Seize the Day

by Curtis Bunn

  “You don’t have to understand, Kathy.” It came out before I could temper it. “You have a husband and a family. Before I reached out to you, found you on Facebook, I hadn’t heard from you in years. So, I’m not cool with you thinking I owe you an explanation.”

  “Oh, really? Well, I didn’t mean anything by it. And still, you don’t have to be so sensitive about it. I’m just asking to find out what’s going on. I’m I wrong for that?”

  I felt bad. “No, you’re not. I apologize. There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about.”

  Kathy did not respond, and I quickly recalled that was a mechanism she used all her life. To avoid saying something she would regret, she would not say anything. So I knew I just had to continue.

  “Kathy, I have cancer. I—”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” The concern in her voice was obvious. But I also noticed that Moses stopped eating and looked up at me, as if he understood, even though I had already told the dog. It freaked me out.

  Can this damned dog understand what I’m saying? What the hell?

  I was going to tell Kathy what I saw, but she wouldn’t have believed me. But Moses looked at me with those sad eyes for several seconds. Finally, I said to him, “It’s OK. Finish eating.”

  “Who are you talking to? Never mind. Calvin! I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. But I haven’t been exactly spreading the word.”

  I gave her the details of what I had, when it was discovered, etc. And then I gave her the bombshell news.

  “It’s terminal.”

  Again, Moses raised his head from the bowl and looked at me. Kathy didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  “Calvin, can you hold on a second?”

  I waited about a minute before she came back. “Calvin, I had to have a good cry in private. I’m so scared for you. I’m so sorry.”

  Tears began to flow down my face. I had become good at talking while crying, without the person on the other end of the phone knowing. They’d say stuff like, “I’m so proud of how you’re handling this” and “You’re so strong.” And I’d be thinking, If only you knew.

  “Thank you for caring so much, Kathy. But it’s going to be OK.”

  OK? How is it going to be OK? I was lying to myself and to Kathy.

  “I don’t know how you can say that. I mean, I’m not trying to be selfish, but we just reconnected and now you’re telling me you have terminal cancer. That’s not OK for me or you.”

  She was right but I had to tell myself that to move on. Or try to move on. I hadn’t exactly accepted my fate. I had gotten off the floor and sought to live a semblance of a life. But how can you, when you know you’re going to die? The conflict was ongoing.

  Kathy wanted to know all the details, what the doctors said, how long they projected I had…

  “Wish I could say it’s a long time, but it’s not. A few months. I feel fine right now. But every few days I get these pains that literally knock me out.”

  She got quiet again when I told her I was not taking chemo.

  “I can’t do that to myself. I know it has worked for millions of people and saved lives. But they told me it would not save my life. They’re certain about that. It would just have me laid up. I wouldn’t even be here right now. I wouldn’t have gotten to help save that man’s life today. I wouldn’t have seen you tonight. I wouldn’t have found Moses. All that happened because I decided to live.

  “I know chemo works for a lot of people. For me, it wouldn’t work.”

  I went on to tell her about the holistic treatment I was going to receive in Atlanta.

  “It’s not going to save my life, either. But it will—if it really works—help cleanse some of what’s bad in my body and help me to feel better and have less pain. If it can do that, then I’ll be all right.”

  Finally, she spoke. It was surprising to me that, after all those years, what Kathy had to say meant so much to me.

  “All of this is just too much. I can’t right now. What can I do, Calvin? How can I help you? This is so crazy to me.

  “I mean, we talk after all these years. I see you on TV. We go out to dinner and I feel like whatever we had was still there. I’m not even going to talk about my situation, my marriage. And now you tell me that the doctors say you’re dying? This…this is too much.”

  And I’m thinking, No shit?

  “You telling me?”

  “Well, can I come over there and see you now?”

  “I need to get some rest, read a little—”

  “Just say you don’t want to see me, Calvin. You don’t have to make excuses with me.”

  “Don’t want to see you? That’s a joke, right. Really, I’m just tired I gave you my room number in a text. Can you come in the morning, before we leave?”

  “We’re both up now, but OK.” I could tell she wasn’t happy. But I couldn’t tell if it was because I rejected her or because she really wanted to see me.

  “Do you understand the day I have had?” I asked. I felt compelled—another word for guilty, in this case—to make it clear to Kathy. “Got up early after no sleep to catch a bus. You know all the stuff that has happened since then. That might not be a full day for you, but for me, it’s more than enough.”

  “OK, Calvin, I get it. I’m not trying to pressure you or add drama to your day. I just wanted to hug you. That’s all.”

  I didn’t say anything because a hug from Kathy always led to sex, something I actually had not even thought about for weeks. I didn’t have a lot going on, but I always had someone to fulfill that part of my life, whether she was serious to me or not. Learning I was going to die took away my sex drive, something I actually thought could never happen.

  “OK, well, get some rest, Calvin. I will call you,” she said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE KNOCK AT THE DOOR

  I put a little food out for Moses, set up a comfortable place for him to sleep and took a hot shower and got into bed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The dog lay in his place, looking at me. I went over to him and rubbed along his back.

  “Crazy day, Moses. Crazy day. But I’m glad it all happened. All that had to happen for me to be at that hotel at the time you came up. So, it was meant to be that we meet, buddy. You’re a good dog. I’m sorry what happened to you but I’m glad we met. Now, you get some rest. But let me know if you need to go outside.”

  I rubbed his head and made my way into the bed. I wanted to read, but needed to say my prayers first. I had gotten back into the routine of praying after the funeral. I had my problems with God, I was not ashamed to say. But that was my pain taking over. I grew up understanding God made no mistakes, and that there was no place better than heaven. I wasn’t ready to see it, but it was out of my hands.

  Just as I was about to begin, there was a faint knock at the door. It was not loud, but I knew what I heard. Plus, Moses rose, too, from his pile. He heard it. Immediately, I thought someone had followed me and was there to get Moses. In the time it took to conjure that thought, I got sad. I had grown attached to the dog that quickly and was not ready to let him go.

  I started not to answer, to act as if we were not there, but Moses barked. So, I yelled in a deep, I’m-not-taking-any-bull voice: “Who is it?”

  “Calvin, it’s Kathy.”

  I had a mix of relief and frustration at once: It was not someone looking to claim Moses; but it was someone who violated my wishes.

  “What? Kathy?”

  “Please, let me see you for five minutes, Calvin.”

  If it were anyone else, she would have remained outside that door. But it was Kathy. I was weak to her. And I was, even though sort of angry, excited that she was there.

  “I can’t believe this.”

  Kathy had changed her clothes. She was now in shorts, a button-up white blouse with wedge heels. And she smelled like love.

  “Can I please just hug you?” she asked as she walked into
the room. Her eyes were filled with tears. She walked into my arms and held me tightly as she cried on my shoulder.

  “I’m so scared. Aren’t you scared?”

  “Petrified.”

  After a minute or so, we let go of each other. But holding her in my arms felt so right, the best feeling I had since the diagnosis. I told her that.

  “You don’t even look sick, Calvin. You look wonderful. Did you get a second opinion?”

  “And third and fourth. It is what it is.”

  “Can I stay for a while? I’m struggling with this.”

  “I was about to say my prayers and read. I don’t sleep that much anymore. Can’t sleep.”

  “I can’t even imagine. And here you are…brave, living your life. I’m really proud of how brave you are. I…I think I’d just be sitting in the dark crying.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. And you know why? Because you love life. I feel like I’ve had a good life, but there was so much more I could do. Could have done.”

  “Then do it. Why not? You can do whatever you want.”

  “I’d like someone to do some of it with.”

  “I wish I could spend some time with you, experience some things with you. Right now, I have to get my finances together before I can do anything.”

  “Well, I was going to just send it to you as a surprise,” I said.

  “Send me what?”

  “A check.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I have some money. One of my co-workers, my friend Walter, died recently. Actually, he committed suicide. Hanged himself in his garage. Before he did, he asked me to come over. I got there and found him hanging by his neck in his garage.”

  “Calvin, get the frick outta here.”

  “Seriously. A good man, too. He wanted me to find him. Anyway, I said I have money because Walter left me some. I had no idea he had money like that. He was a teacher at my school, but he invested well and had a small fortune. So, I have some money. Some money to help you.”

  “Calvin, I can’t let you do that.”

  “What? You can’t let a friend help you? That doesn’t sound right.”

  “I just mean that there are more people out there worse-off than me. They need it more.”

  “Well, obviously I don’t have enough to help everybody. But I will definitely try to help as many people as I can—starting with you.”

  “I don’t know what I did to deserve this from you.”

  “You’ve always been special to me. Even when we were apart, doing our own thing, you always stayed special. Still are. So, I’m excited about helping someone who means so much to me. It gives me pleasure, and I need to do that as much as possible now.”

  “Can I give you some pleasure?”

  She said it in a way that made it clear she was talking about sex, something that had meant little to me. The doctors’ news made me flaccid. The only times I thought about it was when I dreamed about it, which was not that often.

  When I did, though, I would awake with an erection. Once or twice I handled it myself—jacked off—and my mind went somewhere else. But I did think about how lovely Kathy looked when she picked me up at the hospital. Looking at her across the table at dinner, I saw the sexiness in her that I loved when we were together. And there she was sitting on the bed beside me, looking and smelling enticing.

  It wasn’t just about her facial features or body. It was her smile, the way she used the back of her index finger to move her hair from covering her eyes, the way she pursed her lips when she intently listened—subtle things that drew me in. I did begin to think about sex with her, just about the time her husband’s friend rolled up on us. The erection that was developing in my mind flat-lined.

  Now, there she was in my hotel room asking if she could give me pleasure. Damn right, you could give me pleasure. But she was married. But I was dying. That was no excuse; it would be wrong. But it wouldn’t matter because I’d be gone. I played that back-and-forth game in my head long enough for Kathy to wonder.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t…”

  “It’s not that.” For some reason, I thought she was taking pity on me because I was dying. I also thought she felt obligated because I said I was going to give her some money.

  “It’s not that…Kathy. I don’t want you to do anything that compromises you morally. You’re a good girl. And you’re married.”

  “In name only. That’s it. There’s nothing there. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “And you don’t have to do something to make me feel good because you know I’m sick. You don’t have to do that.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Calvin. How could you think that? I know it’s been a while, but act like you know me.”

  “And the money, it’s yours—I don’t want you to feel like you owe me something.” Mistake.

  “If I didn’t know better, you just called me a whore,” she said, standing up from the foot of the bed.

  “You know I would never do that.”

  “You just said, basically, that I would sleep with you because you said you were going to give me some money.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean it as crazy as it sounds. I don’t know, Kathy. I didn’t mean to insult you. You know how I feel about you. I hope. But I’m not thinking right. My confidence, my…it’s just always a lot going on in my mind.

  “I’m overwhelmed with thoughts and fears and I just can’t balance them all the right way sometimes. I’m sorry.”

  She sat back on the bed, only this time thigh-to-thigh close to me. I looked over at Moses, who was looking at me like, What you gonna do?

  “Do you know, when I saw you when you picked me up and at dinner, it’s the first time first time since the doctors told me I had cancer that I really thought about sex?”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Calvin, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do. I just feel like right now, at this moment, we need each other.”

  She ain’t never lied. I could feel an erection growing in my pants just from her words and the thought of sex with her. And her scent. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but it did make me feel manly. Most men tie manhood to sex, and how well and how often we get it. Yes, it was caveman thinking, but it was what it was. My manhood did not seem to be slipping from me, but sex slid way down the priority meter for me, to the point where it did not matter. I had more important things to think about.

  Before I could say anything, Kathy jumped on me as if I were a horse—straddled me like a jockey would a mare. I held her by her waist and she leaned in for the most extended sensual kiss. It brought me right back to our time together—and out of my indifference.

  So I started working off memory. I knew all her arousal points and I targeted them in a fit of desperate passion that was electric. I kissed her neck and down her shoulders. I pulled her tee over her head, exposing her breasts sitting up in a lace bra. Without hesitation, I grabbed them both firmly, but gently, too.

  She threw her head back just as I recalled, and I pulled the straps down each arm, which allowed me to remove her breast out of the cups. I kissed them delicately, alternating between the two. She loved it when I took them in my mouth, squeezing them as I sucked on the nipples. Kathy began to make sounds, the kind that tell a story of passion.

  “I have missed you, Mr. Jones,” she said breathlessly.

  I could not respond with a mouthful of titties. I figured she would rather I do that than speak. After a few more minutes, the foreplay achieved its purpose—I was hard as a jackhammer and Kathy was dripping-through-her-clothes moist.

  She maneuvered off my lap and around the bed to the nightstand, where she turned out the light. “Your dog doesn’t need to see this,” she said, smiling.

  I laughed. “You’re right—don’t want to traumatize him.”

  From either side of the bed, we watched the silhouette of each other as we undressed. We were deliberate, sensual in how we moved, building the anticipation of wha
t was to come.

  We pulled back the covers together and, totally naked, entered the bed. My erection was so hard Kathy noticed when we embraced. “Damn. You got a log down there.”

  “Ain’t nothing changed.”

  “I see—or rather, I feel.”

  “But, listen,” I said, “don’t we need a condom?”

  “Yes. I have one in my purse.”

  I was going to ask why, but at that point, I didn’t care. Pussy makes a man mind get tunnel vision. All I could see was her tunnel.

  “This might not last that long,” I warned Kathy. “I haven’t had any in going on three months.”

  “Sometimes, it’s better to have none at all than to have something that does nothing for you. And that’s been my situation for a long time.”

  “We’re talking too much about stuff that has nothing to do with the beauty of this moment,” I said. I had no idea where that sentence came from. I guess it was from the heart. Whatever the case, it worked because we stopped talking and began kissing, kissing like teenage kids in love for the first time in the backseat of their parents’ Buick.

  It was all so romantic. She was not another man’s wife in that moment. She was my woman. I felt her love in the passion. I just hoped she felt mine, too.

  I had enough foreplay—I was about to explode before anything really happened. I would not be able to take that embarrassment, so I stalled.

  “Kathy, this is very special to me,” I said. I was buying time to regroup, but I was serious. “Being here with you like this, it feels like when we were together a long time ago. I wish the circumstances were different. But it still feels right.”

  “I’m a married single woman, if that makes any sense,” Kathy said, falling back on a pillow. Looking at the ceiling, she added: “If I was here with someone else, maybe I’d feel guilty. With you, I feel absolutely no guilt.”

  I had calmed down by then, and leaned in to kiss her again. We frolicked around for several seconds and somehow, amid all the groping and squeezing and kissing, we almost effortlessly rolled on that condom. I guess two horny and determined people working together accomplished a lot.