Nothing Less (Landon Gibson 2)

She explains that the nurse didn’t say much aside from medical terms Dakota didn’t understand or remember. His body is failing fast, and he hardly has enough money to live, let alone pay these expenses. It deeply bothers me that a man, no matter how unpleasant and downright mean he’s been, can work his whole life and barely have enough insurance coverage to save his life.

“Do you want to go visit him? Are you planning on it?” My fingers trail up and down her arms, comforting her.

“I can’t. I owe rent still, and I’m barely scraping by.”

I look down at her face, but she turns it away, burying herself into my chest.

“Is that the only reason? Money is the only reason you can’t go?”

Despite their history, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dakota didn’t want to see the man before he died. I wouldn’t blame her.

“I don’t want you to pay for it,” she says before I can offer. Dakota lifts her head and looks at me. “I’m sorry I came here. I didn’t know where else to go. My roommates won’t understand, and Maggy isn’t really that great at listening to other people’s problems.”

“Shh.” I stroke her back. “Don’t apologize.” I tilt her chin up to my face.

“Should I even be sad? I can’t decide if I’m sad or relieved. The only reason I think I’m sad is because he’s the last of my family. If he dies, do I even exist? I have no one, Landon.”

I don’t tell her that she hasn’t really had him since she was a little girl. I don’t tell her that deep in my heart I’m not at all sad that he’s dying. Instead, I tell her that it’s okay to feel however she feels. I tell her that she doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for those reactions.

“If I don’t go, no one else will. He won’t even have a funeral. How do people pay for funerals?” Dakota’s voice cracks, and I continue to hold her.

I think about the members of Dakota’s family I’ve met in the past. She has an aunt somewhere in Ohio, her dad’s sister. Her grandparents on her dad’s side are dead, and her grandparents on her mom’s side don’t speak to her anymore. They used to call every week after her mom left, but the calls slowly stopped coming, and we concluded that they gave up hope that Yolanda would ever return from Chicago. Talking to Dakota must have reminded them of the loss of their daughter, and, selfishly, they withdrew from their grandkids.

Carter’s funeral was nearly empty. Only Dakota and I were in the front row. A few teachers from school came and stayed for a couple of minutes, and Julian made an appearance, of course. He left in tears almost immediately. Three assholes from our school came and were chased out by Dakota before they even took a seat on a pew. Forgiveness was not to be found in that small church that day. Everyone else was gone before the service even started.

Dakota’s dad didn’t bother to show up. Neither did Yolanda. No one cried; no one shared happy stories. The pastor pitied us, we could tell, but Dakota wanted to stay for the entire hour to remember her brother.

“Do you think he’ll go to heaven? My dad says God doesn’t let people like him into heaven.”Dakota’s voice was as blank as her eyes.

I tried to keep my voice down so the preacher wouldn’t hear my reply. “I don’t think your dad has any idea who God lets into heaven. If there’s a heaven, Carter’s there.”

“I don’t know if I believe in God, Landon,”Dakota said, and not in a whisper. She wasn’t embarrassed to say that in a church.

“You don’t have to,”I let her know.

I held her tighter, and after ten minutes of silence I went up to the podium and recalled our best times with Carter. With only Dakota in the church, I told an hour of stories, our crazy adventures, the plans for our future; I didn’t stop talking until the pastor politely indicated I should wrap it up.

The funeral for her father would be similar, only this time Dakota would be alone. No one to relive memories for her. I can only think of one positive memory of the man. I hate him more than I knew was possible, so I’m not sure I could bring myself to give him a respectful word or two. Not even in death.

“Come with me. Can you come with me? I’ll help pay. I’ll figure out some way to help pay for