The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Guide #1)(78)

“Hi, I’m here to see Cash Carter,” Topher said.

The nurse typed a few words into her computer but nothing came up.

“I’m sorry, there are no patients here by that name,” she said.

“My mistake, he’s probably under Thomas Hanks,” he said.

“Oh yes, he’s in room 828,” the nurse said. “I’ll buzz you in.”

She hit a button on the counter and a large glass door gradually opened behind her. Topher’s eyes wandered around the lobby as he waited for the door. He noticed a large family sitting together in the corner with a priest. They were all crying about something and the priest seemed to be counseling them. On the other side of the lobby was another family who sat with a very old man in a wheelchair. They tried to talk with him, but the old man just stared off silently like he was stricken with Alzheimer’s.

“Excuse me?” Topher asked the nurse. “What kind of rehab is this?”

“This isn’t a rehab, it’s a hospice facility,” she said. “Now, you’re going to go through this door and make a left at the end of the hall and the room will be on your right-hand side.”

“Thanks,” he said.

As Topher followed her directions, he wondered if his friends had been right to wait in the car. What on earth was Cash doing at a hospice center? Was he visiting a sick friend or fan? If so, why would Cash have tricked them into coming? Why did he lie and say he was getting help?

Topher stepped inside room 828 but there was no sign of Cash anywhere. A very thin and frail young man was asleep in the bed but he wasn’t anyone Topher recognized. He had dark circles under his eyes and was hooked up to several machines and an IV drip. Whoever he was, he didn’t appear to have much time left. Topher quietly paced around the room as he waited for Cash to appear. He was there for twenty minutes and the actor still hadn’t shown up.

“You came.”

Topher looked to the bed and saw the patient was awake. He was staring at Topher with a weak smile and his eyes were opened just barely enough to see. He clearly knew who Topher was, but Topher couldn’t place him.

“I wasn’t sure you got my message,” the young man said softly. “I’m so glad to see you.”

It suddenly dawned on Topher who the patient was—he was in such bad shape Topher hadn’t recognized him.

“Cash?” he asked. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I took a turn for the worse last Saturday,” the actor said. “The hikers drove me to Flagstaff the night I left you. I was looking for a pharmacy when I blacked out and woke up in some hospital. I was transferred here on Monday. It was the only hospice facility nearby that had room for me.”

“But why?” Topher asked. “Are you sick?”

“I have glioblastoma,” Cash said. “That’s a fancy stage name for brain cancer.”

Topher felt like the room was spinning and he slid into a chair at the foot of the bed. He was so dizzy he held on to the seat with all his might as if he was on a roller coaster with no seat belt.

“Brain cancer?” he said in shock.

“Sorry to spring the news on you like this,” Cash said. “Shit just got real human, huh?”

“Are you just finding out about it?”

The sick actor looked away guiltily and slowly shook his head.

“In April I started getting these really bad migraines,” Cash explained. “A doctor came to the set and recommended I get a scan. We were behind in production so the producers wouldn’t give me time off to get it done. In May, after we wrapped season nine, I finally went in for an MRI. They found a tumor the size of a grape on my brain stem.”

“And… and… and did you start treatment for it?”

“My options were limited,” he said. “Surgery was risky and could have potentially damaged my verbal skills—and you know how much I like to talk, so that wasn’t going to work for me. Other treatments might have left me paralyzed or impaired my memory and that didn’t sound like any fun. The neurologist said I had a good three months left if I did nothing, so I decided to make those count instead.”

“Hold on,” Topher said, and waited a moment to ask him the question he didn’t want the answer to. “Cash, are you saying that you’re… you’re… dying?”

The actor took a deep breath before confirming it.

“Yeah,” he said.

Topher closed his eyes and went silent as he processed the news. He didn’t want to believe it was real, but so many things from the week before began making sense and the dots practically connected themselves.

“So all that bad behavior… The partying, the drinking, the smoking, the dancing, the lawbreaking… All the stuff everyone was condemning you for… That was just…”

“Me squeezing life for every last drop,” Cash said.

“And the night at the concert, the morning after the concert, the crazy mood swings, the migraine, the gummy bears, the OxyContin in your bag…”

“Just symptoms and remedies,” he said. “I told you those pills weren’t what you thought.”

It all made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier. Topher tried putting on a brave face for Cash but it was impossible to shield the devastation coursing through his body.