Stealing The Show (Such Sweet Sorrow Trilogy, Book One)

2

"Lewis! Freddie!" Paps says. "Freddie, it's good to see you! You need a haircut!" 

"And you, Sir, need more hair! Let's trade?" says Shoe as he goes over and shakes Paps's hand. Paps is the only person who calls Shoe by his real name, Fred. Frederick, actually. Frederick Shoemaker. Anyway, they have this long battle of wit going on, and neither one of them will ever win it. They really like each other a lot--I think "Freddie" sees Paps as an extra grandparent who's also extra cool. 

But my dad is having a hard time holding his smile. I can tell something's wrong. 

"What are you doing up?" I ask. "What's with the champagne?" 

"It's a reunion!" says Paps. "Welcome back, cancer!" 

He's holding up his glass in a toast. This should be hilarious. If this were anybody else's grandfather, anybody else except for about the most deeply loved person I have in my life, this would be hilarious. 

But it's not. It's so not. 

~~~ 

Shoe takes a knee in true Shakespearian flair. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says.  

Dad is looking at the bubbles in his champagne. 

I'm looking for an answer. Paps has beaten cancer like three times. He had skin cancer twice and then he had colon cancer. Every time he beat it. He beat it like it was his punk-ass bitch. He was in and out of the hospital so fast that it might as well have been a cold. 

So he can beat it again. That's my theory.  

But I think the theory has got to be all wrong. I know because of the way my dad can't look up.  

I say it anyway, because what else is there to say?  

"You've beaten cancer before." 

Paps takes a sip of his champagne. "Well," he says, "those were the glory days."  

Shoe, who has a flair for the dramatic, who would rather be on stage than anywhere, who can make anybody laugh just by standing there, who played Iago in the Drama Club's play of Othello but got riotous laughter the whole time, can't take the real drama going on here. It's fine if it's only a play. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm going to let you be alone with your family," he says and he stands up. He walks past me and gives me a hug with about ten back slaps. I can't even make my arms move. I just stand there and let myself get wrapped up. Then we all stay still and quiet. We hear Shoe's truck start up and drive off. We hear "The Joker" by the Steve Miller Band blasting out of his speakers and fading away as he drives off. 

"Ha! That was easier than I thought!" says Paps. "I figured there would be all this wailing and crying. Why aren't you rolling around on the floor and ripping your hair out, Lewis, my boy?" 

"Paps, this isn't funny!" I say. "I mean, you have cancer. You've got to check into treatment." 

My dad looks up at me, finally. "He's not." 

"What? Yes he is." 

"No sir, I'm not. I'm drinking to my health," Paps says. "While I got it. But I'm not going to fight it this time." 

"Bullshit!" I say.  

"It's no use, son," my dad says. I look at him and I realize that he hasn't taken one sip of the champagne yet. "He won't fight it. I've tried to talk some sense into him all evening." 

"Why didn't you tell me? I was just out at a stupid playground. I should've been here. We have to fight this." 

"You two dunderheads, don't you get it? There's nothing to fight. It's too far. It's going to win."