Good Harbor
The wind shifted and the scent of beach roses reached her. It was such a sweet aroma, though it always made her feel wistful. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the smell, which faded in and out on the breeze. Starlight and roses. Lucky me.
She woke up with Buddy sitting beside her, frowning. A cotton blanket was tucked around her toes and neatly folded below her chin.
“What time is it?” she asked, confused by the dim light.
“Five-thirty. You should have woken me up.”
“Oh, Buddy. What’s the point? Why should you be exhausted all day?”
“I just want to do something for you, Kath.”
“Well then, get me a cup of coffee,” she said, yawning.
The clouds were low, and it smelled like rain. No walk today, she thought. Buddy brought out two cups. “How about if I drive you to your appointment today? Miguel can open. We could get some breakfast after?”
Kathleen looked at him. He was asking her for something. “What is it, Buddy? What’s the matter?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to help you. Something. But there’s nothing to do. You’re so quiet. I miss you.”
“I have been kind of preoccupied.”
“Of course,” Buddy said, quickly apologetic. “I don’t know what I mean.”
“Sure, why don’t you drive me in today. And then we can go over to the Spar for breakfast. It’s been a long time since I had those blueberry waffles.”
Buddy took her hand and kissed it. She held on, swung her legs around, and pulled herself to standing.
“I don’t want to die, Buddy.” She put her head on his chest. “I know this cancer probably won’t kill me. But I think about dying all the time. I dream about it. What do you think? Do I get to see Pat on the other side, or do I just lie there in the dirt forever?”
Buddy took the cup out of her hand and put it down gently. It was so much a gesture out of a movie, Kathleen almost laughed. Buddy wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. “I think dead is dead,” he said softly, near her ear. “But that’s not so bad. I think of it as following. Following the rest of them.”
“The rest of them?” She leaned back and looked up into his eyes.
“Yeah. My mother and father. Your sister, your mom. But not just them. All of them. All of us. People.” He dropped his voice and she wasn’t quite sure if he said, “Danny.”
“I don’t know,” he continued. “Maybe it’s just a way to feel less lonesome about the whole thing, but I think of dying as a path we all go down separately at first, but eventually, together.”
Kathleen looked up at her husband. “That’s so beautiful. Where did that come from?”
He smiled. “Y
ou’re not the only deep one around here.”
Kathleen shook her head. “Buddy, you’re a fucking well.”
“Kathleen Mary Elizabeth! Such language.”
“We cancer patients can say whatever the hell we want,” she said, defiant.
“Says who?”
“Says Joyce.”
“Oh, well, if the wise and wonderful Dr. Joyce says so.”
Kathleen sneezed.
“Time to go inside,” Buddy said.