“Hey Pops. No, I was waiting for you.” We do this every time we meet for a meal. It’s our routine, so he’s well aware that I wouldn’t dare order without him, but it seems like he can’t resist reliving old habits. That’s where we’re similar. We’re creatures of habit, clinging to traditions and actions that remind us of what we lost. Back when my parents were alive, the four of us would eat here every Thursday night. At this very table. Pops and I don’t meet as often as that, but not a month passes without at least one dinner together. I’m just grateful we’ve past the stage where being here without them brought back the good memories as well as the loss.
He unbuttons his blazer, pulls out the chair opposite me and takes a seat, studying my face more intently than he normally does. “So…how has your week been?” he asks, but before I can answer, one of the servers stops at his side to offer us Pops’ usual brand of whiskey, Glenfiddich Private Vintage Single Malt. On the rocks. He has expensive tastes and the staff here make a point of paying attention to discerning patrons like him. I don’t doubt that as a well-respected entrepreneur, he entertains his clients and associates right here at this same restaurant. Probably at this very table.
“Where were we?” he asks, taking a generous sip from his glass once the server leaves and promises to return in a few minutes to take our food orders. He places the menu on the table and gives me a pointed look, waiting for me to reply.
“Catching up on the same old same old,” I tell him. “That’s why we’re here, right? Our usual?”
“Well, not quite.” The relaxed expression he walked in with leaves his face, replaced by a tighter, more closed-off look.
“No? What’s up? Is this another one of your ‘It’s time to take on more responsibilities at Steele Industries’ talks?” I ask in a voice as low as his tends to become when he delivers one of his go-to lectures.
“It is and it’s not, son. Listen, just let me get this all out.”
“All what out?”
“Son, I mulled over the best way to share this piece of news, and decided it would be better to talk about it here in public… so that we can both keep a level head and not get too wound up or emotional about it.”
“Emotional?” I shake my head at his suggestion. Other than rage inside the ring, I’m not the type to wear my heart on my sleeves, not even with Pops, the only family member I have left in this world. “Whatever your news is, you can give it to me straight. You have nothing to worry about,” I reassure him.
“It’s personal and it involves the business…”
I narrow my eyes, waiting for him to spill it out. All these pregnant pauses and dropping of hints are only making me more anxious. He never drags things out. My grandfather might be a lot of things, but he’s not one to keep me in suspense. I want him to get straight to the point.
“What’s going on?” I demand again and fold my arms across my chest.
Pops sucks in a deep breath and gives me an intense stare. I can’t help but feel that his next words will cut right into my soul.
“It’s cancer,” he says, his voice as low and calm as if he were announcing what he ate for breakfast. “Stage four. I’ve been fighting the good fight for a while, but my oncologist tells me I may lose before the last round.”
Cancer, fighting for a while, losing...
Those words swirl violently around in my mind, not quite making sense. “Wait… what... you...” I stare at him, struggling for words and desperately hoping I heard him wrong. “You…Pops…what are you saying?”
“I’m dying, Knox. If I’m lucky, I’ll have until the late fall. Give or take.”
No, no, no. I shake my head and drop my elbows on the table. This can’t be true. There has to be some kind of mistake. He’s my only living relative. He can’t just accept this. I can’t. I won’t.
“There has to be something we can do. Some treatment or new medicine, something experimental you haven’t tried yet? We’ll get a second opinion. I know a guy who—”
“Knox,” Pops says gently yet with enough force to cut me off. “I know this isn’t good news. My doctors have come at this from every possible angle. We’re out of options. There’s nothing more that can be done. Trust me, we’ve tried everything. God knows I tried…the things I endured, just to stick around to be here a while longer…to be here for you… It just isn’t in the cards, son. There’s no way out of this, but then, no one gets out of this life alive. I’m going to die. Well, we’re all going to die. I just have a clearer, more imminent sense of when that’ll happen.”
“But…” I try to speak but no words will come. The bottom has dropped out from my world. Again. From one second to the next, the foundation on which my life has been built since the age of twelve has just crumbled to shaky sand. My head is floating, the room is spinning, and I have no idea where I am anymore. I can’t think, I can’t speak, I can’t even feel. I’m completely fucking numb.
“I’m sorry, son.” He reaches an arm across the table and pats my forearm. Neither of us speaks for a long time, and when Pops notices the waiter approaching again for our food order, he shakes his head, turning him away.
He purses his lips and clears his throat. “Knowing this, I want us to talk about
