Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (16 page)

“What kind of symptoms did you have?”

“I guess it’s different for everybody,” she said, “but for me it
was like having a really heavy period for two months straight. It was so messed
up. Very unpleasant.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And the last reason I was lucky is that chlamydia is curable.
So I went to the health clinic and got some medicine for it, and then I was
okay.”

“Whoa.”

“I know. So many of them aren’t curable, and they’re becoming
more common all the time.”

I nodded.

“I’d say I don’t mean to scare you but that’s exactly what I’m
trying to do.”

“Yeah, well. It’s working.”

“Good. Cause there are many things I want for you, but a dangerous,
infected vagina isn’t one of them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Never be a fool. Always wrap his tool.”

I laughed. “Where did you get that?”

Dawn shrugged. “From a pamphlet in the waiting room.”

I shook my head and buckled my seat belt.

“You get the message though?”

“I do,” I said, sticking the key in the ignition. “So what
happened to the boyfriend?”

“Who gives a shit? Don’t get me wrong. I know he didn’t mean to
give me chlamydia, but it was no accident that he fooled around behind my
back.”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s natural for people to come and go from your life. All
you can do is try to take the good memories with you and learn from your
mistakes. Including the people that were mistakes.”

I swallowed.

She looked out the window and lowered her voice so much she was
almost talking to herself. “The best you can hope for is that your mistakes
don’t follow you around for the rest of your life.” Then she turned back to me.
“That’s where safe sex comes in.”

“Right.”

“Nothing will follow you like the mistakes you make when you
have unprotected sex.”

“I get it.”

“Good,” she said. “Would you mind swinging through the Dairy
Queen drive thru on the way home?”

“Sure.”

“I’d like to spoil my dinner with a dipped cone.” She smiled.
“Just in case they don’t have them in Hell.”

“You mean Heaven?”

She shrugged. “It’s all the same,” she said. “Just like it is
here.”

Tina agreed to come over while Kate was at school because I
didn’t have the energy to meet her out, and I was too sick to put off making
the arrangements for after my death any longer. But it was surreal trying to
think of myself in the past tense, trying to think of everything so I wouldn’t
be a burden after I died.

I hoped my friends and family would celebrate my life. I hoped
they might mention me from time to time after I was gone. I knew at least a few
of them would. What I was going to give to Tina would make sure of that.

But it wasn’t going to be easy to look my best friend in the eye
and ask her to tie up my loose ends. Unfortunately, I was out of options and
out of time. All I could do was try and make it through another day and hope Tina
could be strong for both of us.

At least I was home. At least I was going to spend my last
nights in my own bed with my favorite mug and the knowledge that Snarls was
being looked after.

I can’t believe I thought I could gallop off into the South
American sunset and outrun this thing. Like dying was going to be like bursting
into flames. Cause it wasn’t like that at all. It was more like being a tiny
flickering candle. Like I was on the verge of becoming so weak that a strong
gust of wind might extinguish me at any moment.

If Kate hadn’t shown up when she did, I would be dying in a
dirty hostel somewhere without my pain pills, surrounded by strangers. And even
though I didn’t recognize myself anymore, at least I was around people who
loved me enough to pretend they could still see me through my cancerous cloak.

It made me want to cry to see how sweet everyone was being, but
I didn’t even have the energy to feel sorry for myself.

At least I finished my book. Or my letter. Whatever it was. My
thoughts. And I was glad because I found working on it satisfying. Like it
would’ve been worth it even if no one ever read it.

Recording what I learned over the years helped me find some
peace, some closure. It was almost like I didn’t know how I felt about things
until I wrote about them. And even though it wasn’t going to change the world,
I had fun with it.

It was a shame I wasn’t counseling anymore because I would have
recommended writing to all my clients. It seemed to me that people who weren’t
dying had even more to gain from the clarity that written self-reflection could
provide.

Best of all, working on it made me feel like I was in control of
something despite everything, and I liked the pressure of trying to immortalize
my thoughts. Especially when I could do it by performing an act as simple as
arranging words. It was like doing the best kind of puzzle, a puzzle that could
be put together any way I wanted.

I was so proud of it I wanted to give it a name.
Thoughts on
Life by an Old Cancerous Fart.
Or
Letters From Beyond.
Or
Six
People You Should Sleep With
- though that only scratched the surface of
what I tried to cover. It was too bad
Ps I Love You
was taken. That
pretty much said it all. But I couldn’t decide on anything. So I’d have to let
it speak for itself.

When the doorbell rang, I already had two drinks and a plate
full of store bought brownies on the coffee table. I figured just because my
appetite was shit didn't mean other people didn't have to eat. And I wasn’t
dead yet. I could still appreciate the smell of decadent chocolate brownies,
especially since I’d given up the cigs.

“Dawn.” Tina stepped in the doorway and gave me a hug that was
big, but not too tight.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?” Tina asked as she made her way to the
couch.

“Not as bad as I look.”

She smiled.

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s kind of a drag for me to ask you
to do all this stuff, but-”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m happy to help.”

“Okay.” I lowered myself down on the sofa. I knew I was the one
that had changed, but I swear Tina looked better than ever. I leaned over and
grabbed my checklist off the coffee table and sighed.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she suggested.

“The beginning.”

“Like right after you die, what do I have to do?” She teared up.
“Before I fall apart.”

I reached out and held her hand for a second. “Okay.” I scanned
the list then I slid a bag out from under the coffee table and reached inside.
“First of all, I want to be cremated.”

“Cremated?”

“Yeah. It’s not like there’s a church full of people that need
to say goodbye to me, and I don’t even believe in God or Heaven or any of that
stuff. So I don’t want to be buried in line with a bunch of people like the Terracotta
Warriors. I want to do my own thing.”

“What if I want to visit you?”

I tilted my head. “Well I suppose you can visit me wherever you
want because I really don’t care what you do with my ashes.”

“You don’t care?”

“No,” I said. “Surprise me.”

“Surprise you?”

“Yeah, I honestly don’t care if you chuck me out the window on a
windy day or put me in the river or flush me down the toilet. Just surprise
me.”

She shook her head. I knew her religiosity was mostly a ruse for
her god-fearing husband, but she obviously didn’t approve. “I’m not going to
flush you down the toilet, Dawn.”

“It wasn’t my first choice. I just want you to be open to the
possibilities. You could always put me in the ashtray of your car, and I could
drive around with you wherever you go.”

“I’m not going to do that either. I’ll do anything you want. All
you have to do is ask.”

“I want to be surprised.”

She sighed. “Fair enough.”

“I can be specific about what I’d like to wear, though.” I lifted
a pair of pants out of the bag. “I want to be burned in these jeans and a white
t-shirt.”

“Jeans? Really?”

“Yeah. Why not?” I asked. “You can go anywhere in jeans.”

“I guess.”

“I was going to wear my leather jacket or my leather pants, but
Kate might want them.”

“Good thinking.”

“Actually, I want you to offer her all my clothes and jewelry.
But tell her I don’t expect her to keep everything. Just whatever she wants.”

“Okay.”

“Same goes for my apartment.”

“Your apartment?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s almost paid off, and it’s the only thing
of any value I have to leave her.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was hoping that if she
doesn’t want to live here right away- like if she goes to school out of state-
you could keep an eye on it or help her find a renter or something?”

“Of course.”

“That way she’ll have an asset and some spending money.”

“Leave it with me, Dawn. I’ll look after her like she was my
own.”

“I know, Tina. Thanks. You have no idea how much that means to
me.” I felt a lump in my throat. “I know Carol can look after her like she
always has, but I want to help.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I understand.”

“I thought maybe I could put you in charge of my pictures, too?”
I pointed down the hallway towards my room. “They’re all in shoe boxes in my
closet. There’s one for you, one for Carol, and one for Kate. Your box has some
souvenirs from trips we went on, too. I thought you’d appreciate that stuff
more than anyone.” When I looked back at her, her eyes were watering. 

“Thanks,” she said.

“And there’s one more thing.”

“Go on.”

“I finally wrote it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” I reached into the bag and pulled out a fat manila
envelope.

Tina’s face erupted into a huge smile. “That’s wonderful, Dawn.
Really amazing.”

“I have to admit I enjoyed it,” I said. “And I have you to thank
for encouraging me to finally do it.”
You and Madame Ursula
.

“Can I read it?”

I smiled. “Of course you can read it,” I said. “I’m going to
give you the only two copies that exist on Earth. It’s a
very
limited
edition.”

“Would you sign mine?”

“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “The only thing is would you not read
it until I…”

She nodded.

“And would you give the other one to Kate? It has her name on
it.”

“Of course.”

“Hers is a little bit different.” I slid the envelope back in
the bag. “Because there were some extra things I wanted to say.”

“So why don’t you say them? Why not let her read it now?”

“Cause what we have right now isn’t broken,” I said. “It isn’t
fragile. It’s strong, and I don’t want to fuck that up.”

“I suppose you’ve thought about it more than I have.”

I nodded. “I don’t want to alienate her. Not now. Not when I
need things to be as normal as they can be.”

“You don’t know that what you have to say would push her away.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’m not willing to risk it.”

“I’m sure you know what’s best.”

“I don’t, Tina. You know I don’t. I never have. The only thing I
know is a good thing when I see it, and Kate in my life right now is a good
thing.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

“It’s everything on my list. But I’ll tell you if I think of
anything else.”

“Good cause there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” she said.
“You’re my best friend.”

“I know.” I sighed. “I hate to ask you to do any of this
though.”

“I just can’t believe this is all really happening,” she said,
her voice shaking. “It’s seems so surreal.”

“I know.”

I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. Instead,
she just lay down, put her head in my lap, and wrapped her hands around my
thigh. So I rested one hand on her shoulder and the other on her head and
leaned back against the pillows.

And suddenly I realized that was all we’d ever done. Held each
other. Often up and never down. While the world spun around us like a
hurricane. Because that’s what friendship is.

It’s the eye of the storm.