Mirror, The (35 page)

Steve reached across the table and grabbed her hands.

"I know I can be difficult at times – and possessive and defensive and hot-headed – but it's only because I don't want to lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Ginny."

Steve tightened his grip on her hands.

"I love you."

CHAPTER 60: KATIE

Saturday, August 1, 1964

Katie stared out her passenger-side window and let her mind drift as the Impala rolled through the neon-filled streets of Seattle. There was something particularly useful, she thought, about this endless blur of lights. It was mesmerizing and distracting. It was just the kind of thing she needed to forget about a speech she didn't want to give.

She turned to her left to face the driver and saw a young man who apparently had his own problems to ponder. Mike had been conspicuously quiet all evening, speaking only when prompted and only about the most general of topics. He had not wanted to talk on the drive to dinner or at the theater and definitely not on the drive back. Something clearly was wrong.

Katie had hoped for better circumstances, but she knew there was no good way or time to tell a boy you loved that you had to end a relationship and then leave his life forever. Delivering bad news was never easy. Delivering it to Mike Hayes on a night like this would be excruciating.

"Are you OK, Mike?" Katie asked as they entered the university district, "You haven't said much all night."

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a little tired."

Katie knew that much was true. Mike had worked double shifts the past four days to help cover for two courtesy clerks taking vacation leave. He had nodded off at least once at dinner and twice in the theater. The sadness in his eyes, however, suggested that there was more behind his quiet demeanor than simple fatigue.

Katie thought again about her mission as Mike turned onto Dalton Avenue and began the final mile to the duplex. Though she was disappointed she hadn't been able to join Ginny and the Jorgensons on their camping trip to Lake Chelan, she was glad she had the apartment to herself. She would need some quiet time, perhaps a lot, to tell Mike all the things he needed to know.

Part of her, of course, wanted to procrastinate a little longer. There was nothing quite as satisfying as putting off an unpleasant task indefinitely. But she knew that to put this off much longer would simply make matters worse. If Ginny was able pull back from Steve, she could certainly do so with Mike. Or at least she hoped she could.

Three minutes later Mike pulled into the duplex driveway, put the Impala in park, and turned off the ignition. He stared through the windshield for about a minute before turning to Katie.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked.

Katie grabbed his hand.

"Yes, I had a good time. I always have a good time with you."

"I hope you mean it. I know I haven't been great company."

"I do mean it," Katie said. "I'm a little concerned that you've been so quiet, but that hasn't ruined my evening. I enjoyed dinner and the movie, I enjoyed the drive, and I'm hoping I can enjoy some more of your company tonight."

"You want to talk?"

Katie nodded.

"There are things I have to tell you, things that can't wait," she said. "Let's not talk about them here though. Let's go inside."

"OK."

Katie stepped out of the car and into the cool summer night and walked a few steps to Unit A. When Mike joined her on the front step, she turned the key, opened the door, and let him in.

"Let's sit on the sofa," she said. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"No."

Katie watched Mike drape his windbreaker over the top of Ginny's chair, wander over to the couch, and sit down. She considered turning on the overhead light and putting on some music but ultimately decided against both.

She'd had her fill of light and distraction on the ride back. All she wanted now was the serenity that came with sitting in a dark, quiet living room. She sat next to Mike.

"It's quiet here without Ginny," Katie said.

Mike laughed.

"It's quiet everywhere without Ginny."

"Now, now, don't pick on my sister."

"I'm not," Mike said. "Believe it or not, I like her."

"I know you do."

Katie grabbed Mike's hand, the one wrapped around her shoulder, and then burrowed into his side. For the next five minutes she enjoyed the blissful silence, forgot about her unpleasant task, and succumbed to happy thoughts.

"This reminds me of the night of the party. It's dark. It's quiet. We're together on the couch," Katie said. "The only difference is that we're vertical."

Mike laughed again.

"You're not going to quit, are you?"

"I might when I see a smile, but not before."

"How's this?"

Mike smiled sadly.

"That's better. It's not perfect, but it's better," she said. "I like to see you smile."

Katie closed her eyes, hugged Mike tightly, and let her mind drift again. She tried to think of pleasant things – and only pleasant things – but didn't succeed. She thought about what she had to say and questioned why she had to say it at all. She silently cursed the forces that had conspired to ruin this perfect moment and take away the love of a lifetime.

Mike broke the silence ten minutes later.

"You said you had something to tell me?"

"I did."

Katie took a breath, sat up straight, and looked at Mike. She could see curiosity in his eyes, but not alarm. She considered that a good thing, though at this point it really didn't matter. The alarm would come soon enough.

"Well, go ahead and say what you have to say," Mike said.

Katie grabbed Mike's hand, pulled it from her shoulder, and kissed it before dropping it to her lap. She knew the gesture wouldn't mean a thing in the long run, but she wanted to give him one last reminder that she really did love him.

"Remember that day when we sat at the picnic table by Greer's and I told you that Ginny and I might move back to California?"

"I remember."

Katie paused for a few seconds as a wave of nausea swept through her. When it passed, she took another breath, and squeezed his hand.

"Well, I think we're going to do it. We're going to go home."

"You mean move back for good?"

Katie nodded.

"We're planning to leave sometime in the second week of September."

"So what you're really saying is that, after you leave, I won't see you again."

She nodded again.

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Katie grabbed his hand and rubbed it against her cheek. It was something she did for herself. She figured that even if Mike pulled back his hand and walked out of the house, she would at least have something to savor. She was mildly surprised when he let her keep the hand.

She was not surprised to see a tear roll down his cheek and even less surprised to see several more follow. She had broken his heart. There were no words or gestures that could fix that.

"I'm sorry, Mike. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I couldn't. I just couldn't."

Mike forced a smile, kissed Katie on the head, and got up from the sofa.

"I should go," he said.

Mike walked to Ginny's chair, retrieved his windbreaker, and started to leave. He got as far as the door before Katie stopped him. She grabbed his hands.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night," Katie said. "I don't want it to be this way."

Mike brushed away a tear and forced another sad smile.

"Don't worry. That's not even the worst news I've had today."

Katie cocked her head and zeroed in on his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Mike sighed.

"My mom heard from her doctor this morning."

"What did he say?" Katie asked.

"He said her cancer's back. It's back big. It's spread all through her body."

Katie saw fear replace the calm in his eyes. Mike Hayes was no longer the tough survivor who had been there and done that. He looked lost, helpless, and alone.

"What does that mean?" Katie asked with a frantic edge in her voice.

"It means she has three months to live."

Katie rushed forward and wrapped him in her arms.

"Oh, Mike. I'm so sorry."

Katie tried to still his trembling body but quickly gave up. The pain he had hidden all day was simply too much to contain. When she looked up, she saw a tormented face awash in tears.

"I don't know what to do, Katie. I don't know what to do," Mike said.

Katie wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She couldn't think straight, stand straight, or even see straight. Her own trigger-happy eyes, which had resisted tears all evening, had finally turned to mush.

So for several minutes she did nothing but hold him. She pulled him in and tried to absorb as much of his anguish as she possibly could. She could literally feel the pain of a young man who had known little else in nineteen years and who had certainly done nothing to deserve it.

Katie shifted quickly from hugs to kisses. She gave Mike the kind of affection she had kept in reserve for far too long. She gave him the comfort he had needed for hours and would surely need for weeks to come. When she was done, she gave him a soft smile and a softer gaze.

Then Katie Smith – sensible, careful Katie Smith – did something uncharacteristically impulsive and reckless, something that now seemed as natural and inevitable as a first kiss. She brushed away Mike's tears, grabbed his hand, and led him toward a bedroom he had never seen.

She did so not only because if felt right but also because she was tired of playing by rules she hadn't set and abiding by conventions she hadn't created. She did so because, for once in her life, she wanted to follow her heart and not her head.

When they got to the door of the bedroom, Katie stopped, turned to face Mike, and threw her arms over his shoulders. She sighed and kissed him lightly on the lips, a gesture that seemed to snap him out of a daze. He looked at her with clear eyes and shook his head.

"I can't do this, Katie."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to add guilt to my misery," Mike said.

"You won't."

Mike gazed at her and nodded.

"Yeah, I will. If I go in there now, I'll feel rotten tomorrow. I love you, Katie. I love you more than anything, but I can't do this. You didn't ask me inside to bring me here. You asked me inside to break up. Don't do this now because my mom is dying. I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you!" Katie snapped. "I
love
you."

Mike winced and again shook his head. He slowly pulled Katie's arms from his shoulders and let them fall to her side. He grabbed her hands, squeezed them tightly, and then kissed her on the forehead.

"It's getting late. I should check on my mom. I have to go."

Mike kissed her again – on the lips – and released her hands. He gave her one final look, turned around, and then started down the dark hallway toward the living room and the door.

"Don't you leave me, Michael Hayes!"

Katie watched Mike stop, pause for a second, and turn around. When she had his attention, she walked up to him, reclaimed his hands, and stared at him with eyes that slowly changed from angry to fearful to pleading.

"If you decide to walk out that door later tonight, I won't stop you. I won't even try," Katie said in a softer voice. "Just don't leave now."

Katie took a moment to wipe her eyes, which in minutes had become functionally useless. The tears that had once ebbed and flowed now just flowed.

"I'm not asking you to forget your mom. I'm not asking you to forget what I said. I'm just asking you to stay a little longer."

Katie took a deep breath and returned her arms to his shoulders.

"This is not about you," she said. "It's about making things right. It's about showing you at least once how much I love you."

She kissed him again tenderly and meaningfully.

"This is for me."

CHAPTER 61: GINNY

Thursday, August 6, 1964

Ginny adjusted the umbrella over her head and then glanced at her sister, who sat at the other end of a picnic table in Virginia's sunny backyard. She wasn't sure what to make of Katie's blank expression – and that bothered her. Katie had worn the expression all week.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened last weekend?"

"I already have. I did what you wanted me to do," Katie said. "I told Mike that we were leaving next month and that we should cool things down in the meantime."

"I know you, Katie. You're holding something back."

Katie pulled the business section from Thursday's edition of the
Seattle Sun
and started pouring through it. She did not take her eyes off the paper.

"So what if I am? We're leaving soon. That's all that matters."

Seeing that she wasn't going to get a more substantive reply, Ginny huffed a few times and returned to the comics, where Blondie and Lucy badgered Dagwood and Schroeder, respectively, with questions about baby showers, music, and love. She found that even insensitive males in the funny pages were more receptive to queries than the twin at her table.

When she was done deriving laughs from one section of the paper, she tried to derive news from another and got more than she asked for in stories about Vietnam, civil rights workers, and a local businessman. Deciding to save the depressing but important articles for later, she marked each with an "X" and returned to her root beer.

"How did
your
weekend go?" Katie asked.

"Oh, now you want to talk to me."

"No. I just want to know how your camping trip went."

Ginny stared at the one person in the world who could push all her buttons at once and frowned. She hated it when Katie got this way. Katie had a moral obligation to share her thoughts, not to lock them up like valuables in a safe deposit box.

"It's not really any of your business, but I had a nice time. Cindy and I talked about boys, Nana and I talked about Cindy, and Joe helped me catch a fish," Ginny said. "I wish you could have joined us."