Forgive Me Father For I Have Loved (5 page)

“Josh!” Dane called out, waving to him. With a smile, Josh walked to the table and took a seat. Dane gave his friend the once over.

What in the world? He doesn’t look right...

Dane looked the man directly in the eye and hugged him tightly, hardly able to hide his concern. The rain seeped through Josh’s dark brown leather jacket down to his striped blue and white Polo shirt. But the man was entirely too frail, as if he’d evaporated, leaving only a shell and a memory of what he once was. He stood back and again scanned the man from head to toe. Josh’s face appeared distended, the muscle tone lost. When Dane had first spotted him crossing the street, he’d hoped somehow that the downpour was distorting his friend’s image through the window, that the man had simply lost a few pounds, nothing too severe. No, this was something more than the results of a low-carb diet.

The once attractive, six foot two fellow high school football star was a mere shadow of his former self. His straight, sandy brown hair clung to his forehead, and the glimmer that once shone in his mischievous golden eyes was gone. Cracked, dry lips—near bleeding—stood out in a pale face, tinged with blue. Dane braced himself for a story he didn’t want to hear for this was his friend, his
brother,
the man who knew everything in the world about him...

Both men took their seats. Dane sat down slowly, his eyes still focused on the man before him.

“Nice to see you, Dane. So good to see you, bro.”

Dane coughed into his fist and looked around—anywhere but at his friend. His heart sank. He considered himself a bit of an intuitive—it helped with the job, and he realized that this dinner with a long-time friend was going to hurt him to his core.

“Yes,” Dane said quietly as he sat back in his seat, resigned. “Good to see you too, Josh. Uh, you’ve lost some weight.” He decided to take the bull by the horns and not dilly-dally any longer. Besides, it wasn’t his style. There was no need to drag it out, to have drinks first, the house salad, and cut into juicy steaks with blue cheese crumbles, while laughing about old times, and ignore the skinny, emaciated elephant in the room.

“Yeah, uh,” Josh looked down, rubbing long, thin fingers across the maroon leather-bound menu, “I’ve wanted to speak to you about that...”

“We talk every week on the phone..
.every
week,” Dane said in almost a whisper. He attempted to dismiss the bubble of anger growing inside the pit of his stomach, seeping into his tone, the one that clawed at his throat—the one that threatened to scream,
Why in the hell didn’t you tell me anything a long time ago?!

He hadn’t laid eyes on Josh in over six months, and at that time, the man was still strapping—a perfect, walking and talking bill of health. Typically, they’d see each other every three to four months, one of them would fly to meet the other, but Josh’s schedule had been hectic as of late, or Dane would have a conflict in the timetable as well. Now, he looked at him and simply wondered where the truth began and the cover-up ended. He felt deceived. Turning away from that dismal sight, he tried not to judge the man before he even had a chance to talk.

“I...I know, Dane. That’s why I’m here actually—to speak to you about what has been going on.”

“So, there is no business trip? You aren’t here on business?” Dane asked, taking a sip of his iced water. Most of the ice in his glass had melted, and he felt suddenly parched, dry, as if someone had poured flour on his tongue, thick and heavy, that would turn anything he could possibly say at that moment into gelatinous gravy.

“Well.” Josh clasped his hands together nervously and shifted his body on the bar seat. “Yes, I had some business to take care of, but it could’ve waited. I escalated the visit.”

Escalated. Like this is dire. Oh, dear God...

A waiter with choppy blond hair and a pierced eyebrow came up to the table, speaking with a pronounced lisp.

“...Broccoli and cheese and potato and bacon...and then there is the clam chowder made fresh daily...”

Outside the window, the rain fell hard like bullets onto the street. Cars and passersby moved in a blur to and fro—a symphony of activity carefully orchestrated around the rain. Yes, the rain, like tears from the heavens, tears of a God who is crying for His children…. Someone paid a meter while holding a teetering dark umbrella with the word ‘Paris’ printed on it in bold, elegant calligraphy, while another person screamed ‘Shit!’ as the relentless shower drenched the poor guy from head to toe.

“Dane?” Josh called out, tearing him away from his wayward thoughts. “Are you ready to order?” The waiter and his thin friend were looking at him, waiting.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll just have the Chicken Caesar salad, please.” He handed his menu to the man and looked back at Josh who was now rubbing the back of his nape and staring contemplatively into space.

“Just tell me, Josh,” he said. The words tumbled out, unbidden, and he waited for acknowledgement.

“Okay. Here it is.” Josh sighed as he planted his hands on the table. “I have cancer, lung cancer.”

Dane looked at him for a moment while his legs got heavy, as if they’d been dipped in cement in preparation for him to be thrown off a plank, into icy
Michigan river waters. His heart cracked, then he tried to summon all his strength just so he could get through the darn conversation. He felt light headed, as if he may pass out right then and there, but he needed to keep his cool, not fall apart. He’d heard of people getting sick from cancer all the time, and even visited them and prayed over their beds, as well as gave them and their families words of encouragement as the end drew near. But looking at Josh was like looking at himself—like looking at a torn page from his most favorite book, and he refused to believe it could be ripped away and burned with little to no regard. After all, this particular page, and book, meant
everything
to him.

“You don’t smoke anymore. You haven’t smoked in years...just...God.” Dane’s head dropped as he stared down at his lap, feeling destroyed by the implications of Josh’s admission. Barely, he held a slippery grip on his reserve and composure.

“I know, and... imagine my own surprise. It started about four months ago.” Their eyes met, saying unspoken things to one another, so much more than their mouths ever would. “I was...feeling tired. Margie insisted I go to the doctor. I figured,” he shrugged, “it was just the stress from work, you know, the new position. Then, I started coughing a lot, coughing up blood, and I knew I had to see someone. It... doesn’t look good, Dane. I needed to
see
you, to tell you face to face. You’re my best friend. This isn’t something I could email ya or tell you over the phone.”

“But
four
months, man? You’ve known all this time.” Dane tempered himself, the screaming in his head becoming so loud, he had to tell it to shut-up. It would be so easy to go off, to point a finger at Josh and let him have it for his blatant disregard, but it wouldn’t change anything, so why even bother?

“No, I was in treatment, not believing what was happening to me. It took me awhile to even fully accept the diagnosis. I wanted to tell you, ‘Hey man! I beat cancer.’” He laughed, a sad, sorry laugh that left his mouth sounding like a sickly little white ghost then disappeared into thin air. “But I know now that won’t happen. I am here against doctor’s orders. I haven’t quit my job, either.” He sighed. “I tried to fight but...”

“Please, don’t.” Dane put his hand up. “We can’t afford to think that way, to just give up. With God all things are possible, Josh. The body and mind, when working in agreement, can do some phenomenal things, but if you ever want to see those possibilities, you must keep fighting!” Dane caught the glances from people nearby as his voice rose. He didn’t care; his heart had accepted the words, and now he just wanted to fix the problem, make it right. He was the rock...he had to make it all go away, make it all right. Reaching across the pub table, he tightly grasped Josh’s wrist.

“Dane, I need you to—”

“We will pray right here, right now, we will ask for—”

“Dane, damn it!” Josh snatched his hand away angrily, his voice, though weakened, ragged with irritation and hoarse undertones. “Don’t you think I’ve been praying?!”

He hastily turned away and stared at the people milling about, eating, enjoying themselves…carefree. The laughter and chatter seemed to mock the somber mood hanging over them, and the invisible murderer called grief went unnoticed as it slinked about, under the radar, delivering packages of pulsating pain.

That pain was beginning to eat him alive, right there front and center, starting with his bleeding heart. Josh’s eyes welled with moisture and tears cascaded down his sunken cheeks. He was angry with God—Dane was familiar with the look. So many that stood before him during mass had the same mask on. One of disappointment and unbelievable resentment that drove them to the depths of hatred for the Heavenly Father, for leaving them in a world that was destroying them, among people who simply didn’t give a damn.

“I’m going to pray for you, because I know God can heal you,” Dane said calmly as their food arrived. He nodded at the waiter, clasped his hands and turned back to his friend, who was now slumped in his chair, his arms loosely by his side, as if his tenacity and will to live had melted right then and there like a prayer candle burned down to its pitiful blackened wick.

“You can pray all you want,” Josh said gruffly as he looked down at his plate. “It won’t change anything, Dane.” He shook his head, his tone still fueled with fury, but Dane knew it wasn’t anger toward
him;
but toward God and the world, in general. Josh admitted he was exhausted from fighting the tormenting emotions, the back-to-back doctor appointments and everything else that this downward spiral to hell entailed.

“This is the reality, Dane. Take it or leave it. I’m in stage 3B, the damn chemo and radiation is making me even sicker! I am going to die from this. It could be tonight, it could be months from now, but I’m going to die sooner than I’d like. I’ve gotten past the shock, I’m angry as hell, but,” he gulped, “I’ve accepted it. My affairs are in order,” he said matter-of-factly before coughing harshly into his napkin. His face reddened from the exertion and pain that twisted his expression with each outburst.

“God is stronger than cancer.”

Josh rolled his eyes dramatically.

“You’ve always seen the glass half full, Dane. You were the class clown, the calm guy all rolled into one. You kept order in our group of misfits.” He managed a genuine smile. “But I’m sorry, Dane, that won’t change anything this time. No jokes will make this disease run away from my body...no prayers, resilience, none of that will change one...damn...thing. I had to accept it, so I can live the little bit of life I have left. I just...I just want to enjoy this time with my family and friends...that’s why I’m here.”

“Well, you do what you want,” Dane offered coolly. “I’m trusting in God, Josh. It isn’t over until it’s over. You didn’t believe you’d ever get the job you have now—you got it. You didn’t believe Margie would agree to marry you—she did. You didn’t think your sister would survive that car accident, but she did. I don’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes and I don’t pretend to know, but I do know that God heals and I believe that with all my being. God believes in
you
, even when you have all but given up, and when God has faith in us, then that is enough.”

Josh gave a weak smile and nodded as he picked at his plate full of creamy mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and grilled lime chicken. Dane cast him a reassuring glance, then bowed his head and prayed over their food. He finished the prayer, but kept his eyes closed for a few moments as he deliberated over what had transpired. He could feel Josh watching him. He knew the man probably hadn’t prayed in weeks and had all but waved the white flag on his life having nothing else to say to God, except a certain four letter word.

Josh, you may have given up, but I haven’t. I can’t lose you. God wouldn’t let that happen right now. It’s not your time to go. Margie just had another baby...you got promoted. You’re my best friend, the only person besides my family who didn’t treat me like a freak when I became a priest. The only person who I could tell anything to, the only one who truly understands me. No, this is far from over. I need you, bro...

~***~

Two weeks later...

The ducks fluffed their downy black feathers, making sudden ripples in the placid lake surface, disturbing the green moss around them. Tiny white fish swam below them, searching for the perfect meal. Blues and pinks streaked across the sky, blending together like flowing home-spun salt water taffy. The air smelled of summer, teasing his senses with the pending season, giving a preview of what was to come. Dane looked over to his right, smiling at an elderly couple holding hands, their slow bodies moving as one. Wrapped in a ribbed, long white sweater, her thin, shoulder length silver hair blowing freely in the breeze, the woman held on to her aging husband’s arm, smiling faintly out at the flowing freshwater. Her face embodied peace, and an appreciation for every moment they had together. Such a beautiful sight, like a painting on Nature’s wall that fit seamlessly into the gorgeous day. Dane needed the reprieve, and he loved Mies Park, which was the picture-perfect setting to unwind and release.