by Bradon Nave
“You don’t date because you’re afraid of how I’ll take it. And you don’t wanna have to explain your son’s faulty wiring.”
“That’s enough of that bullshit, Jessie Kasper,” my father said as he sat the mayonnaise jar down and walked toward me.
I couldn’t remember the last time my dad was genuinely angry with me—but something about his eyes gave me the impression he was now.
“There is nothing on this earth that you could say or do that would make me less proud to be your father. When I look at you, all I see is one of my greatest achievements…you and Cory…you boys will always be the best part of my life. I love you…I don’t say it enough, but I love you, Son. If I wanted to date…I would date. I’m not ready, Jess. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, and you know what? That’s okay,” he said as he turned from me. Guilt was brewing in my belly. I didn’t want to eat the sandwich he’d prepared, but I knew he’d watch me eat it.
“I love you too, Dad,” I said as I grabbed his Sonic cup and sipped a drink through the straw. I immediately headed for the sink, spewing it out.
“What the hell?” my dad said softly.
Angered, I grabbed his drink and yanked the lid off it, pouring it in the sink.
“Dammit, Jessie.”
“No, Dad! You promised no more diet drinks…you swore no more aspartame!”
“Calm the hell down, son. Don’t get worked up.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re yelling. Please…calm down.”
He was right. I was yelling, and my heart was galloping in my chest, my pulse felt as though it could erupt from the top of my skull—all within a matter of seconds. “That stuff will kill you, Dad. There’s studies, dammit. I showed you…you promised me.”
“Jess…I promise you, again, I won’t drink it anymore. I ordered it out of habit. I took two sips. I swear I put it down as soon as I remembered. Jessie, I run over twenty miles a week. I can out-lift you, and I’m one of the healthiest eaters I know. I’m not going to get cancer.”
“You can’t promise that. You don’t know that.”
“Look at us, son. We’re healthy. You are healthy. I am in picture-perfect health. I’m not going anywhere,” he said as he put his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered as I looked to the floor, avoiding eye contact.
“You’re good. Eat,” he demanded lightly as he gently shook my shoulder.
“Dad,” I said as he turned from me.
“Yes, son?”
“You didn’t cut the crusts off.”
“You shithead.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Duke, dude…it’s freezing in your house.”
“It is cold. Wanna toss the skin around?” he asked while I sprawled out belly-up on the carpeted floor of his bedroom. Duke’s house was nearly the exact same layout as my own—two-story, cottage-looking, and built in the 1920s.
“Yeah,” I said as Duke sat up from his bed, tossing the football at me. “You douche…that almost hit me in the nuts.”
“They dropped? Congratulations, man.”
“Your mom don’t have trouble finding them.”
“Is that so?” asked Duke’s mom, Judy, from the doorway.
“Oh…hi. Um…” Humiliated, I couldn’t formulate the appropriate apology. Judy and I were close, but not to the point I was comfortable joking with the woman about my anatomy.
“Busted!” Duke chuckled from his bed.
“I actually prefer my nuts with hair, baby boy. That’s why I’m off to Larry’s”
I felt my face flush, but I couldn’t help but smile at her crass and unexpected comment.
“Mom! Too much. Get the hell out of here, nasty,” Duke protested.
“Kisses,” the woman said as she stepped over me, kissing her son on the cheek. “Love you, D.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
“You too, Jess,” she demanded. I raised myself, jokingly presenting my cheek for her to peck.
“What are you little monsters doing tonight?” she asked as she headed for the door.
“Lily and Sarah are coming over,” Duke said.
“Lily? Indeed. Young man, I will not tell you again…stop flushing your used condoms down the toilet. It’s going to plug the shit up. And it’s the last thing I want to see floating in there in the morning,” she snapped halfheartedly.
“Awkward,” I said lowly.
“Really, Mom?”
“Love you boys,” she said as she exited the room.
“Dude. Can I get the last two minutes of my life back?” I asked as I rolled on my stomach.
“What?”
“How you and your mom talk to each other sometimes…too much.”
“She’s just giving me a hard time, man. Trying to embarrass me,” he said, holding his hands up for me to throw him the football.
“She embarrassed me. I don’t even talk to my dad like that.”
“Condoms? Dude, she’s the one that buys them for me. No joke. She checks my nightstand. I don’t even have to ask.”
“That’s just weird,” I said.
“Um. No. Not really. I’m her son. We’re tight. She wants me to be careful. Not weird at all, Jess.”
“Guess you’re right. Backyard?”
We headed down the stairs and to the backyard with the football.
“When’s your next shrink appointment?” he asked as we walked out the back door.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Same time?”
“Yeah, buddy,” I said loudly as I walked to the opposite side of the yard.
Within seconds, Duke sent a beautifully thrown football sailing in my direction.
“Good toss,” I said.
“Good catch…pick you up at nine?”
“You sure?” I asked as I threw the ball back.
“Yes, sir.”
“Breakfast is on me,” I said appreciatively. “What time are the girls coming over?”
“About an hour.”
***
“They seem to have no shame,” Sarah said as we sat on the couch in the living room downstairs. Duke and Lily were clearly having an excellent time behind his bedroom door upstairs. Her moans and his occasional groans and grunts were escalating—I wanted to escape them before the big moment occurred. The situation was no longer just awkward, it was rude. No one needs to be that loud. If his mother were there, he wouldn’t be that loud.
“I’m gonna go sit on the porch swing,” I said to Sarah. She immediately stood from the couch to follow me. The night had already settled on us, and the air was still. Other than a barking dog in the distance, the evening was basically silent.
I sat on the swing, and Sarah sat next to me. “It’s nice out,” I said, resting my hands behind my head.
“I’m not ready for school,” she said as she tweeted or posted or messaged from her phone.
“One more semester…where you going to school?”
“K.U.” she said, staring at her phone.
“Major?”
“Business,” she replied. She seemed uninterested in the conversation.
“Cool. I’m still not sure.”
We sat silently for several seconds—finally her phone screen fell black. “You coming back to work here when you’re done with school or—?”
“I don’t know, Jessie,” she said, soft but snappy.
“Okay…will you tell Duke I’ll text him later?” I said as I stood from the swing.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Home…I’m gonna walk home.”
“Why?” she asked. Her voice sounded irritated.
“You don’t really seem all that interested in anything I have to say…you haven’t all night. You act like I’m on your nerves or something.”
“It’s not…it’s not that, Jessie. Duke said you were down. I just…I don’t much feel like talking is all.”
I didn’t know Sarah very well. She didn’t have a reputation for
sleeping around, so this somewhat threw me off. I quickly sat back down as my train of thought changed courses entirely.
“Yeah. I am. I’m down.”
Within seconds our lips were locked. I wasn’t sure where to place my hands, and then I felt hers under my shirt, on my stomach. I gently grabbed the back of her head under her long, blonde hair as my other hand ventured under her shirt—finding her bra; I hate bras. My hand was shaking as I slid my index and middle fingers between the cup and her skin. She immediately pushed me back. I thought perhaps I’d done something wrong—nope, she had her bra unfastened and out from under her T-shirt within seconds.
“Here? Just here on the porch?” I asked.
“It’s pitch-black out here, Jessie.”
“I don’t…I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m a girl on a mission,” she said, reaching into the front pocket of her jeans, pulling out a Trojan condom.
I instantly put both hands up her shirt again as we began kissing. I was nearly incapable of keeping up with her advances. I even jumped slightly when her hand went down the front of my shorts—but in that second I was hers.
She pushed me back on the swing and chuckled lightly as she positioned herself below me between my knees, looking up at me as she began pulling my shorts down.
“What?” I swallowed hard. “What’s funny?”
“Oh…you boys had a lot in common,” she said. I was now completely exposed, my shorts and boxers around my knees.
“Duke?”
“No,” she said sternly. “Gross, hell no. Cory.”
“What?” I snapped as I leaned forward.
“Trust me, Jess. It’s a good thing,” she said as she attempted to push me back onto the swing. “Relax—”
“Why would you say that? Why would you think it’s cool to say that to me?”
“I’m sorry,” she hissed, her eyes rolling.
I lifted my butt from the swing, pulling my shorts up. I then stood above her. “I’m outta here,” I said softly.
“Good luck walking that off,” she said, looking at my crotch as I attempted to cover myself.
“Why would you tell me that, Sarah? He was my brother. Why would you tell me you two hooked up?”
“I thought you knew,” she said softly. Standing to meet me.
“No. No, I didn’t. Is that why you wanted this?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“You’re not the only one that misses him, Jess. I just wanted something stupid. I wanted to feel close to him. You…you look like him out here. As long as you’re not talking, it’s like I’m around him.”
“Wow. Thanks. I’m not him, Sarah. I thought I had issues, but that’s just sick. You’re sick—” I turned from her, walking briskly across Duke’s yard, toward my house. I felt her small hand grab my bicep from behind, pulling on me. I was livid but turned to face her anyway. “What!”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You’re…you’re a good guy, Jessie. I’m horrible. I’m horrible. Please forgive me. I cared about him so much. My head’s not right…it hasn’t been. I don’t know why I do half the stuff I do.”
“Sarah…” Before I could muster additional words, she was hugging me.
“Jessie, please forgive me. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not him. I’m not my brother. I can’t be that for you.”
“I know. I know that. I’m sorry. I can’t have you hating me. Please don’t hate me.”
I couldn’t hate her—I wanted to, but I knew what she meant when she said she didn’t know why she did the stuff she did.
“I don’t hate you.”
“Come back to the house,” she begged.
“I’ve got a set of blue balls to walk off,” I said—trying to calm the mood, mine mostly.
“I’ll walk with you. I’ll even let you talk,” she said jokingly.
I felt my anger leaving as quickly as my arousal. “’K.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Breast cancer?” Dr. Cline confirmed.
“Yep.”
“How long was she sick?”
“How long? Not long at all. She was…she was tanning in the backyard during summer. She found the lump when she was putting on lotion. She was gone before the summer of the next year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Jessie. It must have been advanced.”
“By the time they found out she was sick…it was everywhere.”
Dr. Cline’s office was lighter during this visit. Maybe it was just because my mood was lighter. He seemed pleased with my efforts of communication.
“How old was you mother when she passed away, Jessie?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Way too young.”
“She did everything for us. She and my dad…they did everything for us.”
“She sounds like she was an amazing woman.”
“She was, Dr. Cline.”
“Jessie,” Dr. Cline said in a serious tone as he leaned forward.
“Yes.”
“May we please talk about Cory now? At least attempt to talk about him.”
Surprisingly, my heartrate didn’t elevate at the request. “What do you want to know?”
“When did he get sick?”
“He was seventeen,” I said softly.
“Can you expand on that? Tell me how you and your family learned of his illness.”
I coughed, clearing my throat as I wriggled in my chair. “We were—we were in the locker room after practice…” my voice began cracking.
“Take your time, Jessie.”
“It was after practice. He showered and was drying off. Coach noticed a lump…there was this lump right here.” I demonstrated, pointing under my left clavicle. “It was obvious. You could see it. He said he just didn’t think anything of it. It was a good size, though.”
“It had started as testicular cancer?”
“Yep.”
“Had Cory mentioned anything strange about that area to you? Any subtle changes?”
“No. I think if he would have known, he would have told me. His physician said it wasn’t even that noticeable there. They caught it too late.”
“How long did Cory live after he was diagnosed?”
“About seven months, I guess. It was in his chest, his guts. But he almost beat it.”
“He responded poorly to therapy?”
“That’s what took my brother…not just the cancer. His last week was on life support. That bullshit they pumped into him. He wasn’t sick until they treated him. He lost weight, he couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“Did you assist him with his care at home?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Is that something you regret?”
“Regret? Nah…not at all. My brother was a modest person. Cory was pretty modest. He didn’t want anyone but me or my dad helping him with personal stuff. He didn’t…he didn’t get bad, bad until about two months before.” It oddly felt good to talk to Dr. Cline. Unlike my father, I could discuss Cory without having to worry about hurting anyone’s feelings or saying the wrong thing.
“So you lost your mother and your brother to cancer within a very short period of time. You were there for their diagnosis, their treatment, and their passing, correct?”
“Yep.”
“Jessie, of course you’re going to develop an unnatural fear. You’ve lost two of the most important figures in your life to it. Both of these individuals were young and otherwise healthy…this makes this type of passing unconscionable. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Sometimes I’ll take my mom’s hand mirror. I’ll look for hours for new moles. And…and sometimes I’ll be in class, feeling for swollen nodes under my armpits and in my neck. My doctor told me to stop feeling for lumps and bumps. I see him once a month and he checks me out head to toe completely free of charge…off the record.”
“Why?”
“He’s been my doctor since I was little. And I’ll feel around for hours. I’ll convince myself I feel something. The
n the next day when I’m sore and it hurts to run or lift, I convince myself it’s because the tumor is agitated.”
“Jessie, lymph nodes and glands will become agitated if they’re messed with too much. Pressing on them for hours at a time can definitely cause issues.”
“I know.”
“Listen to yourself talk, Mr. Kasper. You are completely aware that what you’re doing is irrational. You’ve shown me that you believe your behavior is irrational. That’s huge.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now. Tell me about the trips to the emergency room.”
“What about them?” I asked curiously.
“Tell me how you felt right before you went there.”
I thought about the question briefly, but there was no way to accurately portray the acute insanity that took my mind during one of those episodes. “I felt like a wild man.”
“A wild man?” Dr. Cline repeated while smiling.
“It’s like I can’t breathe, and all the walls are closing in around me. I can hear people but not what they’re saying.”
“An anxiety attack.”
“A freakin’ crazy attack,” I said, smiling back at him.
“I’m going to write you a prescription for an antianxiety medication that’s worked wonders for several of my patients.”
“You think it’ll work for me?”
“Jessie, I think we have a bit of work to do, but you’re going to be fine. Do as I ask you to do, and you’ll be fine.”
“You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that,” I said.
“Good,” he replied as he handed me the prescription. “I’ll see you next week. If you need me this weekend, please call.”
“Thanks, Dr. Cline.”
I opened the door expecting to see goofy Duke reading some sports magazine—but I saw her. I’ve never been so awestruck by a girl that I literally stopped whatever I was doing and stared. She was perfection. She glanced at me and offered a friendly smile, pushing her dark brown hair behind her ear. I took a few steps forward, nearly running into a knee-high glass table. She laughed as she stood from her seat. Dr. Cline motioned her into his office and closed the door.