For the Fourth of July, I chartered a seventy-five foot yacht and invited three of my best friends and their families along for a full day of fishing, fireworks, and fun.
“So what is this, practice for the big Backstreet cruise?” Kevin joked, as we cruised down the California coastline.
Howie and AJ and I all looked at each other. No one had mentioned the cruise since I’d told them about my diagnosis. December seemed a long way off; who knew what kind of shape I’d be in then? It would have to be discussed at some point, once we told Jenn, but before then, I had bigger things to worry about: like telling Kevin.
It had come up on the plane ride home from Vegas. “When are you going to talk to Kevin?” Howie had asked, looking at me seriously. “You have to tell him soon. It’s only fair, now that we know.”
I knew he was right, but I was dreading it. Kevin has always been sensitive about the subject of cancer, after losing his dad to it so young. It’s not like it’s an easy topic for anyone to talk about; we’ve all known people who have had it and died from it. Still, I knew telling Kevin I was sick was going to be even harder than telling the other three. It was going to crush him.
I couldn’t think of how I was even going to do it. I hated the thought of inviting him over or just showing up on his doorstep to drop the cancer bomb. I couldn’t imagine doing it in public, either, like at a restaurant or on the golf course. What if he freaked out or cried or something? No, I definitely couldn’t do it in public. I would have to tell him in private, but I still hated the idea of doing it alone. Call me a chicken, but just like I’d wished Cary would stay with me when I told the guys, I wanted them around for moral support when I told Kev, for him as much as for me.
That was where the Fourth of July came in. AJ had asked if I had any plans. My only plans were to spend the rest of the weekend lying around in my condo. I’d catch up on some sleep, and maybe I’d be able to watch some fireworks from my balcony. He and Rochelle had been invited to a friend’s barbeque, he’d said, but they could change their plans, if I wanted to get together and invite Kevin. Howie was down for that, too, since he’d just been planning to spend the holiday with his family. By the time the plane landed at LAX, we had a full-fledged plan for how to break the news to Kevin.
Now here we were, onboard a luxury yacht, streaming down the west coast towards Mexico.
“You bet,” I joked with Kevin. “I’m gonna drive the cruise ship.”
“Lord help us,” Howie chimed in, shaking his head.
Without missing a beat, Kevin said, “Watch out for sea grass.”
Howie and AJ started cracking up. I’d never live down that boating accident, even though it had been, like, ten years. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I muttered.
“It’s okay, Nick,” said AJ. “I’ll be your lookout.” He put on his thickest Cockney accent and yelled, “Sea grass, right ahead!”
They all laughed again, and this time, I joined in. It was nice spending the day with the three of them, not touring or doing press appearances, but just hanging out. We didn’t get to do that much anymore, which, I realized, was kind of sad. Of course, it would have been better if Brian was with us, too, and if Rochelle, Leigh, Kristin, and the kids weren’t, but there was no inviting the guys on a trip like this on a holiday without including their women. They were kind of a package deal these days. Kevin never would have come without Kristin and Mason, and I needed him there, even if I was dreading ruining his holiday with my bad news.
The day was overcast and unseasonably cool, which gave me an excuse to keep my shirt on. We were all bundled up in jackets and hoodies as we sat out on the boat deck, soaking up the little bit of sun we could whenever it peeked out from behind the gray clouds. Finally, in the afternoon, the sun came out to stay, and we took off our jackets and fished over the side of the boat. No one caught much, but that was okay; I’d brought along more than enough food, including thick steaks to grill for our dinner.
When the sun started to sink in the sky, we dropped anchor a few miles off the coast of San Diego. The others went into the cabin to warm up, while I got set up to cook the steaks on the back deck. “Wanna help man the grill?” I asked Kevin in what I hoped sounded like a casual way. I knew this was my chance to talk to him privately.
“You better go, dude,” AJ told Kevin, before he could answer. “I like my steak well done, but not burnt to a crisp, if you know what I mean. Don’t let him fuck up our dinner.”
Kevin chuckled. “No worries. I’m on it.” He followed me to the back of the boat, where I stalled as long as I could, making small talk while I messed around with the grill. By the time the steaks were cooking, though, I’d run out of things to say, except the one thing I had to tell him.
“I’m glad you could come out today, man,” I said, leaving him sitting on one of the padded seats as I got up to check the steaks. I was more comfortable with my back to him; it helped not to have to look at him.
“Me too, bro,” Kevin replied, in that mellow drawl of his. “Thanks for the invite. I feel like I don’t get to see much of you guys anymore, even though we all have places in the same town. It’s been nice hangin’ out like this.”
I felt a wave of guilt crash over my head as I realized that, one, he was right… two, I was about to ruin our nice day by telling him I had cancer… and, three, once he knew, he was going to feel guilty, too, for not spending more time with me. I didn’t want him to feel bad. Hell, I still wished I could keep the whole thing a secret, but I knew it just wasn’t possible anymore. Howie was right; now that he, AJ, and Brian knew, it wasn’t fair to keep Kevin in the dark. He was my brother, the same as them. In a way, he’d practically raised me. I owed him a lot, least of all this. Telling him would hurt, but not telling him would hurt him even worse, in the long run.
“Yeah, it’s been nice for me, too,” I agreed. I picked up a spatula and started fumbling with one of the steaks. “I’ve been going through some shit lately,” I added, as off-handedly as I could. I flipped the steak over, even though it wasn’t even close to being done on that side yet.
But Kevin was way too sharp for the casual routine to work. He’s always been able to see right through my bullshit, and this was no exception. “What kind of shit?” he asked me directly.
I sucked in as deep a breath as I could take. My chest felt tight, like it was being squeezed by a giant rubber band. I knew it had nothing to do with the tumor and everything to do with the fear I was feeling right then. Just say it, I urged myself. Get it over with. “Some health shit,” I muttered.
His own intake of breath was loud enough for me to hear it, and before I could elaborate, he asked, “With your heart?”
I actually chuckled. “No. Not that.” I wish, I almost said, but I wasn’t sure that was really something to wish for. “Um, so… yeah… I have cancer.”
I was still facing the grill when I said it, and he was still sitting behind me, so I never saw the look that flashed across his face when he first understood what I’d said, and I stubbornly kept my back to him until he finally said, “Nick… look at me. Are you bein’ serious right now?”
Why did they all think I was just messing with them at first? I mean, I know I’m the biggest practical joker of all of us, but damn. Who the hell jokes about having cancer? Not even I would pull something that fucked up.
But I knew. In a way, I even understood. It was denial. They all wanted so desperately to believe I was just kidding because they couldn’t handle the idea that I could really be sick. I got that much.
I forced myself to turn around so Kevin could see that I wasn’t trying to fuck with him. “I’m serious,” I said. I even pointed at my chin and added, “See? This is my serious face.” But I sort of ruined the effect by cracking a smile. I didn’t mean to do that; there was really nothing to smile about. I just wanted to lighten the mood. I think I only ended up confusing Kev more. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I wish I was kidding, but I’m not.”
Kevin let out a sigh and slumped in his seat, dragging a hand down over his face. When he did that, he suddenly looked old. I could see all the lines on his face, wrinkles I hadn’t really noticed in broad daylight. Those lines hadn’t been there a few years ago, either, but I definitely noticed them now.
“Sorry,” I said again, feeling guilty for making him look that way.
“No.” He shook his head, straightening up. “Don’t say that. What are you sorry for? I’m sorry, Nick. You’re too young to be dealing with shit.” I guess he meant actually having cancer, since he’d been a lot younger than me when he watched his dad go through it. “What kind is it?” he wanted to know.
I told him what I knew. It was easier to keep talking once I’d started, even though it meant telling him how serious it was and how long I’d been hiding it. Surprisingly, he didn’t lecture me. That was a first. Instead, he just said, “Oh, Nick…” and somehow, that was worse. “The other guys know, don’t they?” he asked, and I nodded.
“They just found out last week, though,” I added quickly, as if that made it better. “I wanted to tell you in person, too, not over the phone.”
Kevin nodded, putting his hand over his face again. He sat like that for a few seconds, not moving, and I just stood there, waiting for him to say something, not knowing what else to say, myself. Finally, he asked, “What kind of treatment have they got you on? You are doing treatment, aren’t you?” He looked up at me sharply; I guess he was worried I was going to say there were no options or that I’d already given up on treatment.
“Yeah… chemo,” I answered quickly. Then I launched into another explanation about that. I told him about Cary and how she’d made it possible for me to do my treatments on the road, how I was glad I’d done it that way, even though I was also glad the tour was over, for now. “It sucks, but I guess it ain’t that bad. I’m still alive, anyway. And between cycles, I feel pretty good. Better than before I was diagnosed, anyway. So it seems to be helping.”
“When will you know if it worked?”
“I go in next week for some tests and my sixth cycle. I guess I’ll find out then how things are going and what’s gonna happen next.” I tried to keep my voice light and casual, like I wasn’t worried about it, but I’m sure Kevin could see right through that, too.
“Let me know if you want someone along for moral support at your appointment,” he offered, getting up. He came to stand beside me in front of the grill and slung his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve been down this road before, you know. I know a thing or two about the journey.”
I nodded, reaching around to pat his back. “Thanks, Kev.”
We both fell silent as we finished grilling the steaks. Once we had carried a plate of them in, Kevin excused himself to the bathroom and was gone a long time. We had already sat down to dinner by the time he got back. His eyes looked red-rimmed, but I pretended not to notice.
We talked about everything but my cancer at dinner, which was nice. Even though this whole trip had been about telling Kevin, now that my mission had been accomplished, I looked at it as an escape, a sort of vacation from my illness. But that was only on the outside; in my head, I could never escape it for long. It always managed to invade my thoughts, even when I least expected it.
Like after dinner, when we bundled up and went back out onto the boat deck to watch the fireworks. As everyone around me “oohed” and “aahed” over the bright bursts of color, I looked up at the sky and wondered if I was seeing my last Fourth of July fireworks show. Morbid thought, I know, but it really hit me right then. I had stage IV cancer, and if my next round of tests showed that it had spread, then I was probably screwed.
No one had come right out and said it, but I had seen it in the eyes of the people I’d told, people who had more experience with cancer than I did, up until that point. Cary… Howie… and most recently, Kevin. As soon as I’d told them it was stage IV, something faded in their eyes, like the light of hope had gone dim. Everyone knew I was living on borrowed time, and there were no guarantees that I’d be alive in another year or even another month.
I had to start living my life, or what was left of it, the same way I’d made it through the last leg of the tour: one day at a time. Live moment to moment, and cherish every one.
Out on the ocean, sitting under the stars with three of my best and oldest friends, watching fireworks explode in the sky over our heads, I decided I’d picked the perfect moment to start.
***
