The Beginning of the End

The first chapter, barring a preface I may add in later.

 

“Oh Jimmy, what have you done?”

His words cut through me like a knife through the heart. The blade twisted around, slicing and churning every organ I needed to live. Everything in me gave up in that moment.

Why him? Why? What did we ever do to deserve this? I asked myself. I already knew the answer. It wasn’t anything he, or we, had done in particular to piss God or some immortal being off. It was what he had done to his body. A scientific cause and effect. A bad lifestyle equates to health problems. But why this? I should have asked myself. Why not something more curable. Something that can be reversed easily with good diet and exercise. Why cancer?

He sat in the chair defeated. His body hunched in on itself, his head buried in his hands. I wanted to comfort him. To tell him that everything would be fine. But that would be lying and I’ve never been a good liar at the best of times. Instead, I sat in the chair feeling my heart shatter like glass. The shards poured from my cheeks; I could no longer stop them.

We sat together in the lonely assessment room. The only place they could put us while we grieved. The room was white and some off grey colour. Machines circled the entire room. Bed, chairs, oxygen mask, treadmill, and machines a degree in medicine would require. Posters circled the room preaching about the importance of health and looking after your body. Just what we needed.

I had never seen my dad look so whitewashed. I wanted to make things better, like he had always done to me, but I couldn’t. Nothing I could do would make this better. Unless I found a cure behind one of the posters. He had always been so strong and so sure. He had always been the one to pick me up from the ground, wipe my kneecaps clean, and make me smile. His hugs could cure even the most miserable of moods. And yet I could not return the favour.

Instead, I watched him, the strong and brave man I had always known, break down.

“We don’t know if it’s for definite. They haven’t done any tests yet.” My only pitiful argument. “It could be benign.” Hope is an odd thing, isn’t it?

Knock knock knock.

“Mr Devine.” Someone popped their head around the door. Talked about something I couldn’t remember and wasn’t really listening to anyway. I wanted to. But every pause and every moment the same words reeled around in my head: He has cancer. He has cancer. I don’t want to say goodbye. Please.

We were ushered out of the hospital like pale zombies.

The bus rolled forward and squeaked to a halt. “Are you going to be alright?” I asked him as we were waiting in the queue.

“Yes,” he lied.

“I love you.” I tried my best to fight the next bout of tears that threatened to surface. I didn’t want him to see me cry. I had to be strong for him like he has been for me. He got on the bus. The doors closed.

Tears streamed down my drying cheeks, soaking them again in salty residue. Just when I thought I couldn’t cry any more, more tears fell. When I thought I couldn’t feel any worse, the feeling of loss and grief and love assaulted me.

A buzzing in my pocket. Stacey. One soothing breath. Two. Three soothing breaths. Control.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Is dad there?”

“He just got the bus home.”

“How did him appointment go?” The unasked question lingered in the air.

“Not good. They think he has cancer.”

Silence.

A horrible sound filtered through the phone. A sound that pretty much summed up what I was feeling. “They need to do some tests as soon as possible. Next week, I think they start,” I said after she had composed herself a little.

“What are you doing now?”

“Going to uni.”

“Why don’t you go home?”

“Because then I will do nothing but think about what has happened. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”

I crossed the road heading towards the bus stop I needed. In more detail, I explained what the doctor had said. About what tests they will be doing. When. What they are going to do after. I hung up the phone as the bus pulled in.

Red eyes, puffy cheeks, crushed, I crawled onto the double decker bus and sat on the top floor, at the front, where no one could see me break down all over again.

Author's Note

Please be sensible with criticism. It is a sensitive and personal subject I am disclosing here. So be aware and give constructive criticism only. Thank you.