Page 7 of Letting Go at 40

She’ll be his strength in the near future. He’s the love of her life.

And I have a decision to make about my own role among them in the next year.

+ + +

When Ben finally announces his diagnosis and the purpose of our two-week visit, it’s only a few days before our friend-time together concludes. Hearing him explain his prognosis to everyone else does not make it easier to hear.

My head remains lowered as Zack questions Ben about medical care and the sudden decision to move to Lakeside Cottage permanently.

“And I don’t want the best medical care. I want the best life,” Ben tacks this explanation on to something else he’s been saying. His words are a muddle in my mind. “I want to spend my time in a place that makes me happy. I want to come home.”

Best life. Makes me happy. Home.

Like an unending carousel, the phrases go round and round in my head.

Best life. Makes me happy. Home.

I don’t have any of these things. Ben is about to lose all of them.

Logan speaks next. As my roommate freshman year, Logan was a goofy guy, with a big body and a larger heart. Women found him to be a teddy bear; the kind you cuddle, not have sex with. He asks Ben about the kids and their knowledge of his condition. My own thoughts leap to Lynlee, my three-year old daughter. By most standards, including my own, I’m a shit father. I’ve tried. God knows, I’ve tried to be better, but when you get involved with the wrong woman, she can make your life a living hell. She can also keep you from your own child.

“I want you to stick together as friends and help Anna if she needs it,” Ben says, pulling my thoughts back to the moment. I stare at him, watching him with such intensity, as if willing him to live. As if I can telepathically remove the cancer from his body. I do not want him to die.

“Ben,” Anna whispers beside him, and her warning tone is soft compared to the harsh statement she gave me.

I won’t need you.

The message was received loud and clear, but Ben feels differently. He hasn’t mentioned again his request for me specifically to watch over his family. He gives us all a blanket statement here, but his gaze shifts to me briefly after speaking.

“I wanted to spend one last time being us and acting as if we’d never grow old . . . together. I just wanted to hang out and forget.” Ben is speaking to Logan, answering another question I haven’t registered.

Forget, forget, forget becomes my new mantra. Although there is no forgetting this fucking news. This blasphemous curse on one of the best people I know. Cancer, fuck you!

My heart rate is rising as is the tension in the room. Voices are growing more intense. Logan turns on Autumn, Ben’s younger sister, after having spent most of his nights secretly sleeping with her. We all know what they’ve been up to, though.

Zack, ever the serious one, and the lawyer in the group, is growing more agitated with the logistics of moving and medical care. “What’s next?”

“We just live.” Ben entwines his fingers with Anna’s, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing them.

“Pretend nothing’s wrong?” Zack’s tone expresses his outrage. “How can you ignore this?”

“I’m not ignoring it. I’m just choosing to embrace what I have left before it literally eats me alive.” Ben chuckles, but I fail to find any humor in his comment.

Abruptly, I stand and head to the bar area just off the kitchen. The space doubles as an outdoor entrance from the flagstone patio on the back of the house and a pathway to a den used by the kids. My hands shake as I scoop ice into a glass. The overly generous pour from a bottle of scotch glugs. The sound is an imitation of how quickly I plan to down this drink.

“Bring me one of those,” Logan hollers, although he really shouldn’t touch the hard stuff with his diabetes.

“Make it three,” Zack adds.

I pour additional glasses after swallowing down my first drink. Tucking the bottle under my armpit, I collect four crystal containers. When I turn back toward the sitting area which is part of the large open concept kitchen, Ben is devouring his wife with a kiss that turns my dick semi-hard. This is not the time or the place to lust after her, but the response is a visceral need to expend the anxiety building inside me.

I need to go to town and find a woman to fuck. I’m the playboy in the group. No one will be surprised that I have a one-night stand. What would surprise them all is how empty I’d feel the morning after. The hollowness that fills me moments after a bad decision which always seems like a good choice right before it happens.

Anna pats Ben’s chest and walks out of the room, and I circle the end of one couch. Two identical sofas fill the space, resting at a perfect ninety-degree angle from each other.

“I’ll drink yours if you want,” I say to Ben, handing him his glass.

“I’m counting on it,” Ben mutters to the liquid inside the crystal. His words feel prophetic of deeper meaning.