“Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I didn’t misunderstand anything.” His own voice was unrecognizable.
He didn’t remember the last time he saw his brother’s eyes fill with tears, or look so scared. Worst of all he never saw his brother look helpless. “Well we’ll just get a second opinion, I mean there are specialists and we’ll go to Manhattan. We’ll go to one of those Cancer treatment centers.” The tears began to fall and Jake couldn’t stop his body from shaking, watching him fall apart in front of him tore through him.
“It’s going to be okay, alright? We’re going to get through this.”
Who, was he trying to convince me or himself, Jake wondered.
They stared at one another, their eyes red, the silence deafening and as if he was dying in front of him right then and there, Luke grabbed him and held onto him. Jake dropped his head to his shoulder and stained his brother’s shirt with his tears.
His whole existence his brother had always been there for him, the perfect role model, and the man he strived to be more like. He clutched to him, and wondered if he knew how much he meant to him. How much he’d miss him. He couldn’t help thinking he was going to die. He couldn’t be optimistic not when his entire world was just turned upside down by one word. Luke pulled away from him, and wiped at his cheeks roughly. He lifted his chin and forced Jake to look at him.
“You listen to me, and you listen to me good. I’m not going to pretend I know what to do right now, or how to ease what you’re feeling.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll get you the best care there is. We’ll pray. We’ll do whatever it takes. But you have to fight. You have to fight hard.” He looked up at the sky, begging the man upstairs for help. “God, I wish I could take your place.”
“Don’t say that.” Jake pleaded through his sobs.
“Promise me you’re going to fight? Please promise me.” His voice was barely audible and strained with emotion.
“I promise you.” He said automated. The truth was, he had no idea how to fight, not this. He didn’t know if he would be capable.
“Cara.” Luke whispered.
He stopped crying, he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing when he heard her name. He envisioned her face, her smile, and subconsciously his hand fell to his chest, covering the piece of her he would always have. “No, we can’t tell her. Luke you cannot say a word to Cara, do you hear me?”
Luke’s eyes widened and then he tried to rationalize. “Jake you can’t hide this from her.”
“I have too.” He grabbed fistfuls of Luke’s shirt in his hands and dragged him forcefully towards him. “You keep your mouth shut, you hear me? If, I mean anything to you and if you really want to help me, you do not say a word to Cara.” He looked at his hands and how they seemed to strangle the cotton of his brother’s shirt and released. He took a step back, appalled at how he manhandled him. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face angrily, frustrated beyond measure, confused to the point of no return. “This is going to destroy her. It’ll break her.” He croaked.
The vision of her face danced in front of him and he threw his head back and tried to shake it. He tried to shake all the emotions running wild within him. “I’m all she has. It’s not fair.” He cried.
“That’s not true. She has all of us. She always did and always will.” He was struggling to make things right for him.
It didn’t matter; he knew how Cara perceived things better than anyone. She was finally happy, they both were, and he had promised to always make her happy, always be there for her, to never leave her alone, he would be going back on his word. The one person, who was never supposed to dishonor his word to her, was the one that would end up hurting her the most, and the sickest part of it, was that he had no control over it. He’d crush her when all he ever wanted to do was love her for the rest of their lives.
What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t hide cancer. He had no idea what he was in store for, what treatment he would need or where he’d need to go to get it. He could break up with her; tell her she never meant anything to him. Push her away and break both of their hearts, it was inevitable anyway. If he died, she’d be broken. He would just give her an out. She was young and vibrant and didn’t need to be saddled down with a dying man. She deserved to enjoy her life and fulfill her dreams.
She deserved to be loved and to be worshipped, and he couldn’t do that from a hospital bed. Or could he? She would hate him if he lied to her. If he pushed her away and never told her, she’d never forgive him. He wasn’t God, and didn’t like the choice of living or dying being taken from him, and he wasn’t going to take her choice away to love him or leave him. No he’d tell her. He’d let her decide what she wanted, but not now. He couldn’t face her right now.