Firenze, 2064
THE CALL CAME AS A complete shock. While in Florence, my phone had only rung a few times, and each time it had been Pat. But Pat was busy in the kitchen only a few meters away.
"James." No additional word was needed for me to know who was calling. "This is Kate."
"Yes. I recognized your voice. Is everything okay? Are you in Houston?"
"I'm in Paris. I've been getting settled for the past two weeks."
"Getting settled. Have you decided to live in Paris?"
"Live. Quite the contrary. I've come here to die."
I was sure that I had heard incorrectly. "What did you say?"
"The cancer has returned. It's in my bones, particularly my spine. The more optimistic doctors hold out some hope. But I'm not deceived. The realistic ones give me a few months, maybe six, probably less."
"I can't believe what you're saying."
"I wouldn't joke about this."
"Are you in pain?"
"Yes. I have better days and poorer ones. Sometimes it's quite tolerable and sometimes it's not. But I have medication of various sorts. Anyway, I didn't want to spend my last days in Houston or Washington. I always wanted to return to Paris."
"I remember your saying so."
"James, I'm going to ask a very big favor of you."
"Name it," I replied, no doubt too quickly.
"I want you to stay with me in Paris. I'll pay all expenses, naturally. I want you to help me pass my last months or weeks, whatever, as agreeably as possible."
By this point, Pat had entered the living room and had begun to follow the conversation as best as she could, based on my comments.
"That is a big favor."
"Do you have a problem helping me out?"
"Yes and no. I certainly want to help. But Pat, the woman I'm staying with in Firenze, is not merely a friend. We love each other." Pat came up to me and kissed me on the cheek. I looked at her and saw the incredible expression of joy written on her face. "We only have another two weeks together before I'm scheduled to go back to the U.S."
"I'm truly happy for you. But you'll be able to spend the rest of your life with Pat; if that's the way you want it. I need your help now. You're not going to be my lover, only my companion and nurse. Hell, we never even had sex when we worked together and I was attractive."
"No, never." I adhered to the party line regarding our nights together.
"I need you to help me and to be my executor. This is a business arrangement, if you like. Even if you're not inclined to help me for altruistic reasons, I'll make it worth your while. I really need you."
There was a panic in Kate's voice that I had never heard before. I hesitated to give a definite reply because I genuinely did not know what to do. I desperately wanted to spend more time with Pat, maybe even extend my stay in Firenze. Yet I also knew that Kate was relying on me in her most desperate days.
Kate knew by the moments of silence that I was thinking hard, wrestling with a difficult decision. "James, if you ever had any feelings for me, you need to help me out now. I'm still in a position to help you, too. You want to build a good life for yourself and your friend, Pat. I'll help you with connections and some money, not a fortune, but some worthwhile money. I'll try not to be a burden. We'll get to explore Paris. I can still get around quite well. After a few weeks, you've probably gotten your fill of Florence . . ."
"I've just started to scratch the surface," I riposted a bit aggressively.
"You can go back to Florence. You have a long life ahead of you." The implication was clear—Kate did not have much time left and I could help her get as much as possible out of her remaining days. She continued, "I've rented a great apartment in a fantastic part of Paris, although all Paris is fantastic. It has two bedrooms and even two baths. You'll be very comfortable here."
"When would you want me to come?" When Pat heard my question, a look of anguish came over her face.
"As soon as possible."
"Let me call you back tomorrow."
"Make it later today." Kate still acted the boss.
After the phone call ended, I sat stupefied. Pat broke the silence. "You're going to go to her."
"How much of the conversation did you pick up?"
"She's in Paris. She's sick." Pat supplied.
"She's dying. Bone cancer. She probably only has a few months to live, and she needs my help."
"Doesn't she have a family?'
"I believe she has two nieces. And she's not particularly close to them."
"I can't believe you're her closest confidant. She's a very important person. She must know hundreds of important people."
"And I'm a nobody."
"That's not what I meant. Certainly there must be other people she can call on."
"For some reason she tends to rely on me."
"Maybe she loves you."
"I'm sure she doesn't. But she trusts me. She knows I don't divulge confidences. And I usually come through for her, not always, but most of the time."
"You're going to go to her." Her sentence was more a statement than a question.
"I suspect so."
"Why does she have to come between us at this point?"
"Do you think she wants to die?"
"You make me feel selfish. But I want you for myself. Were you serious when you told her you love me?"
"Yes, I was telling the truth."
"And I'm sure I love you." There was a tear in her eye. "I don't want to share you with another woman. We need to talk about where we go from here. But you're going to go off to Paris."
"Probably, but even though she'd like me there immediately, I'll delay it a few days. I really don't want to leave you right now."
"But you will return?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"You answered my question with another question."
"Of course, I'm coming back, and as quickly as possible." As I uttered the last phrase, I realized how awful it was. I would return when Kate died. Did I selfishly want to speed that date? I was ashamed of myself.
Pat climbed into my lap and draped her arms around me. We were silent for a few minutes. When she spoke, it was in a whisper. "Life is strange. I find out that the man I love loves me, and he has to reveal it to another woman."
"Would it have been better if I never said it at all?"
"Another question. When will you make a declarative statement?"
I sensed this was my cue to say something meaningful. "Patricia C. Auriga, I love you, and I'm sure I've loved you for quite a while. I was too stupid not to realize it earlier. But now I promise to love you to the end of my life."
"Wow. What more could a woman ask for?"
"Sorry, no questions."
"Just one more. How did you find out my middle name?"
"I don't know your middle name, only the initial. I must have seen it on something. What does the 'C' stand for anyway?"
"Not now. It's time for a kiss, a long sloppy kiss."