Seize the Day (22 page)

It was a card I had purchased at Walmart—with a check made out to her for $50,000. That's not life-changing money on the surface, but for what Kathy faced, it was a way to get from under some bills and find a better life, if she so chose.

I smiled to myself thinking about her expression once she opened the envelope. Moses and I jumped on Interstate 85 South, a straight shot into Atlanta. My first appointment was two days away, and I was actually more frightened than I was excited about it.

Having to take the treatments only reminded me of death, more than of making life better. That was part of the extreme mental struggle that came with knowing there was nothing that could save your life.

After making love to Kathy, I had the best sleep I had since I learned my fate. Most nights, sleeping was something that happened because it was supposed to happen, meaning it came after I was exhausted. It seemed I didn't sleep for a week in the beginning. I just couldn't. Fear ruled.

Love is a powerful force, though. I only experienced it once, with Kathy, and it consumed me. Now that I'm forty-five and dying, it made me sad to know that the other relationships I had with women were something less. Actually, it was less about them than it was about me. To receive love you have to be open to love.

I was so in love with Kathy that twenty years of relationships with other women was just about holding a place until she and I got back together. I didn't know that then. But after one day together, it was all so clear to me.

Knowing my time is coming has given me more clarity about most everything. Things I thought I understood about others and me or never understood all came into focus.

For instance, my daughter's mother, Skylar. I always thought her animosity toward me was about wanting a relationship with me after our child was born. I know now that it was my ego. She just wanted a family for her child.

I realize that as Moses and I took the drive to Atlanta. Skylar texted me, saying “I hope you're hanging in there.” That forced me to think about her and my first thoughts went to her upbringing.

She was raised by her mother after her father left home one day when she was four, and became the victim of a drunk driver. In our good, close times, she talked about how hard it was on her to not have her father, how not having the family structure impacted who she became as a young lady in the dating world.

She told me once, “I was jealous when I'd see my cousins playing with their daddy or my classmates' mothers and fathers at school events. It was just my mom, who sometimes had to work, and me, and it'd be just me and a neighbor who would pick me up. I'd feel so empty. So, when I got older and started developing, men would notice me and I embraced it.”

Skylar then told me something that stunned me. “I was involved in a big scandal. I was dating the assistant basketball coach. He was my history teacher, and he gave me attention and was kind to me and patient with me in class. One day, he said, ‘What do you do for fun? There's a play at a small theater downtown that you should see. I have a ticket that I could leave for you. You can call it extra credit for the class.'

“I was young and dumb. Seventeen. I wanted the extra credit and went to the theater. I got to my seat and then, a minute later, Mr. Randon came in and sat beside me. I was surprised; I didn't know he would be there. I told him that. And he said, ‘What kind of a date would it be if you were to sit here alone?'

“I was shocked, but flattered. He was a handsome man, and there were many girls in my class who used to say how much they liked him or would date him. And there I was sitting there on a date with him. It only led to so much trouble.

“We messed around for about two months. That night after the play, he took me to a restaurant, some place that was beautiful and romantic. We ate dinner. I asked if I could have some wine and he told me I was too young to drink—at a restaurant—but that he had some pretty good wine at his house.

“I know it was stupid, but I loved the attention from a man and I went with him to his house. He got the wine out and, to his credit, said, ‘I don't know if you should have this. Alcohol makes people do things they don't want to do.' And my dumb behind said, ‘Anything I do, I will want to do it.' So, we drank and I got more loose and free and he started complimenting me and the next thing I know, we were in his bed.

“So, every week for about two months I would go see him. Having a man care about me made me feel wanted and loved. But it all blew up because I had a boyfriend. We took Mr. Randon's class together. And me being a silly girl, I wrote a note to him saying I couldn't make it to his house that night we had planned, but the next night would be good.

“Well, my boyfriend, Lee, saw the note. It was in my backpack and he went in there to get a book of his that I had and he found it. He was mad and he took the note to the principal. And all hell broke loose. It was all in the papers and on TV. Mr. Randon was fired. Even though they didn't release my name, people knew it was me. It was totally embarrassing. I had to transfer schools. It was a rough time. And I trace that back to not having a man in my life as I was growing up.”

When she told me that so many years ago, I dismissed it as making an excuse for being a too fast. I couldn't see beyond my disappointment. Now, because I'm forced to look at myself, who I
really
am, what my life really has been, I can see Skylar's view or at least accept that she needed a father in her life—and that her anger with me was not about me not wanting her but more about not wanting Maya to have the same feelings she had.

Believe it or not, I shared much of this with my new dog, Moses, as we drove along. Instead of questioning my sanity, I instead reasoned that Moses was a good listener and I needed to share it with someone who would listen and not interrupt.

In my honest moments, though, I did wonder if I were cracking up. I mean, I detested dogs, but there I was with a stray one who I had grown to need in a day. I glanced over at Moses, sitting upright in the passenger seat, and he seemed so content and at peace. He looked out the window and looked at me and it was just a happy place for both of us.

Moses distracted me from my life. He gave me a purpose, which I definitely felt I had lost once I was told I was going to die. My daughter was doing great and didn't really need me anymore. Well, not that she didn't need me, but she could function without me. It wasn't like she was six or seven and needed me to show or teach her things. She had already reached that point where she had flipped the script and began telling me things I didn't know and teaching me things. I was proud of that. But it also took on a bigger meaning when I got my diagnosis. She didn't need me to survive.

As I was dying, I needed someone to need me. And then along came Moses, as if sent by God. It was strange for a dog to be at that hotel parking lot, looking battered, no one looking for it. A strong feeling came over me to care for him, and that responsibility gave me life, even as my life was slipping away.

I needed the responsibility of something. School was out, so there was no teaching to be done. Plus, I wasn't sure I could concentrate on a curriculum anyway. Caring for Moses did not require deep thought, but it did give me responsibility and something to live for, crazy as that might sound. The dog needed me. I needed the dog.

When we got deep into South Carolina, I asked Moses, “You need to take a leak?” He stood up and wagged his tail. I didn't know what that meant—how could he understand me?—but I took it to mean he did. So, we pulled over at a rest area.

I put him on his leash and we found an open area for him to stretch his legs and roam free. I got so much joy out of seeing that puppy bounce around in the grass without a care in the world. Making sure he was happy took my mind off of my troubles.

I decided we'd stop for about ten minutes and then continue our trek. I sat on the hood of the car and responded to text messages and e-mails as Moses ran around the small field. After a few minutes, I looked up and the people who got out of a car that had pulled up several spaces to our left had a dog, too. A dog bigger than Moses, and the woman immediately let her dog off its leash.

And the dog immediately took off for Moses. My heart practically burst out of my chest.
This big dog was about to eat my dog.
That's all I could think. I hated and really was afraid of dogs, but I bounded off that car hood with no hesitation and charged toward Moses as I yelled for the other dog to stop and the owner to stop it.

“Hey, hey, get back! Get your dog!”

The woman screamed for him to stop, but the dog plowed on. He got to Moses before I did, and went for him with his mouth open. Moses acted like a running back, and eluded him with a swift sidestep, and the big dog went sliding by.

That gave me enough time to scoop up Moses with my left hand and slash that dog across his face with Moses' leash as he came back toward us. “Get back,” I yelled again. He whimpered away.

The woman was irate. “You have no right to hit my dog.”

“Did you see what was happening? He was going to hurt
my
dog. You think I was going to allow that? You should control your dog.”

The woman's husband came over. He was slightly bigger than me but he didn't know I had nothing to lose. Before he could say something, I said, “Man, don't come over here like you're going to do something. You need to control your dog.”

“You need to control
yourself
. What if I hit your dog?”

“If my dog was attacking your dog, then you'd have every right to protect your dog. But that wasn't the case. You have a much bigger dog—damn near a pony—who was not coming over to play with mine. So, I'm not sure what you wanted me to do. What if I didn't get there in time? What do you think would have happened?”

The man was stumped, I think—I didn't wait around for his response. I took Moses to the car and we left. But my heart was pounding. I was so scared that something was going to happen to him. And I could feel the fear in Moses' little body as I held him against mine. He'd already been in a fight, from the look of things, the day I found him.

I drove with my left hand and rubbed his back with my right. “It's OK, Moses. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

He seemed to calm down before I did. I turned on some soothing jazz and rubbed my dog for the next several miles. It scared me to think how I would have felt if Moses had been hurt.

W
e pulled into Atlanta around one o'clock Saturday afternoon—and hit traffic as if it were a weekday. I had heard that Atlanta's traffic was as bad as D.C.'s, and it was no exaggeration. It was bumper-to-bumper from Jimmy Carter Boulevard in Gwinnett County all the way to the Lenox Road exit. I changed my reservation from the W in Buckhead to the Residence Inn on Piedmont Avenue to accommodate Moses.

My GPS got us to the hotel with no problem. I had not traveled much in my life and even with all I had heard about Atlanta, I had not visited. So, there was a level of excitement about finally arriving.

I left Moses in the car as I checked into the hotel. Our room was open, which I liked because it gave Moses some room to roam. I noticed that he seemed so happy and free. The change in just a day was significant. The way he looked at me told me I had taken on a real responsibility.

I found an area that would be Moses' to enjoy. I figured he was hungry, so I put out some food and water and placed his toys nearby. We would be there at least three weeks, so I wanted to establish boundaries. I wasn't even sure if that was possible with a dog. But I knew I didn't want him thinking he could get into the bed with me or climb up on the table.

But the strangest thing happened: I wasn't sure what to do after I finally got to Atlanta. It was Saturday afternoon; my treatment was on Monday. I unpacked, got Moses settled and sat on the bed uncertain of my next move.

Finally, I realized I had not eaten all day. My appetite had all but evaporated, especially after I started having those excruciating moments when my stomach felt like it was going to explode. But I actually had a bit of an appetite, so I took a shower to freshen up. Then I got on the computer and searched for some place I could have a nice meal and kinda feel the city.

I found a place called Negril Village. I checked out the menu and decided on the Ginger Lime Brick Chicken. I had to return Kathy's call first. She had called me three times and texted twice, too.

“Why didn't you answer your phone?”

“I was driving, listening to music, talking to Moses…didn't hear it.”

“Well, are you in Atlanta?”

“Yes, we made it fine. No problems. Took our time and enjoyed the ride. Hit a little traffic when we got close to the city, but we're settled in the room. I apologize. Just wanted to concentrate and make it a peaceful ride.”