Seize the Day (26 page)

“Dying is overrated.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I have terminal cancer.”

I didn't mean to say, but I was glad that I did. I wanted to somehow touch him, to inspire him to change his life.

“I have a few months to live. Some kind of rare, complicated cancer in the stomach. My days are numbered. But I know there is a lot to live for.

“I'm not going to preach to you. But you've got to understand that life is a blessing. You have an illness, but it's treatable. Listen, before I learned my situation, I lived an ordinary life. Since then, I changed my attitude, and life has been so interesting and exciting for me. There's a message in this: Live your life. Seize the day. There is something wrong with someone who is dying wanting to live more than someone who is not dying. I know you're hurt by what happened to the boy in that accident. But it was an accident. You've got to live, man. Live.”

“What's your name?”

“Calvin. Calvin Jones.”

“I'm Todd. Todd Jones.”

“See, we could be related.” He laughed.

And then I did something I never thought I would do with a homeless person: I extended my hand to shake his.

He looked down at it, confused. “I haven't shaken someone's hand in more than four years. And I won't shake yours. Not because I don't want to, but because my hands are far from clean. But the gesture means the world to me. You're one of the few people who has actually talked to me and shared with me. Most people…well, you know how people are.”

“I can't blame anyone for how they act. People see the homeless and are saddened and also afraid. My whole world has opened up in the last few months. I see the world differently than most now.”

“I bet you do. I wish you the best, Calvin. See, I remembered your name… Thank you for the conversation. Haven't had a real conversation with a sane person in a long time. A long time.”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Help me what?”

“Get some food. Get off the street. Get some meds.”

“Now you want to save the world?”

“Just you.”

Todd just looked at me. “Why?”

“Why not? You have every opportunity to live a good life. You just need to take your meds, get some counseling and get to work. Todd, it's too much out here—too many programs and job counseling centers and
women
. Don't you enjoy women?”

“Used to.”

“Well, you're forty-five. There are plenty out there waiting for you to find them. Use that as a motivation. Man, you deserve to be enjoying life. I ain't the most religious person, but God spared you. You're still here. Don't insult Him by
choosing
to not live.”

I went into my wallet. I had a business card and handed it to him. “Todd, my cell phone number is on here.”

I went into my front left pocket. I pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills. I peeled off ten. “This is a thousand dollars, Todd.”

“What are you doing?” he said with panic in his voice. “You can't pull that kinda money out in public. People always looking.”

“Here, take it. No one is looking now. This is enough for you to get a nice hotel room, buy some clothes and some personal hygiene stuff and get a haircut. After you do that, go somewhere nice to eat. Sit and order yourself a great meal and enjoy it. Then, you call me and I will get you a cell phone and take you to a counselor, get you some meds and see where we can go from there.”

Todd held so tightly to that money, looking down at it in his hand. When he raised his head to look at me, tears were in his eyes. “I don't know who you are or why you would do this, but thank you.”

He looked down at Moses. “You're a lucky dog. If he's doing this for me, I'm sure he treats you good.”

“This is my buddy right here. I have my boys at home: Bradford, Vernon, Lawrence, Joe, Big Will. But Moses is my dog, as they say.”

We laughed and Moses wagged his tail.

“Do we have a deal?”

Todd looked at me, eyes still watery. He nodded his head.

“OK, I will look to hear from you in the next day or so. You're going to do right, right?”

“Carpe diem,”
he said, as he walked away.

I
slept so hard that it took Moses' barking to wake me up at almost eleven. He had eaten the food I set out for him before we went to sleep. He was ready for a walk.

It was a beautiful morning, on its way to almost ninety degrees. There were beautiful white clouds scattered in the sky. It made me regret that I was dying.

“You're looking so much better than when I found you, Moses. Some good rest and food have done you good.”

I felt invigorated by that. When I first saw the puppy he was somewhat battered and meek. In quiet moments, I wondered where he came from, whether he was sent to me by God. Until that moment, I had no idea that I needed a constant companion. But having Moses was uplifting because my attention was mostly on him and not what I was facing.

I checked my e-mails when Moses and I returned from our walk and found one from my holistic physician, prepping me for my first treatment. Much of what she sent was a review of what coffee enemas do in helping alleviate toxins from the body.

I was not comfortable with the idea of something rammed up my butt, but I could not take another episode with my stomach in so much pain. If nothing else, if the enemas could alleviate that, or minimize that, it would make my remaining days much easier to deal with.

My daughter was not so sure, though. She had done her research, too, and found Dr. Ali. But there was dissenting opinion about coffee enemas. Maya finally came around to agree that if chemotherapy was not going to get rid of the cancer, why take my body through all that shock and torture?

“Daddy,” she had said tearfully, “this is hard to say, but the reality is that at some point, the holistic treatments are not going to be of help. What then?”

I didn't have an answer. As much as I believed I came to grips with my situation, it remained hard to believe I was going to die. I comprehended all of what the many doctors told me. I embraced what Pastor Henson shared. But I could not conceive of dying.

“We have to deal with that when it comes, baby,” I finally said to her. “We'll deal with it then.”

I was excited she was coming that evening. It was funny: Being around Maya cheered me up because she was my blood, my offspring, my baby. But it made me sad, too, because I worried about how she would deal with my death.

Before I could get upset, my cell phone rang. I had spoken to my father briefly on the ride to Atlanta and forgot to call him to let him know we had arrived safely. I expected it to be him. Instead, it was Venus. My heart started pounding.

“This is a surprise.”

“And hello to you, too, Calvin.” I could feel her wide, toothy smile.

“Good afternoon; I'm sorry. This is still a surprise.”

“Why? I told you I was going to call you today. What are you doing?”

“Hanging in today. Resting. My daughter is coming this evening. Gonna pick her up, but that's about it.”

“Well, get ready then.”

“Ready for what?”

“I'm going to pick you up. Let's go to Sunday brunch. I have the perfect place.”

I really wanted to just relax with Moses all day. My stomach did not feel its best, which worried me. Usually after an episode, the next day I felt totally fine. Not this time.

“OK. You know where the Residence Inn on Piedmont is, in Buckhead?”

“On my way. Can be there in about forty minutes.”

“All right. Room 1906.”

I showered, which made me feel better, got dressed in some Levi's, Kenneth Cole loafers and a plaid shirt. I shaved my head and sat on the couch with Moses until she arrived.

Moses rested across my lap as I gently stroked his back. “You may not want to hear this, but we're going to find a vet this week you get you checked out make sure you have all your shots.”

That dog looked up at me as if he understood. It was amazing.

“If you can understand me, you should know it's going to be all right. I'm going to make sure of that. And if you can understand me, you know I'm sick. But I'm going to make sure you're taken care of. I promise you that, man.”

I searched on my iPad for veterinarians and dog parks and found some prospects. Before I could click on them, Venus called. She was outside my door.

I rubbed Moses. “OK, buddy, I've got to run for a few hours. Your food is there and water. I have the TV on for you. You're going to be all right. Right? Oh, I'm leaving the ‘Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, so housekeeping shouldn't bother you. OK?”

He just looked at me and wagged his tail.

I washed my hands and sprayed on some cologne and backed out of the door. “Be good, Moses. Be good.”

I shut the door and turned around to a surprise: Venus was on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. It was beautiful: black and gold, shiny and powerful. I stopped in my tracks, partly because I didn't expect that and partly because seeing her straddling that bike was sexy as hell.

“Been on one of these before?”

“In my dreams.”

“Then this will really be fun for you.”

She handed me a helmet and I acted as if I was not scared when inside I was nervous. But Venus calmed me when she told me to firmly take hold of her waist. “Just hold on tight. Don't try to shift your weight from side to side. Just move with the bike.”

She revved up that machine and weaved through the parking lot with ease and grace. When she turned right onto Piedmont, it was open road in front of us, and she guided the Harley down the major street as the breeze wrapped around our bodies. It was exhilarating.

I could see over her shoulder that the bike was just like a luxury vehicle with the latest technology. It was an elegant motorcycle.

Before long, I felt like we were floating along. The Atlanta skyline was beautiful, and she pointed to sights as we rode through Midtown and alongside Piedmont Park. At a light, she turned around and said: “You OK? We're going to Murphy's. It's about three minutes away. One of the best places for brunch in Atlanta.”

I gave her the thumbs-up. I wasn't that hungry, but I was going to enjoy the experience. I smiled to myself at that thought. I had been a person who was inflexible: If I wasn't hungry, I wouldn't go out to eat. Now I understood the value of an experience.

We arrived at Murphy's in the Virginia-Highland area of Atlanta. It was a lively section of town, with people walking to and from the shops and restaurants.

I felt a little lightheaded getting off the bike. I wasn't sure if it was the ride or my being sick. Anything that was off kilter concerned me. But it didn't last long.

We waited at the bar for a table. “You didn't tell me you rode a motorcycle.”

“You didn't ask me.”

We laughed and toasted with my water and her mimosa.

“It's hot, but it's a beautiful day to be out on the bike,” she said. “I've been riding for ten years. This guy I dated actually got me into it. My passion for riding lasted—he didn't.”

“I hear you.” My cell phone rang. I looked at it and it was Kathy. I wanted to answer so badly, but I thought I shouldn't. Then I quickly got a grip. “Excuse me one minute, Venus.”

“Hey there.”

“How are you doing today? Are you busy?”

“I'm good, I think”—I was not comfortable answering that, knowing my situation. “I'm about to have something to eat. You OK? Can I call you later?”

“Oh, yes, sure. I'm good. I was just checking on you. I've been looking at that check you wrote me. But we can talk about it later. Just call me.”

“Was that your girlfriend?” Venus asked.

“That's hard to say. She's definitely my friend. We used to date a long time ago. Now she's going through a divorce.”

“You still like her. I can tell. I could see it in how you smiled as you talked to her.”

“I wasn't aware I was smiling.”

“That's because it was so natural. She makes you smile when you're not even trying.”

“What's your deal? Why are you taking me to brunch and your boyfriend isn't taking you?”

Before she could answer, we were directed to a table on the covered outside area. It felt like a new life, an unfamiliar life to be sitting outside at brunch in a different city with a beautiful woman perched across from me. I had created this box I was comfortable with at home, but it seemed so mundane and boring.

“I met someone who has potential. I like him. He's a college administrator at Spelman. He's smart and funny. But it's early. The real him has not shown up yet.”

“That's pretty cynical.”

“I've dated for a long time in Atlanta. Trust me, it's more realistic than cynical.”