Bright Side (28 page)

(Kate)

I’ve avoided Grounds every day this week because I knew seeing Keller would crush me. I’ve decided that maybe some distance between us is the best option. After the trip to Chicago, and then the kiss, I can no longer deny the feelings I have for him. But the fact that he might feel the same way in return? That worries me for many reasons.

Number one: I am not a selfish person. I never have been and I don’t want to start at this point in my life. Pursuing him would be totally self-serving.

Number two: Guilt. Guilt would be a direct result of number one. And guilt is way too close to regret. I don’t want any regrets.

That leads to number three: Trust. Keller called me on it. He was dead on. Trust and my heart are linked. If I trust you it means I’ve let you into my heart. And I trust you not to hurt me. The pinnacle of trust, the trust I’ve never afforded to anyone, is the scariest: true love. It goes back to the whole fairy tale thing. And every time I let myself slip and imagine my own fairy tale, it always involves trusting my heart to Keller. And lately that feels right and warm and comforting. Which leads my mind to circle immediately back to number one.
I am not selfish
.

This is the cycle that keeps driving me away from the pursuit of anything more than friendship with Keller. But friendship is the reason I can’t cut him out of my life completely. I want his friendship. It makes me feel happy, giddy even. It’s like a drug. And I function so much better when I’m on it. That’s why I decide to walk to Grounds. Also
: I’m also dying for a good cup of coffee. My body may shutdown completely without it.

And my body, that’s another thing. She’s very unhappy with me lately. Just normal functioning has become a struggle. The pain’s become so intense that ibuprofen doesn’t touch it anymore. It’s a pain that’s unrelenting and constant. It bears down, like it’s compressing me from the inside out. It keeps me awake at night. It’s even found a way to physically alter my appearance. I’ve lost a few pounds. I can tell because my jeans are looser than usual. It also shows in my face. My skin looks pale, and there are dark circles beneath my eyes. I knew it would come to this, so I grudgingly made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon with Dr. Connell. I haven’t been in to see him since my first visit in late August. I’m sure he’s not happy because he wanted to see me every month. His office calls me every few weeks. I ignore the calls. I know it’s immature, but it’s my way of dealing with this, and I’ve been managing pretty well with ibuprofen and extra sleep when I can get it.

When I arrive at Grounds, Keller is behind the counter. His greeting isn’t the usual easy-going, friendly one I’m used to. “Hey,” is all I get.

I understand. I totally understand.

I try to smile, but it’s hard. I don’t fake it very well; at least that’s what Gus has always told me. I’m a terrible liar. Withholding information I’m good at, but flat out lying? I’m terrible. “Hey,” I respond.

He pours my large coffee and hands it to me in silence. I hand him my birthday gift card as payment. He completes the transaction without a word. He still hasn’t looked me in the eye.

There’s no one else here, but I whisper anyway. “Listen, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Too late.” His tone is harsh. A beat later he shakes his dropped head. “That was rude. Sorry.” It’s then that his eyes finally meet mine. The hurt in them disappears with a start, and morphs into concern. “What’s wrong? Are you sick, Katie?”

Keller hasn’t seen me all week so it’s probably more obvious to him than to someone I see every day. “Yeah.” Part of me wants to lay it all out on the table. “I’ve got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow afternoon.”

His posture is stiff. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do. I could really use a hug right now. But it’s not in my nature to ask for comfort or consoling, so I raise my cup in the air. “Have a good Thursday, dude. Tell Stella I said hi to her and Miss Higgins when you talk to her tonight.”

He nods. “I will.” He looks worried. “Let me know how your appointment goes.”

(Kate)

The appointment with Dr. Connell is every bit as depressing and hopeless as I hoped it wouldn’t, but knew it would be. Same tests, worse results—more
news
. I can’t really call it bad news at this point, it’s just
news
. I vowed when this all began that I wouldn’t feel sorry for myself, but on the drive from Minneapolis back to Grant, I decide to give myself until midnight to wallow in it.

Wallow like a
motherfucker
.

I now have a prescription for some stronger pain meds, which I stop and get on my way home, but by the time I reach the dorms I decide that tonight I will medicate with alcohol. I’ll drink until I’m numb. Until I can’t feel the pain.
Until I can’t remember what I’m trying to forget. I’ll figure out how to cope with this again tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to forget.

Forget like a
motherfucker
.

I turn my cell phone off as I walk down the hall to my dorm room, and throw it in my bag. As luck would have it, Sugar is here. My plan for all-out ruination is falling into place. “Hey dude, how much alcohol do you have in here?” I don’t know who buys it for her but the girl always has alcohol hidden in her closet. I think it’s part of the entertainment when her suitors come calling.

She looks a little shocked. We don’t talk much and it’s not like me to bust through the door asking questions, making demands, especially something like this. “Umm, I don’t know. What’re you looking for?”

“Not beer, other than that I don’t care.”

I’ve thrown her off her game and she’s too confused to give me any of her usual attitude. “Okay. Let’s see.” She rifles through her closet and pulls out a bottle of cheap wine, a fifth of whiskey that’s almost empty, and a pint of vodka that’s three quarters full. She seems disturbingly excited to show off her stash. In the world of illegal activity, this is child’s play. Still, she’s grinning like a crime lord flaunting her illicit business. I file the thought away and vow to address Sugar’s inevitable train wreck at a later time. A time when I’m not in the midst of my own fucking derailment. Maybe tomorrow.

I fish through the pocket of my jeans and pull out a twenty. I throw it on the floor and snatch up the vodka. “Thanks.” I check my other pocket to make sure I’ve got my dorm room key, unzip my coat, stuff the bottle inside, zip it up, and walk out the door without another word.

It’s time for dinner, but I skip it in favor of the bottle in my coat. It’s cold outside so I head to the closest building that’s least likely to be occupied on a Friday night, the library. I know this because I’ve spent plenty of Friday nights here. The same guy is always working the desk, and he’s usually asleep by 9:00. I could sit in the stacks drinking all night and never see another soul.

So, that’s exactly what I do. I find a little corner in the biography section, plop down on the carpet, and pull out my bottle. I pace myself because I’m shooting for incapacitation, not death. The vodka burns going down. I’ve never liked the taste of straight alcohol. It’s flammable, for God’s sake, and it tastes that way. The warmth starts radiating from my belly and soon enough my ears are hot and I can’t feel my nose or my fingertips. The titles on the spines of the books on the shelf next to me start to blur. I take another glug. The next time I glance at them, the books themselves are barely distinguishable from each other—they’re hazy strips of color lined up next to each other. I’m having a little trouble reading the clock on the wall behind me because every time I tilt my head to try to focus the room starts spinning. I think it says 11:45. My time’s almost up. It’s almost midnight.

Good thing the bottle is almost empty. I drain the last few drops and stuff it back in my coat. For some reason I feel like it’s time to take a walk. I wander back out into the cold, leaning toward the dorms, but at the last second my feet decide to stumble on a new course. I take a right toward Main Street.

(Keller)

The beating on the door wakes me. I squint at my clock. Without my glasses it’s hard to read. 12:47am. The beating starts up again. Dunc must’ve forgotten his key. I thought he was staying at Shel’s tonight. I strip the covers back and stretch before I climb out. I’m only in my boxers, and I turn away as the cold air pours in from the open door, shocking my bare skin. “What the hell, Dunc? Hurry up.” No one steps inside.

When I look back outside, I realize that it’s not
Dunc … it’s Katie. A Katie I don’t recognize. If she looked sick yesterday, it’s nothing compared to tonight. She looks pallid and frail. Defeated. She’s soaking wet. It’s snowing and I wonder how long she’s been outside. Her teeth are chattering and her lips look blue. She’s wearing her plaid wool coat, but no hat or gloves. It’s not much above zero.

She still hasn’t stepped inside. She’s waiting on me. I grab her arm and pull her. “Get in here.” She stumbles and I catch her by the arm. Her eyes blink too slowly. “Are you drunk?”

“You always have been one of the smartest people I know,” she says, her speech slow and deliberate.

I half carry her to the loveseat and make her sit down. I take off her shoes and when I unzip her coat to take it off, an empty bottle of vodka falls out.

I pick it up. “Did you drink all of this?”

She squints at the bottle in my hands and nods. “Yes. I did.” As small as she is, that would be like me drinking a fifth in a night, which I know from experience is not a good idea.

Her hands and face feel like ice. “How long have you been outside?” Every piece of clothing is soaking wet.

She shrugs pitifully.

All I can think about is getting her warm first, and sober second. I take her hand in mine and when she stands slowly I walk her to the bathroom. I place her in the shower and pull her shirt over her head. She has bandages wrapped around both arms at her elbows. She said she was going to the doctor today. They must’ve drawn blood. The thought brings a lump to my throat. Is she in pain? Is everything okay? Seeing this kills me. When I unbutton and unzip her jeans she doesn’t protest. I don’t think she even knows what’s going on. As I peel the wet denim down her legs I can’t help but think about how many times I’ve fantasized about this very moment. I also can’t help but think about how wrong it feels right now. I’m kneeling in front of her. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” I say. I flinch from her cold fingers when she does. After she steps out of the jeans I turn her so she’s facing away from me. I don’t want to see her this way. My stomach clenches and I feel like I’m violating her. I close my eyes and unfasten her bra. After slipping her arms out of the straps, I drop it on the floor behind me. Then I pull down her panties. My eyes still squeezed shut tight, I feel around on the wall to turn on the water. I give her a warning, like I would with Stella. “I’m turning on the water, Katie. I want you to stay in here until you warm up, okay?”

“Okay.” She sounds so tired.

I gather her wet clothes and put them in the dryer before I put on a T-shirt. I decide to grab a T-shirt and a pair of boxers for her, too. I don’t have anything that will fit her, so we’ll have to make due until her clothes are dry.

I knock on the door before I enter the bathroom because I feel like a pervert just barging in. Hell, I feel like a pervert knocking first, too. “You doing all right, Katie?”

“Yeah, I’m warm.” Her voice echoes from inside the shower.

“Give yourself another minute. You were freezing. I’m going to leave a towel and some clothes here on the floor. Take your time.”

Five minutes later I hear the water shut off. I walk to the closed door and listen in case she falls down or needs me. I hear her bang into the wall a few times but she sounds like she’s doing all right, so I take a seat on my recliner to wait.

When the door opens and she comes out, she still looks drunk but she doesn’t look so miserable anymore. The T-shirt is so long on her that I can’t see the boxers underneath, which is unbelievably sexy. Her hair is twisted up in a towel the way only girls know how to do. She’s more alert. “Thanks, Keller.”

“You hungry?”

She stops to think. It takes longer than it should. “A little. I didn’t eat dinner. It was a liquids-only evening.”

“Well then, let’s get you something more substantial,” I say. I reheat the leftover fettuccine alfredo I made earlier tonight. I didn’t put chicken in it like I usually do. I guess I was thinking about Katie.

It takes her forever, but she finishes every last bite. I don’t mind because it gives me an excuse to look at her mouth. And to think about how it tasted, how soft it was when I kissed her less than a week ago.

The fork clinks against the empty plate when she sets it down and it brings me back out of my daydream. “That was really good, Keller.”

I smile because she sounds almost like herself again. “Thanks. How’re you feeling?” She looks better, too.
She’s removed the towel from her head and her hair is dry but untamed. She looks like Katie again.

“Pretty good right now. My plan seems to have worked. Probably not so good in the morning though.”

I don’t share with her that it is morning. It’s after 2:30. “Probably not so good in the morning,” I agree. “What do you mean your plan worked?”

She shakes her head like she doesn’t want to talk about it. The arm bandages are gone. Bruises and angry needle pricks revealed that were hidden underneath before. I point and she immediately folds her arms across her chest to hide them. “Did you see the doctor today?”

She nods.

“Did they figure out what’s wrong?”

She huffs and it’s bitter. “They already knew.” She stretches her arms out in front of her. They look worse held out for me to see. My stomach hurts again. “This is what they do to make themselves feel better. To feel like they’re doing their jobs.” The bitter huff again. “It’s a game though, because it doesn’t change anything.” She draws out the word “anything” like it’s three distinct words.

Something is very wrong. I feel like throwing up. “What doesn’t change, Katie?”

She looks up at me and smiles, but it’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen, because it’s her most honest, genuine smile paired with hopeless eyes. “The end.”

The needle on my anxiety gauge just pegged out. My heart is racing. “What’s going on?

She doesn’t answer and this eerie silence settles between us.

I’m shaking now, I’m so worked up. I’m nervous, and I’m scared, and I’m frustrated.
Out of desperation, I yell, “Tell me what in the hell is going on!”

Nothing. She’s just sitting there, but she’s starting to tremble.

More yelling, “I love you, Katie!” It’s a declaration and a promise. It’s also clarification, because I don’t know what’s going through her mind, but she needs to know how much I care about her. How much I love her.

Her bottom lip starts quivering and her eyes fill with tears. “Please don’t say that.”

I pull my hair because I don’t know what else to do with myself. “Dammit, I love you. Why is that such a bad thing? I know you love me, too.
Just let me in
. Say it.” My patience is shot.

The tears chase each other down her cheeks and she sniffs. “I do. I love you.” Her voice is quiet and defeated.

This is not the way you want to hear someone tell you they love you. It guts me. I sigh and look at the ceiling before looking back at her and without knowing why, I’m yelling again. I can’t stop yelling. “Then what’s the problem?! You love me! I love you!”

She’s reached her limit and erupts back, “
That’s
the fucking problem! You love me back! It was never supposed to be this way!”

“Goddammit, Katie,” I sigh. “That’s not your choice to make. It’s mine. I fell in love with you. It would’ve happened whether you loved me back or not. It’s impossible not to love you. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met in my life. Why can’t I love you?
Why
?”

She stands, throws her arms in the air, and screams like I’ve never heard anyone scream before. It’s painful and lonely. It’s fear and rage
. It’s exasperation. “Because
I’m
dying, that’s why
! I have cancer!” She drops back into the loveseat like the words drained her of all energy. “I’m dying,” she says, her words turning to sobs.

I feel like someone just stabbed me in the heart. The pain I felt when Lily died was the worst I’ve ever experienced in my life … until this moment.
It feels like someone is twisting the knife only to pull it out and plunge it back in again. Over and over. My heart just broke, for the second time in my life. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.

Eventually she wipes the tears from her face with her forearm. I’m moments away from panic when the shift happens. I realize that she’s staring at me. And when Katie holds you in a stare … she
holds
you. You
feel
it. It’s physical, like you’re pinned in place, unable to move, unable to breathe. She stands, walks over, and stops when her knees come to rest against mine. I’m at her mercy and despite what just happened, there’s no place I’d rather be. She looks down at me sitting in front of her with those unfathomable jade eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Her eyes never leave mine. “Keller, if I asked you for a favor, would you do it?”