Our Last Time: A Novel (17 page)

Kennedy

Tamara, my momma’s
best friend, was visiting from Oregon. I hadn’t remembered much of her. Only that she was nice, and loved my mother like a sister. She hadn’t visited often. She’d be able to visit once every two years, usually. Her and my mother had gone to high school together.

I heard my momma crying in the bathroom the other night as she talked on the phone with Tamara, and she had told her that I had terminal brain cancer. My momma needed a friend and I needed a solution. I was relieved when my momma told me that Tamara had wanted desperately to talk to me, to give me advice. I had wanted her advice. Tamara had understood death. I hadn’t known
how
or
why
she understood, but she had.

I was starting to develop negative symptoms, and I hadn’t wanted Willow to catch on. I hadn’t wanted Willow to think that I had needed help, or guidance. I wanted Willow to think that I was okay.

I had a plan in my head for our last time saying Hello, and it was difficult because I hadn’t wanted to watch her leave and I hadn’t wanted to live my last days without her.

My and Willow’s last time saying Hello would be the sixteenth of August. She’d be heading to Chicago for college on the seventeenth. I had a lot of things I wanted to get off my chest, a lot of subjects I wanted to touch with her. I wasn’t going to watch her leave without telling her I was in love with her, I couldn’t. I had known that I couldn’t, I just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself.

I wanted to talk to Tamara about pain. I wanted to talk to her about the pain I’d feel emotionally and internally. I wanted to talk to her about Willow.

My momma and I were going to pick her up from the airport at eight-fifteen this morning; we had been on the way now. My momma kept looking at me, smiling, and then she’d squeeze my leg. Leaving her was the second hardest part of this situation.

We made a few quick turns, and I had started feeling dizzy. My stomach had made an uncomfortable gurgling sound. I tugged on my momma’s arm so she’d pull over to the side of the road. I opened the door and hunched over as I dry heaved once. I hung my head for a second before my mouth started watering, and I had thought about all of the different words that had the same meaning as the word
misery
as I then upchucked my breakfast.

Heartache. Distress. Anguish.
Unhappiness.

My mother handed me a Kleenex; I took the cloth and wiped my mouth with it, folding it twice.

“I think it was just car sickness, momma. Nothing serious,” I said reassuringly, as I closed the door at my side.

“I’ll drive slower,” she answered, her voice brittle. Her eyes were as tired as I had ever seen them. They were seemingly a darker blue, and it made me sad. Any changes in my mother’s appearance would make me sad, because I was the cause. Her long, black hair looked thinner.
She
looked thinner.

I turned away and peered out of my window, biting my fist. She was just as unhappy as I was. She had to watch me get sick nearly every morning. There wasn’t even peace; there was just an unsettling silence everywhere. It was different with Willow. I was going to watch her leave in just two short days, and I was overwhelmed. I hadn’t wanted to die like this. It was slow. I was unsure of when would be my last day, I was unsure of when the pain would reach its limit, and I was unsure of what all happened the day before - I wasn’t looking forward to my last days being miserable. I hadn’t wanted to forget my placement, or my happiness. I had a lot of happiness in my life; I hadn’t wanted the misery that I was feeling now to consume it.

We had arrived at the airport. We were quiet. We hadn’t known what to discuss, or if we wanted to discuss anything at all.

“Tamara is going to meet us at the car,” she told me.

The misery was laced in her voice. I wanted to plug my ears. I wanted a cure for the feelings I had, and the feelings my momma had, and the feelings Willow had. I just wanted everyone to be in their usual state of happiness. It was all I ever wanted.

Tamara soon approached the car, and I put her bags in the back as my momma hugged her tightly. Tamara had told me to sit in the car so she and my momma could talk for a moment in private. I had given her a hug before obliging.

From the window, I watched as Tamara talked and my momma continuously nodded her responses. They were teary eyed when I decided to look away. I wanted to know what they were talking about, but I also hadn’t. I had known Tamara wanted to have a particular discussion with me. I was fidgety regarding it. I had options and I was willing to face them, now. I wasn’t scared for myself. I worried for Willow and I worried for my mother. I wanted to accept the fact that I was dying, and I wished everyone else could do the same - but life had hardships and
this
was one of them.

11:03p.m.

I had spent
a few hours with Willow at our home before coming back. Tamara had gotten settled in. We all ate dinner together in the living room and watched the news. My mother gathered our plates and kissed me on the forehead before going upstairs. Tamara’s gaze found me and she smiled. It was a bittersweet smile.

“Where’d you head off to?” she suddenly asked.

“Uh,” I paused. “I was with Willow.”

“Oh,” she said, realization meeting her face. “Isn’t that your best friend?”

“It is,” I nodded slowly.

She sighed. “I know you don’t want the next few days to happen, Kennedy,” she said quietly.

“I don’t think they’re going to be good days,” I simply said. “Willow is leaving for college on the seventeenth.”

She had scrunched her eyebrows together. “Wait, what?” she exasperated. “That’s shocking. I thought she’d stay here…you know, to keep you company,” she went on.

It wasn’t like I’d feel betrayed if Willow decided to go to college rather than stay here, and watch me die away. I was still trying to convince her to go to college. She had plans to just not go, because of my health conditions, but I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I haven’t convinced her to pull through with going, but I will. It’s free med school. It’s all she ever wanted. I’m not going to be the reason she misses out on a huge career opportunity,” I explained.

I studied Tamara’s features. Tan skin, blonde hair. She had green eyes. She was typically bubbly and easygoing. She was a lot more serious-looking compared to what I remembered of her. I hadn’t known if death changed her, or if she was putting on a face for our discussion.

“Do you think things are going to stay the same, or get worse when she leaves?” she asked gently.

I shrugged. “I love Willow more than I love myself. I can’t remember a day I spent without her. So, I guess the answer to that question is
worse
. Undeniably so,” I said in a hoarse voice.

“And your mom,” she said lightly. “Do you feel bad about what she’s witnessing?”

I was offended by the particular question.

“What do
you
think, Tamara?” I asked harshly, raising my eyebrows. “Of course I feel bad. I know I didn’t give myself this tumor that is killing me, but
yes
. I feel bad that my mother has to watch me throw up every morning. I feel bad that she has to watch me lay around because I don’t have the energy to get up. I feel bad that she has to watch me take melatonin to go to sleep during the day, just so I won’t have to feel the headaches anymore. All of it sucks, Tamara.”

All of it sucked
so
much, and I figured she wouldn’t have to ask me a question to find that out.

She inhaled sharply. “It’ll only get worse,” she said.

“I figured so,” I said aloud. “But what’s your point?”

She twiddled her thumbs for a second or two. “What are your thoughts on lethal medication?” she asked slowly.

“I don’t know enough about it,” I said honestly. “But I’d like for you to explain your own thoughts on it if you don’t mind.”

She nodded understandingly. “It’s a prescription called
secobarbital
. It’s legal in Oregon for the terminally ill. Henry, my husband, planned his own death by using this prescription. He decided not to drag out the pain to where he’d only feel pain,” she started, and then had taken a deep breath.

“He wrote a letter to everyone he loved. We had spent his last day together. He took the secobarbital before going to bed, and I woke up next to his lifeless body. Because I expected it, it wasn’t nearly as painful as it would have been if I hadn’t expected it. Of course I grieved; I loved him. I knew he left with his memories on his mind instead of his pain.”

I pulled a tissue from the box sitting on the coffee table before handing it to her. She dabbed the corners of her eyes.

“I think about death all the time, Tamara. I know it’ll be a lot worse once Willow leaves. The pain will be amplified. I’ll feel alone. I’ll only make my momma feel even more terrible,” I said, seemingly counting the excuses - then I thought
what if
.

“Tamara, are you bringing up lethal medication because you have some?” I asked her.

She sat up straighter, and then she had made eye contact with me before slowly nodding her head.

“I have a bottle, yes. I talked to your mom about it first. She says it’s completely up to you. It’s whatever
you
want to do, Kennedy. But you have to tell your mom before you do anything,” she said.

I thought it’d be nice to have the option. I hadn’t needed to make a decision just yet. “I’m saying maybe,” I said finally.

Then that was that, and we had both stood up before heading upstairs.

September 3
rd
, 2006, 8:03a.m.

Willow

Annette and I
had plans to go and see Trace today. She had told me on the phone that she was doing well. She still had not gotten married, which surprised me because she was a beautiful, decent human being. I told her I had something important to tell her. She told me she was free today at any time, and that she might be ready to tell me something else in return, something she had kept repressed for years. I wondered what she meant by that, but she had not given any details. I was eating breakfast with my family and Caitlyn, now. We talked on a few different subjects.

Caitlyn had told me that she was trying to get over her college love, Brian. He had moved on with the other woman, she had said. He wasn’t trying to protect her and I also determined that he couldn’t possibly be Caitlyn’s forever. He turned out way too scummy to be blessed with her love. I told her she deserved better treatment and that she had not needed to be social if she hadn’t wanted to. In a week or two, I’d tell her she’d find the
real
thing someday.

I had been shoveling grits in my mouth when my mother smiled warmly in my direction, and then told me I needed to pick vegetables with her, and take some home. I told her tomorrow morning would be a good time for that.

My dad was just glad we were there. He had been refraining from leaving the house to go to the golf course or the bar, because we were finally
here
again. I loved my father’s smile. He had a good smile, and I had missed it. He still called me kiddo, and I knew that I’d never mind it.

I figured Annette and I would leave right after breakfast. I had known Trace would be awake. She hardly slept from what I remembered, but she was always awake in the early morning. I thought we’d be knocking on her door as she was sipping on her coffee, unfolding the newspaper.

We finished our breakfast as everyone parted ways. Annette and I went outside, and had approached our extra bicycles that we had brought from home last year, when we had driven to visit. I told her I needed to tell her something before we left, and she nodded as she looked up at me. I grabbed her hands.

“So, there isn’t really an easy way to tell you this,” I had begun.

“Is it good or bad news?” she asked before I could continue.

“Good news,” I smiled as she did. “I just made the mistake of not telling you sooner.”

“What is it, mommy?” she pushed.

I sighed. “You have two grandmothers. Trace is-”

“Trace is my nana, too?” she squealed, interrupting me. “That’s
really
good news, mommy.”

“I knew you’d think so,” I grinned. “I have to tell Trace, too, so keep this a secret for mommy to tell.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Pinky swear?” I released her hands, and then held out my pinky.

She crooked hers over mine, and then shook. “Pinky swear,” she promised.

We had gotten on our bikes, and rode off.

9:02a.m.

We arrived at
Trace’s home, and the view of the house had taken my breath away. This was one of my favorite houses. It was big, but it had a
there’s no place like home
feel to it. Annette and I sighed before walking up the porch steps. I rang the doorbell after I had knocked once.

She swung the door open, and Annette was the first to hug her - she had jumped in her arms, really.

“It’s nice to see you, too, bug!” Trace squeezed Annette.

Four years ago, Trace nicknamed Annette ‘bug’. Annette had always liked nature, but she had collected bugs for a little while. She had gotten tired of the caterpillar’s pooping on her hands and stuff. Caitlyn had always told her it was unsanitary to bring bugs in the apartment, too, so she had dropped the habit within a year.

Annette released Trace’s waist before backing away. She was smiling. Trace opened the door wider, and said to us, “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.”

Annette eagerly moved past me, and into the house. I walked in slowly, and then closed the front door. Trace had her arms at each side, smiling brightly at me. I hadn’t hesitated to hug her tightly. “I missed you so much, Trace,” I whispered.

“I missed you, too, Willow,” she whispered in response.

We walked towards the living room together as I heard a female voice I hadn’t recognized coming from the second floor. “Who’s here?”

“Willow and her daughter, Annette. I told you they were coming,” Trace responded to the voice, seemingly annoyed the person had spoken.

We paused in front of the organized couches as Annette plopped down in the leather recliner.

“Who’s that?” I asked Trace, my voice hushed.

Trace sighed. “I’ll get to that, I promise.”

My eyes widened. “Is she your…” I trailed off. I had no idea who the person could be and I wanted Trace to just tell me who the woman was right then.

Trace sighed again, but louder this second time.

“Annette, why don’t you watch TV in here while your mother and I talk in the kitchen?” Trace asked Annette, but Annette hadn’t cared about what we had to talk about.

“Okay,” Annette nodded. She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels as Trace and I then walked towards the circular dining table. There were no walls separating the kitchen from the living room, so we were able to see Annette from where we were at.

Trace had taken the seat in front of me, and we paused with our hands clasped over the table.

“That was Tamara, my girlfriend,” she admitted immediately. Her face hadn’t expressed fear of judgment, but more of confidence, and I had respected that.

“Oh…” I paused. “How long have you been together?” I asked curiously.

I never suspected Trace to be interested in women. She might have preferred to be with a woman all this time I’d known her, though. I had never seen her with a man.

She sighed. “We had a secret relationship for seventeen years. It started off long distance. She moved here nine years ago from Oregon, but we have only been publicly together for two years. I’ve been in love with her since I was in high school.”

That had been a lot for me to take in all at once. Trace hid this for so long, and I couldn’t help but wonder how or why, because Trace was usually the one person that cared less about irrelevant opinions.

“Can I ask why you kept it a secret for so long?” I asked slowly.

“That would be fair,” she exhaled. “It’s not a reasonable excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. I didn’t accept my sexuality up until two years ago, Willow. I didn’t want Kennedy or you or your parents to know that I am a lesbian. I didn’t want anyone to know or to find out. I would always think about my parents, and how they’re traditional people. I’d tell myself I wasn’t ready for my loved ones to push me away for being who I am, but it was all just
me
pushing away myself. If that makes even the slightest bit of sense,” she went on.

I grabbed both of her hands, and I squeezed them. “I love you no matter what. We’re human, Trace. We don’t choose who to love. We just love whenever our heart tells us to,” I said, and she smiled at that.

“We just love whenever our heart tells us to…that’s the truest statement,” she agreed.

“I’m learning to live by it,” I responded.

She scrunched her eyebrows, suddenly.

“There’s something else I need to say,” she announced, her voice hushed. “Kennedy doesn’t have a father. I gave birth to him, but I was impregnated by a donor’s sperm. I have never had sex with a man in my life.”

I exhaled, deeply. “Did you ever tell Kennedy any of this?”

She nodded. “Yes. It was soon before he passed away. I knew I had to tell him eventually.”

“That’s good that you told him.”

“It was important for him to know,” she shrugged.

“Well, since it’s ‘
reveal your secrets’
day…” I trailed off. “There’s a particular secret I need to reveal to you.”

“And what would that be?” she followed.

I tried not to pause before answering. “Annette is one-hundred-percent your granddaughter.”

She nodded, simply. “I kind of figured. You would have done away with me a long time ago if she wasn’t.”

“Ugh,” I released her hands, grinning. “Everything about you reminds me of him.”

She smiled warmly in return. “He would have made such a great father, despite my feminine teachings. I’m surprised he didn’t turn out to be a softy.”

I laughed lightly. “I miss him every day.”

“I tell you, Willow,” she sighed longingly. “Everyone that knew him misses him every day.”

I agreed with her by nodding, because it was definitely true.

“Willow, this might be none of my business, but have you found someone yet?” she asked cautiously, yet curiously.

“
Um
, kind of,” I said, my words fumbling.

She giggled. “You did. You found someone. I know you did. What’s the guy’s name?” she asked intrusively. She held her chin with her hands as she rested her elbows on the table.

“How do you know it’s a guy?” I questioned teasingly.

“You’ve hated girls ever since you were little,” she insisted.

She had a valid point.

“I don’t know if he’s someone, but I hope he is,” I admitted stubbornly. “His name is Wyatt Blanquette. He was one of my patients at the hospital. He’s also Annette’s third-grade teacher.”

“Whoa, the chances,” she said in awe.

“Exactly,” I nodded. “I don’t think you’ll find any more details interesting, so I’ll stop talking now.”

“Hey, hold on!” she had given me a look. “Do you love him, or not?”

“That hasn’t been determined yet,” I groaned.

“How long have you been seeing him?” she asked.

“I have no details, Trace. We’ve been on zero dates. We haven’t even had sex yet.”

“Who knew sex came before love, dates, or otherwise,” she laughed. “So you’re smitten with him? Is that all?” she continued digging.

“Trace, I’m not quite in love with him now, but I know I will love him
hard
eventually. It might not take much more time at all. Love could take its placement the day I return to Illinois. He could spontaneously show up in Nolensville, and command love to take its placement
here
. Does that answer your question?” I breathed.

“Calm down before you knock the wind out of yourself,” she crooked a smile. “I assume you’re still working on facing your feelings. You’re still young. In time, Willow, you’ll be comfortable. Just hope he’s running at the same level as you, or else you might experience trouble along the way. Tamara resented me for a while because I wasn’t willing to hold her hand or kiss her in public. I think what you’re experiencing with this Wyatt character falls across the same line. Just be careful.”

“Of course, Trace. Thank you.”

“Just come and see me when you figure it out, okay? I have something to give you, but I can’t give it to you until you fall in love. Whoever the person may be,” Trace finally said.

I nodded before I said, “Noted.”

We retreated to the living room, and Trace had soon called Tamara to join us. She was beautiful and blonde, and a lot more social than Trace was with strangers. Her green eyes were kind. I decided I liked her. We ate lunch and dinner together, and we played a few games. It was refreshing.

4:53p.m.

Annette and I
were leaving Trace’s house, now. I asked her to get on her bike, and follow me to the abandoned home in the woods. I just wanted to finally show her where I used to be. I had spent a lot of my time there, and with the first man I loved who was also her father. My and Kennedy’s home was rotted to the point where it wouldn’t be safe to enter, but it was still standing. It was still beautiful and it was still my favorite place. I told her it was. I told her that her daddy used to meet me here every day. She had said that she wanted to know what her daddy looked like. And so, she followed me back to my childhood home. We walked into the kitchen, hand in hand, and I pointed at a picture on the fridge. It was my and Kennedy’s prom picture. She took the picture in her hands, curious – her eyes huge. “That’s you and daddy?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, sweetie. Me and daddy,” I exhaled, my hand placed on her shoulder.