Page 71 of Wilder Love
No. No, no, no. Not Jimmy. Please, God. Don’t take him away from Shane. He lost everything, he couldn’t lose his dad too.
I heard footsteps and then Jimmy was in the kitchen, his eyes darting to the invoices clutched in my hand. I’d been caught red-handed, too shocked to even try to hide the fact that I’d been snooping. With trembling hands, I stuffed them back in the envelopes and set them on the counter.
“Jimmy… what’s wrong with you?” I asked, my voice a whisper as I searched his face for answers.
“Forgot about those.” Jimmy stashed the invoices into a drawer and shut it as if that would make it go away.
“Jimmy?”
“You weren’t supposed to see those. I’m not even supposed to see them. Shane takes them before I can open them.”
“Jimmy…” I said again. Whenever I used to look at Jimmy, I could imagine Shane twenty years down the road. I’d always liked what I saw and that hadn’t changed. But upon closer inspection, I saw the changes from the past seven years. His hair, greying at the temples, was short now. I hadn’t noticed it the other day because he’d been wearing a bandana on his head. He used to wear his hair longer like Shane’s. Was he thinner?
“It’s okay, darlin’. How about this lunch you promised me?”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, not even remotely hungry for any of the food I’d brought. But we carried it outside to the table and I picked at my food before finally giving up on pretending to eat. Jimmy had barely touched his. He was rolling a joint as if he’d done it hundreds of times before.
I looked from his hands to his face, really taking him in. He was seven years older, but to me he was ageless. He had lines around his eyes from squinting into the sun. From a lifetime spent in or near the ocean. His skin was tanned. He didn’t look sick. Not really.
His eyes were brown, not hazel like Shane’s and they were studying my face. He lit the joint and closed his eyes as he inhaled, holding it in his lungs before he exhaled. Then he opened his eyes again and he smiled. “This is some good shit.”
Tears stung my eyes. I was two seconds away from losing it.
“Hey, hey. Come on. It’s okay.”
“You’ll be okay? You’re going to be okay?”
He took another hit of his joint, his gaze focused on the backyard. He didn’t answer my question for a good two minutes. I watched a bee buzzing around the potted flowers on the patio. The backyard was like a mini-Paradise of exotic-looking flowers and palm trees. The vegetable and herb garden still flourished.
“No, darlin’,” Jimmy said, finally answering my question. “But you’re going to be okay. You and Shane.” He said the words with so much conviction that I almost believed him. And I knew he was trying to convince himself as much as me.
“What’s wrong with you, Jimmy?”
I held my breath, waiting for his answer. “I have a brain tumor. Glioblastoma Multiforme. Stage Four.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would help me block out the words. “But they can operate, right? They can remove it or give you radiation to shrink it?” I fumbled for the words. I didn’t know the first thing about brain tumors. Except that it sounded bad. So, so bad.
“Afraid not,” he said, with a soft smile as if he was trying to lessen the blow for me.
“But there must be something the doctors can do.” I was grasping at straws, refusing to believe it could be true. Desperate for a remedy or a solution. He shook his head, letting me know there was nothing more the doctors could do. I sat in silence, trying to process this information. Why was this happening to Jimmy? How could the world be so cruel? Jimmy was one of the good guys in a world that had too few of them.
And Shane… oh my God, Shane. I slumped back in my chair and rubbed my chest, trying to alleviate the ache. Shane loved his dad so much.
“There’s nothing they can do?”
“Nope.”
“So now what?”
“I live my life to the fullest. Until I can’t.”
Until I can’t.
“Hopefully, I’ll be seeing my sweet, sweet hippie chick when I get to wherever I’m going.”
His sweet hippie chick was Zoe, Shane’s mom. That was supposed to be the silver lining in this shit cloud but for the people he was leaving behind it was hard to take comfort in that.
Jimmy was calmly smoking his joint while I was dying inside. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you or call you… I thought about you. So much. I wanted to keep in touch, but I was scared, I guess. I was such a coward.”
