The conversation was mundane. Jared and Deirdre talked about their home life, their struggle with Jared’s cancer, and Jared’s time in the legislature. Megan talked about school and boys and her favorite television shows, including Oh, Charlie, which, of course, gave Jo an opportunity to promote the next episode. She had even managed to bring a thirty-second clip, which the family awkwardly interrupted dinner to watch. Jackie was mostly silent.
When the meal was over, everyone escorted Jo to the door to say good night. Jo, who wanted the girls to now call her “Aunt Jo,” even kissed Megan on the head before she left.
Of course, the next night, when the episode aired, America saw a decidedly different version of events. Thanks to the magic of editing, every member of the Stone family, even Jackie, hung on Jo’s every word. Only Jared—who had been a polite if somewhat withdrawn host—didn’t seem to be part of the conversation. The editors succeeded in making Jared look befuddled. They had captured a series of grimaces he made in normal response to conversation and used those to project the image of a man in dire pain.
When Jo was interviewed by Andersona after dinner, in a temporary studio built on the front lawn of the house, she was able to make herself cry when talking about how moved she was by Jared and his family and how cancer was such a truly awful thing.
“Honey,” Andersona said when the cameras stopped rolling, “you’re going to win an Emmy for this.”
Jo hugged Andersona and then winked at Jackie, who, at Andersona’s invitation, had been sitting in the corner, recording the entire scene with her iPhone.
***
At first, Hazel Huck figured the letter from Jackie was some sort of prank. But there it was on YouTube, the premiere episode of The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon. It was more of a home movie than it was a television show, but it was still captivating to actually see Jared Stone and his family behind the scenes.
She sat down and wrote a quick note back to Jackie, thanking her for the letter and telling her how much she admired what she was doing. She included her e-mail address.
Ten minutes later, Hazel was logging in to Azeroth, sharing the The Real Family Stone of Portland, Oregon link with all two hundred of her guild members.
***
The day after Jo Garvin came to dinner, Jared slipped into an uneasy sleep on his office futon. Glio, who was becoming less brain tumor and more Jared every day, continued the unstoppable assault on his host.
Having dined on the vast catalog of memories from Jared’s early life, and bored with the more recent offerings, Glio turned his attention away from memories and focused instead on other parts of the brain. Glio swam from the hippocampus to the cerebellum, which controlled some of Jared’s more basic motor skills and bodily functions.
First he feasted on the neurons that regulated control over Jared’s bowels and bladder; then it was the grouping of cells that moved Jared’s blood in that narrow band of acceptable pressure; and finally he sampled a small piece of the complex pattern of neurons that controlled Jared’s balance.
It was interesting to Glio, but not satisfying. He swam back to the hippocampus and munched on memories of Jared’s favorite movies like they were popcorn slathered in butter and salt.
***
When Jared woke from his nap, he found that he had soiled himself. It was the first time it had happened, and it was, he knew, a sign of how far his disease had progressed. He stood up to go to the bathroom and clean himself off and immediately fell back to the ground with a thud.
“What the fuck,” he was able to mutter.
He gathered his wits as best he could and pushed himself up on his hands and knees; he crawled to the bathroom, where he more or less collapsed. Jared knew he should probably call for Deirdre, but he was too embarrassed.
“Cancer,” he said aloud, “is a bitch.”
The cool tile of the bathroom floor on his cheek gave Jared confidence; he propped himself upright and steadied himself with the sink. After a miserable fifteen minutes spent struggling out of his clothes, rinsing them off, and then getting into the shower, he was clean and felt a little refreshed. He was still dizzy, and he could feel his heart race every time he stood up, but the worst of it was behind him.
With a Herculean effort, he made it to the bedroom, where, after shoving his wet clothes under the bed, he collapsed face-first onto the pillow and fell asleep.
Jared’s secret stayed intact for exactly five hours, until Life and Death aired that night. The cameras had caught everything, including the “Cancer is a bitch” line, right up until he closed the bathroom door. It all ran before the opening credits.
After the first commercial break, Deirdre’s face filled the screen. You could hear Andersona off-camera. “So what did you think when you saw Jared crawl to the bathroom?”
Deirdre’s eyes welled up. “I’m not going to do this.” She stood up, took off her lapel mic, and left.