Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (13 page)

“Oh?”

“You do want to look at some campuses before you decide, right?”
she asked. “You can tell a lot about a place from visiting.”

“Yeah, of course. That would be great if we could do that… if
it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” she said. “I think it’s important. You can’t tell
anything from the brochures.”

“No kidding.” Every brochure featured the same cheesy pictures
of students. They were always perfectly posed in action or ethnic diversity as
if the colleges were all using the same stock photo site.

“So maybe you could start making a list of where you think you’d
like to visit so we don’t leave it to the last minute.”

“Okay. I will.” My chest swelled with anticipation. Freedom was
on the horizon. “Maybe Dawn can come, too.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll we could at least ask her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“She might not have the energy for that sort of thing.”

“The energy? What are you talking about? Why do you hate her so
much? I don’t unders-”

“I don’t hate her.”

“You do hate her! You always have!”

“Kate.” Her voice was stern and serious. I hadn’t heard such a
scary tone in weeks. 

“What?”

“I don’t hate her. She’s my sister.” The whites of her eyes
grew. “But she hasn’t been feeling well lately and-”

“What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

“No she’s not. She’s sick.”

I threw my hands in the air. “She’s not sick.”

“Yes she is. That’s why she stopped working.”

I knew Dawn had a nasty smoker’s cough, but she seemed fine
otherwise. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?”

“I think you should ask her,” she said. “It’s really not my
place.”

“Just tell me what the fuck-”

“Kate!”

“If it’s so serious, why hasn’t she told me herself?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down into her lap. “I’m as surprised
as you are that she hasn’t.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re wrong.”

“I wish I were.” She stacked her bowl on her plate and wiped her
mouth with her napkin. “But she’s just putting on a brave face.”

I felt desperate and betrayed. “Brave? You’re so dramatic.
You’re acting like she’s gonna die or something.”

After that my Mom didn’t say anything. But she didn’t have to.

I used to hope I would die before my friends. I guess that’s why
they say be careful what you wish for.

Then again, if things had worked out with Scott, I would’ve
wanted to be the last to go. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a day with him.
Even now when I think of how he made me laugh, the nostalgia is so painful it
makes my heart ache.

He used to make me laugh so hard it gave me cramps. I would beg
him to stop when I would catch my breath between giggles, but he wouldn’t. He
would just keep doing the voice or the impression or the silly dance that had
set me off.

And he was smart. Which made me feel smart. Before we got
together I could hold my own with just about anybody. But something about being
with him made me feel cleverer than anything else ever had.

Healthy self-esteem is one thing, but being loved by someone who
is funnier, smarter, and better looking than you is the best drug on Earth.

It’s ridiculous to admit how happy I was to wake up beside him
every day for three years. Honestly, I was so excited every morning when I saw
his face crushed against his pillow, I could’ve fist pumped. I wouldn’t trade
those years for anything.

Not that I could if I wanted to. That time with him is too deep
under my skin, too much a part of me.

As far as what became of Scott, I heard he became a newsreader
in Texas. Which wasn’t too surprising because they say everything is bigger
there, and he was larger than life. He wasn’t a journalist when I knew him,
though. So he must’ve slept with the right person or gone back to school after
his drug monster years like I had.

I didn’t know if he was married or if he had kids. I was afraid
finding out the truth would only hurt me. Plus, I liked my version of events
better. That he was in a loveless relationship with his disposable, buck
toothed secretary and cried big hiccupping tears of regret that soaked his
pillow every night as he fell asleep looking at my picture.

Of course, I knew it was much more likely that he had moved on.
Like I had. Sort of.

I just wish I could’ve had some closure. I wanted to look back
and be happy with what we had, but I couldn’t help but feel that our story had
been cut short.

The damage was done as soon as he suggested I get an abortion.
That’s when he really broke my heart. I knew neither of us was crazy about the
idea of having kids, but I didn’t think it was a deal breaker.

I was wrong.

When he left, I was so depressed it was scary. All I wanted to
do was go on a massive bender so I could get fucked up and recognize myself
again. Which is when I knew that I had no business trying to raise a kid. After
all, the most stable relationship in my life at that point was the one I had
with my drug dealer.

So I did the best I could at the time, and I was a perfect
mother for nine months. And then I let myself off the hook.

When I got back to Dawn’s apartment, she had her feet up on the
coffee table and was typing away on her laptop as usual.

“Hi Kate.” She closed her laptop and looked at me. “How was
lunch?”

“Good,” I said. “Lunch was good.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Panera.”

“Yum.”

“I should’ve offered to bring you something.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t have much of an appetite today.” She
leaned forward and set her computer on the coffee table. “How’s Carol? I bet it
was nice to see her.”

“It was. She’s fine.” I sat on the arm of the couch. “Better
than you anyway from what I gather.”

Dawn pulled her feet onto the couch and tucked them underneath
her body. “Sorry?”

“Are you sick?”

I watched her chest sink as she exhaled. “I am, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I slid off the arm of the couch and plopped
down on the cushion beside her.

“Because you have enough to worry about.”

I thought Dawn was different. But she wasn’t. She was like every
other adult in my life, hiding things from me and deciding what I could and
couldn’t handle. “I thought we were being open and honest with each other? I
thought this was a two way street?”

“I’m sorry, Kate. I’ve hardly told anyone.”

“But you could’ve told
me.
”

“I know.” She nodded. “And I should’ve.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Dawn shrugged and turned towards me. “I guess I didn’t want to
be treated differently. Just because I’m sick.”

“Well that I can understand.”

“Plus I’m in denial half the time.”

I swallowed. “What’s wrong with you exactly?”

Dawn furrowed her brow. “Carol didn’t say?”

“She said it was your thing to tell,” I said, “but she seemed
surprised you hadn’t told me.”

She took a deep breath. “I have Lung Cancer.”

I stared at her.

“It’s inoperable.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She
leaned back against the pillows and hugged her knees to her chest.

“How long do you have?”

“Probably a few weeks if I’m lucky.”

“If you’re lucky!” I jumped in my seat. “And you didn’t think I
should know?!”

“You have your own stuff.”

“But you’re
dying
! That’s way more serious than my
stuff
!”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Look at it this way. There’s only hope for one of us.”

I felt a lump in my throat and tried to swallow it, but I
couldn’t. “But if I’d known I could’ve tried to help.” I looked down into my
lap.

Dawn shook her head. “It can’t be helped. It is what it is.”

I felt sick. How could Dawn put the fact that she was dying on
the back burner to deal with my pathetic need to throw up? It seemed so stupid.

And then I started to laugh. Really hard. And I couldn’t stop. I
couldn’t even look at her. I was losing it so bad I could barely breathe.

“Are you okay?” She reached out and put a hand on my shoulder.

I was delirious with amusement. “So you’re telling me this whole
time- ever since I got here- you’ve been worrying about my problems and how to
help me get better when you’re actually dying?!”

She pulled her hand back and cocked her head.

I was so mortified at my own selfishness that tears began
pooling in my eyes. “You’re telling me you’d rather talk to me about
masturbation and potty training toddlers than about your being sick and-”

“Yes.” She smiled but her eyes were sad. “That’s exactly right.”

And that’s when I stopped laughing. Because it finally made
sense. My problems and I were a distraction. That was why she thought I was a
delight.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked. “Like you’ve gotten a second
opinion?”

Then it was her turn to laugh. “Yes,” she said. “And
unfortunately my doctor and my fortune teller agree that I don’t have much
time.”

Jesus. “But are you okay? I mean, I didn’t even know.”

“I’m okay,” she said. “Though I’d be better if I could go back
to being eighteen and quit smoking before it was too late.”

I nodded. “Point taken.”

“But otherwise, I’m just a little tired, and my appetite isn’t
what it used to be. And I’m heavily medicated most of the time.”

“So you’re not really okay at all?”

“No. I guess not.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I knew I’d have to tell you eventually. It’s not like I was
never going to. I just didn’t want to spoil anything. I wanted you to have a
chance to get to know the real me instead of sick me.”

I nodded.

“That’s all.”

“Well I’m going to try to be more attentive from now on. Less self-centered.”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s how you’re supposed to be at your
age.” She pushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. “I’m not sure I ever grew out
of it. And you’ve already done me a big favor by letting me worry about someone
besides myself for a change.”

“No. That’s not right. You shouldn’t have to take care of me.”

“I know that. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. I’m
just here to help if you need me.”

“We can take care of each other from now on.”

Dawn’s mouth formed a straight line.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I can take care of you,
too. Anything you need.”

She smiled and the shallow wrinkles around her eyes deepened.
“You really want to help me?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

“Will you fold the towels in the dryer?”

“The towels?”

“Yeah. I’m just a little tired today.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“No. Just the towels. If you don’t mind.”

“Maybe I could get you a tea or something, too?”

“I’d love a tea, thanks.”

I nodded and headed to the kitchen.

At first I was relieved that I finally knew the truth, but as I
put the kettle on to boil, I couldn’t help but feel that it was all so futile.
No matter what I did, it would never be enough.

And after everything she’d done for me, it didn’t seem fair. All
she had ever tried to do was help people, and now that she needed help, there
was nothing anybody could do.

Kate really made an effort after she found out I was sick. And I
never got the feeling that she resented having to help me with anything. Which
meant a lot. The last thing I wanted was to be a burden.

And I was grateful that Carol spilled the beans when she did.
Telling Carol was hard enough, but I would’ve put off telling Kate until my
last breath if I’d had the choice. Her age made it too difficult. At eighteen,
she was too old to be fed neat explanations of death and too young to be
expecting it to come up.