21
Months passed.Autumn became winter, and Wes and Art’s plans for their wedding came together, elements ranging from catering and clothes to a war between their friends about how they would handle bestpersons.
Love.
For the first time in Art’s life, he was truly in love, and he knew what it meant, especially in the way the feeling affected every aspect of his life as he and Wes continued weaving their lives together. It was not the great struggle it had once been with Kirk or Michael or Timmy. It wasn’t pain and heartache and a constant arm-wrestling match to see who would win the battle. It was compromise and willingness to transform, to intertwine their worlds. It was knowing the difference between getting by the best he could and looking forward to each day, savoring the time he shared, not just with Wes, but with everyone he encountered, because through Wes, he saw the beauty in so many more things. Through Wes, he found hope. His world had expanded, not only to include his fiancé, but also Wes’s dear family, who had welcomed him into the fold without question, Justin even forgiving him for the D that, as Art repeatedly reminded him, was all his own damnedfault.
On a chilly January morning, a nurse fetched Art from the waiting room and brought him into the doctor’s office. He sat on the patient table, kicking his feet like some sort of schoolboy, primarily because of some late-morning bed time he and Wes had enjoyed before he headed over to hisappointment.
“How’s it going, Bernie?” Art asked the doctor as heentered.
“Good, good.” Bernie walked in front of Art and asked, “How are you feelingtoday?”
“Justfine.”
“I appreciate you following up with those scans. I was a little worried about those blood tests we ran last time, especially with how they’d changed from even just a few monthsago.”
“Bernie, you’re starting to concern me,” Art said. When the doctor had initially suggested they run the tests due to some markers for anemia, it had sounded like standard procedure. Art had been subjected to all sorts of scans and tests, especially the older he got. This or that would be off, and everything would come back negative, without concern, so it just seemed like any othervisit.
In some ways, he almost felt like there might have been some divine force working things out on his and Wes’s behalf. Although, deep down, despite how much he hoped it was all some error, he could tell by Bernie’s expression that wasn’t thecase.
“I saw the results from your colonoscopy, and the on-site oncologist, Dr. Williams, confirmed there’s a growth. At this point, I’m going to refer you to Williams to discuss the results of the biopsy. He’ll likely have you perform a few more tests, a CT and PET scan at least, to ensure it hasn’t spread or metastasized to another part of your body. Williams will help you with determining the best course of action, be that surgery or chemo orradiation.”
Art could hardly process the words Bernie was saying. It was all happening so fast, far too fast. He wanted to stop Bernie and tell him he must’ve been mistaken. But as he reflected on friends and acquaintances over the years, many who had endured the same fate, he knew very well that this was a natural part of life for many. He had seen a variety of fates at cancer’s hands, and it took many forms, but he didn’t know of any who had iteasy.
“Bernie, just be real with me,” Art pleaded. “How concerning isit?”
“I would have to exercise more due diligence before giving you an official answer about that, and Williams will be able to explain this all in more detail. As your friend, though, I can tell you the best-case scenario for a tumor this size… It’ll betricky.”
That was what Art needed tohear.
Bernie returned to his official position on Art’s condition, working to ease his concern with what Art was sure he told most of his patients, some standard script about procedures and next steps. The euphoric state he’d been in prior to his appointment had vanished, replaced withimpassiveness.
At some point in Bernie’s continuing conversation with himself, as he added disclaimers and disclosures, Bernie asked if Art understood all he’dsaid.
“Yes, yes,” Art said, feeling numb, paralyzed. Despite his affirmation, he hadn’t been able to process much of what hadtranspired.
It wasn’t real. How could itbe?
He had gone so long simply going through the motions in life, without the passion and conviction he’d found with Wes, and when it seemed that life had finally handed him this magnificent gift, it found a way to quickly pry it from him. In moments like these, he believed in a deity—a cruel, twisted deity ready to snatch away anything good in hisworld.
He pulled out his phone, considering texting or calling Wes to tell him, but he couldn’t find the strength or the will. It reminded him of Becca and Mike and the pain Wes had experienced in watching them go. It killed Art to think that he too would have that same fate, slowly deteriorating before Wes’seyes.
He wandered out of the clinic, through the path to the courtyard. He hardly paid attention as he walked and walked. There were things to do, people to tell, but he wanted a moment on his own to take in everything he’d heard. He wasn’t even intending to select any path, but sure enough, he chose the same one he and Wes had tread all those times before. The one that led out to the pond in thewoods.
In the middle of his walk, his phone rang. He wanted peace and to be left alone, but it was Wes. He couldn’t ignore him. He had to tellhim.
“Hello,” was all he could force past his lips as he answered thephone.
“Hey, Art,” Wes said. “I thought we could hit up Margie’s this afternoon. If you want, I can invite the guys, but I figured it’d be kind of nice if it was just the two ofus.”
“Oh…”
Tellhim.
Art couldn’t. Not like that. He wasn’t ready. It wasn’t fair. He could hardly even accept it was true, and even worse, the thought of disturbing Wes with the news, of seeing his pain, broke Art’sheart.
“I’m on a little walk right now. I…um…needed amoment.”
