Sunshiner

When we were done in the “hot spring” we clambered out, shivering cold and blue-lipped, but we didn’t bother getting dressed again. Instead Candace gave me a certain smile that I had never seen before and then she grabbed my hand and led me back to the car. Along the way we grabbed our clothes and carried them in a bundle, scurrying across the dusty grass while laughing like retarded people and hoping to God that no one would happen to drive by and see us.

The interior of the car had heated up drastically because we left it sitting in the sun with the windows closed, but it provided a nice sauna-like environment that helped cease our shivering. Then again, however, I was pretty sure we would have heated up the car enough without the help of the sun.

We both stumbled into the back seat ungracefully, and I managed to close the door without even disconnecting my lips from hers. I couldn’t even remember when we began making out, but we did, and now we were both too caught up in the moment to stop. Our clothes were a forgotten mess of fabric lying on the floor of the car.

Our breathing got heavier and I paid special attention to every gasp she took to know whether she liked what I was doing or not. Other than that, though, we were deadly silent. I don’t think I said a single word, except I think I once mumbled her name into her neck, though I can’t really remember. But we didn’t need any words. Even though this was the first time this had occurred with us, talking just wasn’t our thing. Instead we let it just happen.

And holy shit, did it happen.



We still didn’t talk after we were done. She just lay on my chest and I stroked her hair silently. Although we had summoned the energy to tug our clothes back on, it seemed as though we were still too tired to move or keep driving, and so we lay there in a harmonious silence. We listened to the music of our breathing and our hearts beating in sync and that was enough for us.

“Kasey,” she whispered and kissed a ticklish spot on the side of my torso. I used to find it so funny how after sex you could kiss someone in the most random spots and still feel perfectly comfortable. I didn’t find it as funny anymore – actually, I found it really intimate. I felt the sudden urge to kiss Candace in every spot of her body; I wanted to feel every inch of her under my lips.

“Hmm,” I mumbled my reply while strumming my fingers over her belly button.

“I need to tell you something.”

I opened one eye to see her giving me a very serious stare. In the light of the midday sun, I almost wanted to forget all of our problems and just stay in this moment and pretend that everything in this world was perfect. The way the sun bounced off her freckles and made her eyelashes glitter was too fantastic of a sight to ever forget.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “I think you do have something to tell me.” I couldn’t pretend I was living in a fairytale.

She rolled over onto her back, positioning her head so that it was resting on the muscle of my shoulder. I wrapped both of my arms around her waist and buried my face in her hair. A long silence ensued, and this time the quietness wasn’t comfortable or romantic. It was scary. I was waiting for her to find her words, and as much as I was curious, I was also dreading it.

“Did you know…” she began slowly, as if starting a bedtime tale, “that the risk of lung cancer for non-smokers is one out of seventy-seven people?”

My heart was pounding. “No,” I said in an unnaturally casual voice. I was trying very hard to stay calm. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well,” she continued, sounding very matter-of-fact. It was almost as if she was telling me an insignificant statistic and not…and not the essence of her life story. “One out of ten of the people get lung cancer from secondhand smoke. Put those two statistics together and well…I’m one in a million, aren’t I?” I could hear the smile in her voice but I could tell it was a bitter one.

I remained silent. I couldn’t think of anything to say. And even if I did, I don’t think I would have been able to form any words.

“Three years ago, I began coughing,” she went on, hardly pausing for me to react. Now that she had momentum she couldn’t stop, otherwise she would probably become too scared to finish what she had to say. “We thought it was asthma. So did the doctors. Then I started coughing up blood, and, well, it didn’t take them too long to figure out what I had.

“It turns out that all of those years of my parents smoking – with me around, which was kind of a stupid decision on their part – had played a toll on my lungs. My mom and dad are totally fine, and the doctors were confused at first, since they thought that if my parents both had good lung genes, then I should too. I went to doctor after doctor after doctor, and they all told me the same thing – that I was sick. Well thank you, dumbass, I already figured that one out. I see those years of med school brightened you up a bit.”

She chuckled lightly. “Well, as it turns out, being exposed to cigarette smoke is a lot more damaging to a child than it is to an adult, since my lungs were still developing. By the time I had gone to the doctors and they had diagnosed my illness, I had already been sick for a few years. It was too late for them to do anything. ‘I’m so sorry,’ they’d always tell me. Yeah, okay, whatever you say. I knew they didn’t care at all. I was just another statistic, right?”

My grip on her tightened and I breathed in the scent of her hair. It smelled of sweat and strawberry shampoo. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and focused on the scent, as if I was trying to remind myself again and again that she was still here. She was in my arms, right now, and she wasn’t going anywhere. No matter what she told me I was not going to let go.

“I had gone to the doctors alone a lot of the time because I wanted to be the first one – and the only one – to know. I didn’t want to tell anyone else; I didn’t want any pity. But my parents already knew that something was wrong, and the hospital bills were mailed to them, so it was inevitable that they discovered my little problem. Other than them, you’re the only other one who’ve I’ve ever told.” I hoped she didn’t expect me to feel flattered, because I wasn’t.

“Mom and Dad quit smoking as soon as they found out, but of course it was way too late to do any help,” she laughed icily. “And it isn’t fair at all, because they’re perfectly fine. They smoked like fucking chimneys all these years and I’m the one being punished for it.” Her voice had suddenly gained an edge to it, but she sighed, suppressing any anger that may have bubbled up inside of her. “I, on the other hand, began smoking right away. If these things were going to kill me, then I might as well know what they taste like, right?”

“How could you – ” I choked out, but my words were cut off as my throat tightened up. My chest heaved and I had to try very hard not to cry. I almost felt like I was in pain, like I had been stabbed in the eyes or something just as gruesome. “How did you not hate your parents after that?” I asked instead. I had so many other questions that were burning to be asked, but I decided to start out with a simple inquiry.

“Oh, I did,” she said simply. “I was furious at them, actually. I stopped talking to them and then, eventually, I stopped coming home. I would run away for a few days in a row and only return whenever I felt like it or whenever I ran out of money and got hungry. This lasted for a few months. But after a while I got tired of living in self-pity and I went on with my normal life. I didn’t want any stupid cancer to stop me from being normal. Fuck that.”

I almost wanted to laugh. How typical of Candace. She was too stubborn and proud to give up her original lifestyle, and even something as momentous as this could not bring her down.

“I went to school, did my homework – sometimes – and ate dinner with my mom and dad every single night,” she went on. “I was always silent at home, though, since I still refused to speak to them. That was their punishment. They knew that they were losing their daughter, and they were absolutely miserable because they blamed themselves; but I was sure to make them suffer even more. By pretending that my parents didn’t exist and ignoring them altogether, I made it seem like I had already been lost.

“And then one day I woke up and the sun was filtering through my window and it was beautiful. The sunrise made the dust sparkle and I thought, Hell, if the sun can make the fuckingdirt glitter like that, then it can make me shine even brighter. I decided that I wanted to go out and live my life and never waste a single ray of sunshine for the rest of my life, no matter how long or how short it was going to be. And just like that, I was over it.

“I spoke to my parents again. I accepted the fact that I was sick and I didn’t know what fate had in store for me. I continued to do well in school as if I was going to college and as if I actually had a future. I still didn’t do my homework, but whatever, it’s not like I ever did it before.

“I know that living such a mundane life sounds stupid. People who find out they’re dying go out and bungee jump or go sky diving or swim with sharks. But I don’t need crazy shit like that to feel like I’ve gone out and fulfilled my life. Because honestly, sky diving lasts a few minutes – if that’s what you’ve lived your entire life for, well, you’ve had a pathetic life. All I needed was to be surrounded by the people who I love and to be happy. That’s what life is really about.”

I hadn’t realized I was crying until I felt my jaw trembling and tears streaming down my cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, to say anything, but instead what came out was a throat-tearing, rib-cracking sob. She quickly flipped over on her stomach again, facing me, and cradled my face in her tiny hands. “Shh, Kase, shh,” she whispered, even though it felt wrong since she should have been the one who needed comforting. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not,” I said through clenched teeth, my voice sounding thick and shaky. “How can you say it will be okay? You’re lying, Candace. Everything’s fucking ruined, it’s…it’s not even…”

“Shh,” she said again and pressed her lips down on mine, even though I didn’t return the kiss.

“How can you be so indifferent?” I growled. I felt so torn; a part of me was miserable and heart-broken, and another part of me was angry. I couldn’t even figure out why I was mad, either; it was completely irrational. Maybe I was angry because she hadn’t told me sooner and had made me fall head over heels for her, only to find out that we had no future together. Maybe I was angry because she should be crying just as hard as I was, and yet she was totally dry-eyed.

She shrugged. “I guess I’ve accepted it already,” she sighed forlornly.

“But how could you – ”

“I’m not going to live like I’m dying, Kasey,” she explained. “I’m just going to live. I don’t care if it’s not an honest way of living. It’s what makes me happy, and I thought you could understand.”

I wish I could understand, I thought, but in reality I knew that I really didn’t want to. I didn’t wish to know what it was like to be sentenced to the grave.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I whispered hoarsely.

“I…” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I thought if you knew, then you wouldn’t love me.”

I didn’t know if she wanted me to kiss her and say that I would love her no matter what. Because I didn’t do that. I couldn’t. My emotions were such a wreck that it was impossible for me to be gentle or romantic whatsoever. I think she knew that I felt that way anyway, without me needing to say it – at least, I hoped she knew that. I did love her.

And I hated her for that, too. I hated that she kept the truth from me just because she wanted me to like her. I hated that now I was so helplessly in love with her and I felt like dying with her. I hated that she lied and I hated that she broke my heart.

Instead, I gently pushed her off of me and without saying a single word I opened the car door and stepped outside. I tangled my hands in my hair and lifted my head towards the sky and then – and then I let out the loudest, longest scream I had ever uttered in my entire life. I don’t know what emotions could be heard in my voice, nor did I attempt to comprehend them. I felt a little bit of everything terrible, I guess. When I ran out of breath and my voice died to a gruff whisper, I silently went back to the car and sat in the driver’s seat. Candace had already crawled into the passenger’s side. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

“How much longer do you have?” I finally asked.

“I went to the doctors a few weeks ago, and they said the results weren’t too good, and then I told them I didn’t want to hear what they had to tell me…” she rambled, and I knew she was trying to avoid the question.

“How much longer do you have?” I repeated.

She looked at me with fearful eyes. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

I didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hold her close to me or yell at her for choosing to be so ignorant. Instead I remained silent and then turned on the ignition. The car roared to life.

I didn’t want to keep driving on this highway. I didn’t want to move forward anymore. Where would we go, anyway? No matter how far we ran away from home, we could never run away from the truth. Before this, our lack of a destination was fun. It made everything spontaneous. But now it felt so…pointless. When we had first “disappeared” together, it was a relief to leave Dayton. Sure, that little town had everything, but at the time I didn’t want everything. I wanted nothing. Now I just wanted to go back to a familiar place filled with familiar people. I wanted my old comforts back. Our adventure was over.

I hit the gas and made a giant U-turn and began to drive down the opposite highway. I knew we had been lost for quite some time, but I would somehow find a way back in the right direction. Right now, it felt good to have a purpose. I needed to be doing something to keep my mind off of things.

“Where are we going?” Candace asked after a few minutes.

“We’re going home.”