arranged with a private company through my lawyer. Any failed test would end any contributions forever.

  My brother, Donovan, whom I used to admire, will receive a one-time payment of one hundred thousand dollars to be used only for his son Everett’s college education. Those monies will be disbursed by Mr. Watson to the school Donovan identifies as Everett’s college of choice. The checks will be sent to that college by Mr. Watson or someone in his office only. No check will go directly to Donovan.

  Candice is to receive a lump sum payment of two hundred thousand dollars for being genuine and kind to me—and everyone. Calvin Jones, I wish I could give you more life. You deserve it. You don’t even know how much it meant to me for you to invite me to golf or to dinner or anywhere. With my son and brother turning their backs on me, you picked up their slack and kept me going. The best part is that you didn’t know I was hurting or sick. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry about me when you have so much to worry about with yourself. Wherever I am, I’m glad to not be conflicted anymore with my feelings and what I was doing. Thank you for…everything. Two hundred thousand dollars goes to Calvin Jones to help you live out your life.

  • • •

  And that was that. I was not struggling for money but Walter set me straight. Not just with the money, but with how I had to get my affairs in order. When doctors told me I was dying, all I could think about was living.

  I had to get busy so my daughter would be financially all right when my time came. I had to make sure the drama Walter Jr. and Donovan were going through did not happen with her.

  I decided I would draft all that on my bus ride from D.C. to Atlanta. I would have about twelve hours to kill and I couldn’t sleep them all away. In fact, I wanted to stay up most of the time, and look out of the window and appreciate what God has created, stuff I did not pay attention to in the past.

  Funny how you change when you know you’re gonna die. Everything matters. And nothing matters.

  I called and left a message for Walter’s attorney, letting him know I had the will. I also told him I wanted to be there when he read it in front of Donovan and Walter Jr.

  When I checked my voice messages, I had one from Johns Hopkins telling me to come in for a checkup and asking if I had seen a therapist. I appreciated that they followed up with me, even though I told them I was going another route for treatment. I didn’t call back.

  Instead, I called my daughter, Maya. I wanted to get my visit organized to Atlanta so I could meet with the holistic specialist. I felt OK, for the most part, but that episode scared me so much that I needed and wanted to do everything possible, as soon as possible, to be OK.

  She did not answer her phone, which was not unusual before I was diagnosed with cancer but completely not like her since the diagnosis. She even answered my call once while she was in the shower.

  It was OK, though, because I didn’t have any concrete plans. I had to attend Walter’s funeral service, but I wasn’t sure when Candice would arrange it.

  “Oh, Calvin, I’m so upset,” she said. “I read about Walter’s suicide on the Internet this morning. How could he do that? I don’t know if you know, but he and I talked sort of frequently. He shared with me that he is…was…bipolar. He talked about strange things sometimes. I could tell when he wasn’t feeling quite right. But he never—I don’t think—talked about killing himself. “

  “I had no idea, either, Candice. I was the one who found him in his garage and—“

  “What? Oh, my God, Calvin. You found him? That had to be horrible.”

  “I was stunned and hurt. Can’t get the image out of my head of him hanging there in his garage. The reporters were looking to interview me. But I didn’t want to have to describe it or how I felt. It was an undignified way for Walter to leave this earth. I can’t pretty that up and I don’t want to dirty his name. So I’m saying nothing.”

  Candice and I talked for almost an hour. And if a conversation or experience was enriching, you learn something about yourself. I was a little frustrated that so many things had come to light as my life light flickers, but it was better to have learned than to not have learned at all.

  Listening to Candice talk about surviving divorce and providing for her two children by working a second job after she left the high school and how it was never an option to not do what was necessary for her kids made me realize the strength I had in me, too. I knew I would do all that Candice did to provide for Maya. I just had it easier than Candice.

  And because of that, I sometimes looked at myself as privileged and maybe even docile. I taught kids, yes. And I cared about them deeply, yes. But because I never had to struggle, would I have inside of me what it took to grind it out? I listened to Candice talk about her love for her children and it was the same unbending, unconditional love I had for my child. For Maya I would have worked extra jobs, too, if necessary.

  And then Candice forced me to look at myself. Doctors told me I was going to die in a few months from cancer. I could have curled up in the bed and whittled. Or I could have let them shoot me up with chemo and rested in the bed and faded away.

  But I decided to live. And in that decision I actually lived and did more than I had before the horrible news. I didn’t view it as a race against death, but so much was happening that I was occupied with thoughts so vast that I often pushed aside my imminent demise and kept pushing forward. That took special strength.

  I hung up the phone with Candice with these words: “I’m glad we got to talk. I understand why he liked you so much and trusted you so much. You should feel good that you were a good friend to a good person.”

  She said: “It’s hard to take credit for doing what you’re supposed to do. I do know the kind of world we live in—people are looking out for themselves. So, thank you. But thank you for being a friend to Walter, too. He liked you. It wasn’t that he didn’t like a lot of people. He just didn’t see anything in most people. He saw something in you.”

  I was glad to hear that, but it made me sad, too. I wished I could have had a notion of the turmoil within this man who was a wonderful teacher and who cared about his students. Before I could completely sadden myself, Maya called me back.

  “What’s wrong?” she said when I answered.

  “You tell me.”

  “Oh, Daddy. I’m sorry. I was in a meeting when you called. Closing on a house. You know I get scared when I hear from you.”

  “You should be scared when you don’t hear from me.” I said, and we laughed.

  We talked about Atlanta. She had already contacted the holistic “doctor” and sent in the initial payment. I was psyching myself out on getting enemas. Still wasn’t ready, but I believed they would help.

  “But I can’t go anywhere until Walter’s funeral. I’m going to make sure it’s done soon, though.”

  “Daddy, that’s not your responsibility. I know you want to do right by Mr. Walter. But you’ve got to do right by you. It’s Tuesday. You need to be in Atlanta on Monday. Funeral or no funeral.”

  Funny how kids grow up and the roles change. They dictate—or try to. She believed she knew more than me, what was best for me and how I should function. I smiled whenever Maya went there with me.

  “OK, dear. Let me call Walter’s bickering family now. Which leads me to something, actually. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we’ve go to talk about my funeral and will and other things. And—”

  “Daddy, please. You’re going to make me upset. I don’t want to think about it. Let’s just get to Atlanta and see what happens.”

  “We can delay it, but we have to have this talk. Atlanta is not going to save my life. It could just prolong it so that I’m more comfortable. But the inevitable is the inevitable.”

  “I’m go
ing to go now. If you need me, just call. Let’s have dinner this week. I will cook something for you.”

  I didn’t feel like dealing with the drama of Walter Jr. and Donovan, but I called anyway. Wanted to let them know I had the will and that the probate lawyer was expecting us in his office the next day.

  “You have the will?” Donovan asked. “So why did you leave us here searching for it?”

  “I wasn’t sure what to do. There was more stuff for you to search for and find, anyway. Like bank account info, insurance papers. And have you all decided on a funeral date?”

  “We ain’t decide on shit. I’m about to let that boy join his father in hell.”

  “Why would you say something like that?”

  “When you kill yourself, it’s a sin. You sin, you go to hell.”

  “So you’re going to see your brother one day then, right? What you’re doing and what you’ve done surely are sins. It’s got to be a sin to disregard your brother and after he dies travel across country to seek his money.”

  “You ain’t the judge of me.”

  “And you’re not the judge of Walter.”

  “Man, this is getting us nowhere. What did the will say?”

  “It said a lot. I’m not allowed to talk about it. The lawyer will read the entire thing tomorrow. I will be there as well as Candice, who worked in the Main Office. Will you tell Walter Jr. or do I have to call him?”

  “I ain’t telling him a thing. He can fall off the face of the earth as far as I’m concerned.”

  “That’s your blood, your brother’s son. That’s the best you can speak on him? Over money?”

  Donovan did not say anything so I said, “A shame. I will text you the address.”

  I called Walter Jr. next and he was equally angry at his uncle.

  “We didn’t get anything accomplished today because his sucka ass said he was all about the money…until I said we were going to get the flat-screen and some other stuff out of there. He lives in California but sweating my dad’s TV? So we got to rumblin’ in there. I ain’t never had no love for him. And that damn sure ain’t change.”

  I could not fathom what I was hearing. My family was small, but tight. Some of them were strange and some I didn’t like that much, but there was nothing like the animosity I heard from Walter’s people.

  In fact, I didn’t want to hear more of their bickering, so I gave Walter Jr. the address and told him to meet us at the lawyer’s office at eleven in the morning.

  The whole thing made me ill. Well, maybe it wasn’t the strife between two people who should come together at a time of sorrow. But I surely started to feel bad. So I curled up in bed—hadn’t had a bite to eat all day—and hoped I could sleep away the discomfort.

  I rested there in silence and cried. So much was going on in my life and around me. It was too much.

  I couldn’t get the vision of Walter’s body dangling in his garage out of my sight. I couldn’t dismiss how I feared for my daughter after my death. I couldn’t stop thinking about how uncle and nephew disliked each other so much that they got into a fight over Walter’s money and belongings. I couldn’t get over the fact that I was dying.

  I said I was going to do what Kevin wanted to do in his life, but I got nowhere on that list—except for getting a bald head. Strangely enough about the bald head, I did notice more looks. Women stared a little longer. I also felt a little menacing, like Marvin Hagler. But when those distractions subsided, I was scared.

  I cried myself to sleep and woke up just as petrified. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had a plan of going to Atlanta to get holistic treatments to make my days, my final days, more tolerable. But what would I do to actually live, knowing I’m going to die? That question haunted me.

  If I didn’t have to go to the bathroom, I would have stayed in bed. But getting up gave me air, and air helped me to think. I thought about what I would do in Atlanta and decided to pull out my laptop and do a search.

  Before I could get to Google, I received notification in my e-mail that I had a message from Kathy Drew-Turner. And suddenly my heart rate increased. I was excited and hopeful.

  Kathy and I had a love affair that was as romantic and organic as it was brief. I loved her. Never stopped loving her, even after about two decades.

  The hyphenated last name meant she was married, and I accepted that because she deserved to have a family. She was smart and kind and gentle and ambitious…the hallmarks of a strong mother and wife.

  I was uncertain of where I found the discipline, but I sat and smiled as I thought of her before opening the e-mail. I needed to reminisce before getting bad news. That was another thing that happened to me: I subtly became negative. I went to the doctor just to get a checkup and he gave me the worst news possible. I began to expect the worst. Even when I went to Walter’s house, I didn’t expect him to be dead, but I didn’t feel like I was going there to have a few light-hearted moments. I felt something was wrong.

  I was opposite that prior to my diagnosis. I had a positive outlook on life, even if I didn’t do that much besides work, golf when the weather was good, date some really nice women and read. I watched TV, too, but that was hard to do with all the crappy programming nowadays. Had about two hundred channels and most times couldn’t find a thing worth watching. Anyway, that was enough for me. I had more excitement in the last few months than I cared to experience.

  Finally, I got up the nerve to open the e-mail from Kathy. I read it once. And then again. And one more time for clarity.

  OMG. I can’t believe it’s you, Calvin. You’re so not the person I would expect on Facebook. And you must have just joined because I tried to find you more than once. How are you? Why don’t you have a photo on your page?

  We have not spoken in more than ten years, and yet I still feel connected to you. We had something special, you know? And I can’t seem to figure out how or why it didn’t last. That’s the question of my life.

  How is Maya? She’s a young lady now in the world doing things, I’m sure. I have two sons—Robert and Malcolm. I have been married since we last communicated. But it’s a challenge right now. More on that when we talk. We will talk, right? Come to think if it, it’s been about ten years since I heard your voice. Anyway, I would love to catch up with you. I live in Charlotte, but will be moving to Atlanta soon. Maybe. Please catch me up on what’s going on with you. I’m waiting…

  I could almost hear her voice as I read those words. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my state of mind or what. But I felt like I was falling in love with her all over again.

  How could that be? I guessed true love was timeless and priceless and unyielding. I loved Kathy and I never stopped. That’s the long and short of it. And while I dated women after we parted—including trying to rekindle something with Skylar, Maya’s mother—Kathy never left my heart. That’s how I knew it was true love.

  I placed my fingers on the keyboard intent on pouring my emotions into a missive to her. But I was too scared. She wrote that she was married. It was challenging, as she put it, but she was still committed to someone. Then again, she was so excited to write me and wrote of still being “connected” to me and of trying to find me.

  I was confused. Really, I confused myself, just as I did when she and I were together. In my heart, I knew she was ready to marry and spend her life with me. In my head, I was scared. I did not trust who we were to each other and kept talking about waiting and waiting…until I was waiting alone. She took a job in San Francisco when I did not tell her to stay, and we drifted apart as time passed.

  Kathy, I’m almost shocked to hear from you. So often I think of you and miss you and wonder about you. I’m relieved to know you are well and that you have not forgotten me.

  Life is short and I wasted a lot of years not being true to my feelings with you, and that’s a regret I have to live with. I’m sorry. But there’s something magical about reconnecting with you that’s so exciting. I want to hear all about your l
ife, your family, your career (you did become a human resources consultant, right?), everything.

  You’re married? You deserve someone who loves and honors you. I hope he does. I hope he’s all you desire. It’s hard for me to write that because I always felt I was that person for you, but I blew that. I never married because I never found anyone like you. I’m sorry for being so dramatic, but I don’t like to waste time anymore. We never know how much time we have to waste anyway.

  I could write you all night, but I’m not going to do that. I ask that you drop me a line again when you can, or call me. Would love to hear your voice again.

  I left my personal e-mail and cell phone number and wrapped it up. I read it a few times before sending. When I did, I had a feeling that was foreign to me. I had just sent a love letter.

  It was silly to feel that way because, one, she was married and, two, she was married. Still, I felt an adrenaline rush to have communicated with Kathy, married or not.

  That’s how I knew she was so different to me. The young lady I met right before I went to the doctor, the woman I had developed a serious interest in? Well, I found out that she was married. Found out while I was struggling with the realization that I had cancer and I got a phone call from her husband.

  I was distraught and confused. When it finally occurred to me what he was calling about, I felt terrible. “Man, listen. I met your wife at Nando’s in downtown D.C. We were in line waiting to order and struck up a conversation. She wasn’t wearing a ring and didn’t say she was married. We talked on the phone once and talked about connecting. But we never did. And if I knew she was married, I would never have communicated with her beyond the restaurant. So, I get why you’re calling me. But that’s the entire extent of my knowledge of your wife.”

  The guy wanted to ask me more questions. I cut him off. “My man, I’m sorry. I told you everything. I have to go. But I’m telling you, there is no more to it than what I told you. I’m not trying to be rude, but I have to go.”