What Do You Have Available?

I never really thought about destiny until I met Kate.

Destiny. Fate. Those were things they talked about in the movies.

It wasn’t real life.

Twenty years ago, I was twenty-five years old.

And if you ask me how I was, there wouldn’t be much to say.

I was living my life like it didn’t matter.

I got up. Watched T.V. Ate. Went to bed.

I drove for Uber when I needed to pay the rent and that was all.

Most people would think there had to be a reason for this sort of behavior.

There wasn’t.

I just didn’t care.

About anything.

At 11pm on June 25th 2023, I was sitting at home, bored. I wasn’t tired and there wasn’t really anything on television I wanted to watch, so I decided to go driving.

As soon as I logged onto Uber, I got a notification to pick up Kate Mendez.

I drove to her location and waited, listening to Ice Cube rap about how he had had a good day.

I remember this because I would hear the song later on.

I scrolled through Instagram as I waited and then heard someone trying to open the back door.

I turned and watched the weirdest looking woman I had ever seen climb into the back of my car.

Her hair was bright orange.

Her eyebrows were dyed green.

She had on bright yellow overalls with a baby blue tank-top underneath, and a black knitted sweater that had too many giant holes in it for it to be warm.

And giant purple rainboots.

She looked like a cartoon character.

“For Kate?” she asked.

Her voice was raspy and deep.

And sexy, I thought.

“Yea,” I said, “For Kate.”

I started to drive, and I couldn’t help glancing back at her through the rearview mirror almost every second.

I was taking her to LAX and asked,

“So, where are you off to?”

“Don’t know yet,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Going to see what’s available,” she said smiling.

I stared at her again in the rearview mirror and she laughed.

“I go to the airport and see what flights still have seats available and pick the cheapest one.”

I stared at her again with my mouth open and she laughed harder, snorting into her knitted sweater.

“I know, I know,” she said, “It’s a little wild, huh?”

“A little?” I asked.

She smiled.

“I like the surprise,” she said, “It’s part of the vacation for me. The not knowing makes it fun.”

“Ok,” I said, “But what if the only flight available is to some small town in the middle of nowhere? Or somewhere you have absolutely zero interest in? Or somewhere where the politics just suck or-

“I want to go everywhere,” she said looking out the window, her eyes drifting to somewhere else. And I wanted to know so badly what she was thinking. But before I could ask, she said-

“And there are good people everywhere,” she said firmly, sounding like Anne Frank.

“I’ve been to the south,” she continued, “I’ve been to the North. I’ve been to small towns and big cities. I even went across the ocean a few times and each time, there was always something to value. Always someone worth talking to and always something to see.”

“But, how do you even prepare?” I asked, looking at her single backpack, “What if you’ve only packed tank-tops but you land in Siberia?”

She laughed, “I can always buy when I get there.”

“That sounds expensive,” I said and watched her shrug.

“I make enough money to make this work,” she said smiling.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m a makeup and costume designer,” she said, “Can’t you tell?”

It was my turn to laugh then.

“That’s cool,” I said, “How long have you been doing that?”

“Forever,” she said, “It’s been my dream since I was a kid. I spent my childhood mowing people’s lawns and taking out their trash so I could save all my pennies to buy makeup or clothes from the thrift store that I’d then rip up to make something new. I watched movies and shows of all different genres and styles and would try to emulate their look as best as I could.”

“Wow,” I said, “Living your dream.”

“That’s the only way to live,” she said, smiling.

I felt like she had punched me in the gut.

That’s not how I was living.

That’s not how I ever lived.

“What’s your dream?” she asked me.

“Not everyone has one,” I said harshly, and I could see her green eyebrows raise at me.

“I disagree,” she said.

“Of course you do,” I said, “You’re living yours.”

“Well, what was yours?” she asked.

I wanted to tell her to mind her own business.

To shut up and leave me alone.

What right did she have to ask me something so personal?

But the thing was, I did have one.

I had loved to draw as a kid.

And I was good.

But I was told, by everyone, that it wasn’t a real job. That it wouldn’t make me any money. That I wasn’t good enough to go very far.

So, I stopped.

As I sat there driving Kate, I tried to remember the last time I had picked up a pencil to sketch and I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember something that had once been so important to me.

“What was it?” she asked again.

“Not everyone has a dream,” I insisted, wanting to prove her wrong even though she was right.

“You did,” she said, “I can see it on that stupid cute face of yours.”

I looked at her.

Stupid cute.

Even though I was angry at this woman, I couldn’t help smiling.

Stupid cute.

“An artist,” I said quietly.

“What kind?” she asked.

“I drew mostly,” I said, “Pencils were mainly what I used but I also loved charcoal.”

“Why’d you stop?” she asked.

“I…I didn’t think I could make anything happen with it,” I said.

“Don’t believe the lies they tell you,” she said, reading me so well it was terrifying, “They’re only spreading their own fear. Don’t let their own insecurities touch you.”

We were quiet for a while after that, and I found myself studying her whenever I could.

The shape of her nose.

The curve of her lips.

The little mole she had on her chin.

“You think I’m stupid cute, too?” she asked, looking out the window and smiling.

“I do,” I said, because what there was no reason to lie at this point.

“Good,” she said.

I watched her pull a little journal covered in flowers out of her backpack.

It didn’t surprise me at all that this girl carried a journal.

She wrote something on a page and then ripped it out and handed it to me.

“My number,” she said as I stopped in front of her terminal.

I took the paper and smiled.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’ll be back sometime next week,” she said smiling back at me and then she said, “Unless…you wanna come with me?”

I stared at her.

“You don’t know me,” I said, “You could end up hating me.”

“Sure,” she said, “What better way to found out than on a trip?”

I had nowhere else to go.

There was no reason to say no.

So, I didn’t.

We ended up getting on a plane to Chicago.

She took out her airpods and gave one to me as she pressed play on her Spotify.

And I laughed so hard as I heard Ice Cube tell me he had had a good day.

It is 11pm, twenty years later and I am staring at Kate and mine’s wedding picture.

I always wondered what would have happened to me if I hadn’t been bored enough that night.

If I hadn’t decided to log onto Uber.

Would I have kept drifting aimlessly?

Probably.

But the world had other plans.

It brought me Kate Mendez.

And with her, a life that I never thought I could have.

She died two weeks ago of cancer.

For two weeks I have been raging and cursing and wanting to destroy the world for taking her away from me.

Why give me something so good only to have it snatched away so quickly?

I am calmer tonight.

I don’t know why.

Maybe it’s the hour.

Maybe it’s the fact that as I was listening to the radio this morning, Ice Cube came on and told me he had had a good day.

I am holding the small wooden box that has Kate’s ashes inside of it.

I am getting into my car.

I am driving to the airport.

I stop at the first terminal.

I walk up to the first desk I see.

“Hello,” says the man behind the desk, “How can I help you?”

“I want to go somewhere,” I say.

“Where would you like to go?” he asks.

I want to go back, I think.

I want to go to a world where she still exists.

I want her to be alive.

I want, maybe to have never met her, because I think this pain might destroy me.

No, I think immediately.

Never meeting Kate would be the worst pain imaginable.

It would have been a life not worth living.

But instead of saying any of that, I just say what Kate always said,

“What do you have available?”