His Reverie (Reverie #1)(3)
“But your food…”
“Fucking tell me what’s wrong!” I slam my hand on the table, and the plates, glasses and silverware rattle enough to cause the couple sitting across from us to turn and stare. I glare at them back. My meanest, hardest stare until they finally look away.
Guess I learned something useful when I was locked up.
“I have cancer,” she says, the words rushing out of her, like she said one word instead of three. Ihavecancer.
I blink once. Twice. The waitress approaches our table with white rags clutched in each hand but I wave her away. She doesn’t hesitate, scurrying away from our table like her shoes are on fire. “Cancer?” The word comes out a croak, my throat sandpaper dry.
Mom nods, her expression resolute. “Terminal, Nicky. I’m…I’m filled with tumors. They’re all too risky to remove.”
“What?” I blink again. Terminal. Tumors. Too risky. It’s all a jumble and makes no sense. “Can’t you do some sort of treatment? Chemo or whatever?” Isn’t that normal? How bad can it be? Did this happen because she smoked? God, she should’ve stopped sooner. Here I am, thinking all about myself, and Mom is sitting there with f**king cancer.
“No. It’s no use. The cancer has spread into my organs and my lymph nodes. The doctors are afraid it’s too late. So I’ve decided whatever happens, I’m going to live. And when I die, I want to do it on my terms.” She smiles, the sight of it like an arrow to my already breaking heart. “And I am dying. I-I don’t know how much longer I might have.”
I say nothing, just sit there as my brain tries to compute what she’s saying, the spilled chocolate milk still swimming in my plate, the food settling in my gut like a hard, ugly reminder.
Nothing in this world is perfect. I learned that long ago. But this? This was just…wrong.
Scary.
“We’ll make the best of it,” I vow to her, my voice quiet, my thoughts scattered all over the place. “However long you have is going to be the best time of your life. I promise.”
She reaches across the table and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Such a good boy, Nicky. You always try and take care of me.”
Not good enough. Not while I’ve been in jail for almost a year.
“I'm gonna take care of you. Now and forever.” I pull her hand to my mouth and give her knuckles a kiss. “I figure you have at least a few years right?”
She doesn’t answer.
Mom had less than two months. I got out of jail April 26th. She died June 6th. It was like once she told me she had cancer, her body shut down methodically. One day after the next, she just broke down. Like the lights shutting off in a giant skyscraper, one floor at a time, until finally she was just…dark. Empty.
Gone.
2
Believe: to have faith in.
June 23rd
From the moment I got out of jail, life has delivered me nothing but endless shit. Mom has cancer. I can’t find a job. Mom dies. None of my old friends will talk to me. The only friend who wants to talk to me is the one who almost ruined my life so forget that f**ker.
No matter how much it hurts, I have to forget him.
Finally though, it’s looking up. Just when I thought I’d have to give up the apartment Mom and I lived in because I couldn't make rent, I get a job.
Working for a crazy man.
Yeah, he’s not really crazy. He’s actually pretty smart since he has all these people snowed. They believe every word he says, listening to him with rapt attention. They open up their wallets and give him a crap ton of money too. I guess I should admire the guy for being so convincing.
But it all feels fake. What he says. How he looks. The way he acts. The convict that still lingers in me recognizes a smooth liar when I see one and I’ve met plenty. Some might even say I’m one of them.
I’m not though. Not really.
The Reverend Harold Hale is my boss. He of the Flock of the Lambs cable network, the current most influential televangelist around. The guy is freaking famous and rich as…sin. Yeah, I said it. So sue me.
Actually I better watch what I think and say because I had to sign a huge privacy disclosure where I’m not allowed to breathe a word of what I see and hear while working for Reverend Hale or else he’ll bring litigation against my ass so fast I won’t even see it coming.
Why would he hire an ex-convict like me? I’m officially not a convict at all but we all know that’s what people see when they look at me. When they hear my name. I have a reputation that was blasted all over the local media and it follows me everywhere I go in this town.
It will for the rest of my life. I’m innocent but I may as well have done it, what with the way people treat me. I need to escape. Get out of this place and never look back. But I have no money. That’s why I need the job. I save up enough I can leave this town.
That’s my plan. I’m determined to follow through.
Lucky for me, Reverend Hale is on a current crusade to save lost souls. That’s what the guy who initially interviewed me said. When I protested that I’m not a lost soul, that I never committed the crime I’d been accused of, the dude just nodded and closed his eyes for a brief moment, like he was saying a prayer for me or something.
He probably was. Kinda tripped me out but I let it slide. I need the job. I need the income. I probably needed the prayers too.