Date: Mon, 6 Mar 2017 12:34:50 -0600 From: Eric Trager Subject: It Is What It Is: Chapter 37 Please don't forget to donate to Nifty if you enjoy reading the stories! Email feedback can be sent to trager2275@gmail.com. © 2015 by Eric Trager. Yahoo group: https://groups.yahoo.com/IIWII CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Andy did as he was bidden and took a chair across the desk from Doctor Schroeder. "Um, OK... I guess I'm all ears, Doc..." "Andy, as you know, we took extra blood and sent it out for a full battery of tests..." "Just give it to me straight up, Doc. This doesn't sound good..." "Son, it isn't. Based on the results, and based on my consultation with one of the Oncologists here at Mercy, the diagnosis is Leukemia." "Wha..." "I'm sorry, Andy. The news isn't all bad, though. We got you early. You're in the Early Pre-B All stage meaning that while it was detected, it is limited, and you haven't had it long. It is the most treatable form, and responds well to pharmaceutical treatment. That's what most people call chemotherapy..." "Will I die?" "Andrew, we're all going to die someday, but as for you today, I don't think you're in any danger. I do, however, want to begin treatment right away. And I'd like to schedule an appointment with you and your dad so we can talk about it..." At this, Andy recoiled. How could he dump this on Sean when in less than a week Sean would have the entire hopes and dreams of his Coach and his team mates on his shoulders? He remembered Joe's admonition never to keep secrets from each other, but this was something totally different. It wasn't like going out to lunch with Scott Branson, or anything like that. "Doc, I'll talk to my dad tonight about this, but I can't talk to Sean about it. At least not now. Ya see, the State Championship game is this Friday and the starting Quarterback is out. Sean has to play that game and win it by himself. I can't dump this on him now... Not on top of..." Andy didn't finish as in mid- sentence he realized all the other things he was about to say weren't really any of the Doctor's business. "I see what you're saying, Andy. Let me get with the Oncologist. I can't see where it would hurt to begin treatment in a week, or ten days, but in the end, son, we have to do what we have to do... And tell Sean I said good luck." "I will, Doc. OK, I guess I better go now," Andy said understandably downcast. "I'll call in the next day, or two to set up the appointment. If you can get away from here, maybe we could have the appointment in one of the conference rooms at school so Sean doesn't get suspicious about another Doctor's appointment..." "I'd be happy to do that, Andrew. Let's shoot for Wednesday at 8:00 at the school. I'll see you there. Just send me a text to verify that we have a room we can use." "Alright, Doc. Anyway, like I said, I better go..." "Chin up, Andrew." Andy left to go back to school totally adrift emotionally. In the past couple of days, he found out that he was certain to lose his mother making him for all intents and purposes an orphan, and that he himself had a potentially life threatening disease. For all this he wished he could share it with his lover. He knew Sean would buck him up and plow through like he always did, but with everything sitting on Sean's shoulders, the rape, the twins, the State Championship that he'd have to win without Tim there was no way Andy could tell him. He felt once more like he had in the past: adrift and alone. Sure, he knew he could talk to Joe and Joe would offer sound, fatherly advice, but Andy was scared. Scared for himself, and scared for Sean. He decided there was one person he would talk to first. Ginny. He would go see her that evening. The rest of the school day went well enough for Andy. No one seemed to notice something was up as he was able to maintain his normal bearing. Sean asked, and Andy merely answered that they zeroed in on the cause of his anemia and he'd be getting some supplemental medication to take in the next few days. He breathed a sigh of relief that Sean seemed to buy that answer, and he satisfied himself that he hadn't `really' lied about it. After dinner, Andy excused himself saying he had to run over to Scott Branson's to work on a project they had. Arriving at Ginny's he rang the bell. "Well, Andy, my little doll! What brings you by? C'mon in! I was just gonna turn the thermostat up, but now that you're here I'll warm up for sure. I'll getcha a cold one!" Andy followed Ginny into her comfortable living room and sat down on the sofa opposite her imposing leather wingback chair. "Here you go, Andy. Now what can I do for you? You look like someone died..." "I might die, Ginny... I have Leukemia... I just found out..." Ginny did a double take, composed herself, and took a sip of her Scotch. She rose from her chair, sat next to Andy on the sofa putting her arm around him and pulling him in. Andy broke down crying. Tears flowed down his face like a river. Ginny stroked Andy's hair, murmured in soothing tones handing him a box of Kleenex. Once Andy was done crying, Ginny took his chin in her hand, turned his face up to look at hers, saying, "Andy, sweetie, Old Ginny's gonna tell ya a little story here..." She rose, refreshed her Scotch, sat back down and continued. "This happened about 35 years ago. I haven't thought about it much in years. Anyway, back then I hadn't been feeling well for a while so I made a Doctor's appointment and went in. They told me I had cervical cancer, and that I'd had it for some time. I think that's probably why my husband and I never conceived any children. Anyway, they said the cancer had metastasized and was in my lymph system, too. Now, in those days the treatments weren't what they are now..." "Wow!" Andy said, wide eyed, still sniffling. "Yeah, wow... So, they went ahead and scheduled me for emergency surgery at Wisconsin General in Madison. They did a complete hysterectomy and put me on basically what amounts to nuclear poison to get rid of the lymphatic cancer. I literally almost died. And it gets better..." "I sure hope so," Andy said, slightly smiling at this point. "Well, as you can see, it didn't kill me. But on the day I had my surgery, when I woke up I wondered why my husband hadn't come to see me. I figured he'd be by later, but he didn't come. George Dickson came instead. He said he was glad to see me, but he had some news. The night before while I was still under from the surgery my husband had a heart attack and died. So, I had to recover from my own stuff at the same time I lost my husband. That's right: I woke up finding out I'd lost my ovaries, my uterus and my husband. My whole life changed. A complete one-eighty. It was tough. But I got through it." "Wow, I'm really sorry, Ginny..." "Yeah, it was pretty bad. My point in telling you this is that you'll get better, Andy. I see that you will. You trust Old Ginny, now..." "I will, but I'm afraid what it's gonna do to Sean when he finds out." "You mean he doesn't know?" "How can I tell him? There was the rape, the babies, Tim got shot and Sean has to win the Championship game by himself. How can I tell him now?" "You fucking tell him, Mister Man. That boy is tough. He can handle it. He needs to know. You need him to know. He'll be just fine. It won't throw him. I know that. He loves you more than you will ever know. You tell him tonight the minute you get home. That's an order." Andy actually gave an infinitesimal laugh at Ginny's last remark. "You promise me, Ginny?" "Andy, my dear, sweet Andy... I told you guys when you came here that if you ever needed anything you come see me. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. Yes. You tell him, and you tell him tonight. How would you feel if the shoe were on the other foot?" "Yeah, you're right... I guess I better go talk to Sean-o now..." "You do that. You trust me on this. And then you talk to that cute little Mexican brother of yours, too. He looks up to you, you know... I understand he and Kathleen Kennedy are quite the pair these days," Ginny said with a wink. "Yeah, I guess they are. I'm worried about that, though. I mean, with her sister and her fucking dad and all..." "You leave that to me," Ginny said with a stony look on her face. "Andy, 35 years ago, I was pretty much just a Realtor with a nice husband and a nice life and no clue what was ahead of me. When my guts got ripped out and my husband died, George let me know what I inherited. I had to learn fast, but my whole life consisted of having to learn fast. I managed to do it. I always thought that stupid crest my husband had with the Prince of Wales motto `Ich Dien' on it was just a piece of kitsch. It ain't. It's on the wall in my office to remind me of what I have to do. Do you know what it means?" "No..." "It means `I Serve.' I had to learn in an eyeblink what I inherited, and what I had to do. I had to face down a few folks around town who didn't take me seriously. And I had to do it fast and make it stick. So, you don't worry about if what I'm telling you is right, or not. It is. And if Johhny runs into any shit from Bill Kennedy, you let me know. I'll eat him for fucking lunch. Now, about you... You will get better, Andy, but you go home now and you talk to Sean. You sit him down and you let him know the deal, OK? And I want you both to call me when you are done talking. And I mean tonight. You got me, Andrew?" "I got you..." "OK, I will... I just hope he's not..." "Andy! Shutup!" Ginny cut him off holding her index finger up. "Did you hear that?" "Hear what..." "I heard someone at the front door! Follow me!" Ginny grabbed Andy's hand and flew down the hallway to her office. "Andy!" Ginny whispered, "get behind the door. If there's a break in, I want it on video! Get over there now and shut up!" Andy did as he was told. The lights in the office were already on, so he simply readied his iPhone to video. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds went by when suddenly Andy heard steps coming down the hall toward Ginny's office. Craftily, Ginny sat in her black leather, high-back desk chair and turned it around with the back facing the door. She was invisible behind the shield of her chair, but she could see the reflection of the doorway in the window behind the desk. A shape entered the office, a shape which Ginny intently monitored in the window. One, two, three... Ginny wheeled her chair around pointing a pistol at the shape. "Stop right fucking there... Looking for something, maybe?" "What the fuck!" the shape gasped. "You're in London!" "That's what you thought, isn't it..." Ginny said dryly. "Have a seat in the chair! NOW!" Ginny motioned with her pistol to the chair on the other side of her desk. "Andy, get out from behind the door and call the Police. NOW!" The shape turned around with a shocked face to see Andy with his iPhone clearly taking a video. "Put that fuckin' phone down, kid..." The shape said. "Kiss my ass," was Andy's reply. Andy moved to the phone on Ginny's desk while keeping the iPhone trained on the shape, who started to move toward Andy. "Don't fucking move a muscle or I'll blow your Goddamn balls off! And don't open your mouth or I'll blow your head off!" Ginny bellowed. "You're gonna sit your ass right where you are until the Cops get here and then you can talk to them all you want. And don't try me, either!" Ginny then cocked the gun and pointed it directly at the shape's crotch. "Or you'll end up like Tupac Shakur did when he turned into One-pac!" After what seemed to be an excruciatingly long time even though it was no more than five minutes a Police Cruiser pulled on the driveway disgorging two uniformed Officers. "Let `em in, Andy," Ginny commanded, her pistol still cocked and still trained on the shape. Andy flew down the hall, flung the front door open and directed the Officers inside. "Right this way, Officers! Down the hall and on the right!" Entering Ginny's office, the Officers were a bit puzzled at what they saw. "What's going on, ma'am?" one of them asked Ginny. "I was sitting here having a conversation with the young man you just met. I heard a noise outside, and we came in here. This guy came in the house and came right down the hall into this room. I had enough time to get my pistol out and hold him until you got here." "Do you have a permit to carry the gun, ma'am? "I do, but I'm inside my own home, so that's a moot point, isn't it... I mean, I'll get it for you if you want, but..." "That won't be necessary, ma'am..." "OK, I'm gonna need some information here," The second Officer said. He took Andy's name and address, asked Andy what he was doing there and then moved on to Ginny, established that it was indeed her home. When he got to the shape, things changed. "Name, sir..." "I'm not saying anything without my Lawyer present!" The Officer proceeded to handcuff the shape and removed his wallet from his pants. "Says here your name is William Kennedy and you live at 629 East Saint Lawrence Avenue. That correct?" "I told you, not until my Lawyer's here!" "Sir, your Lawyer isn't going to come here. This house belongs to the lady over there, and it's a house, not a Law Office. We'll do our business downtown." "Do you know who I am?!" Kennedy barked. "Yeah, it says here you're William Kennedy, and..." "GODDAMNIT!" Kennedy tried to stand up and began to physically struggle with an Officer at which point he was tased by the other Officers. "Sorry, ma'am, but he's an awfully large man and we just don't want any trouble here in your home. We're going to take him downtown now. We may have further questions for you." "That's fine, and here's my Lawyer's card. George Dickson. He lives right across the street. I believe he's also Andy here's Lawyer, too." "Yes, he's is our family Attorney," Andy agreed. "Very well," the Officer said then turning to Bill Kennedy. "You are under arrest for trespassing, breaking and entering, disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent..." The Officers bundled the still half-tased, stumbling Bill Kennedy off into the back seat of the Cruiser, heading off to Police Headquarters. "Well, Andy, was that enough excitement for one night?" Ginny asked. Andy simply mouthed, "Fuuuuuuck!" at which point Ginny broke up laughing. "Go home, Andy, and talk to Sean. If you boys need to, you can come back tonight and see me." "OK, I'll go. And thanks..." Andy rose, gave Ginny a hug and headed back to the Alamo. Once home, Sean spied him coming in. "Hey, Brown Eyes! How's Scott?" "Um, Sean-o, we need to talk..." "OK, so talk..." "Not here, let's go upstairs." One upstairs, Sean motioned Andy to begin. "I lied. I didn't go to Scott's. I went to Ginny's house..." "Why? I mean, what's up at Ginny's?" Andy burst into tears. "Sean-o, when I was at the Doctor, they told me I have Leukemia. I didn't want to tell you with everything going on. The babies and the Championship and Dix and everything else... I didn't wanna tell ya until it was all over, or at least the game. Ginny told me I had to tell you. And then when I was there, Bill Kennedy broke into her house and the Cops came and I don't know what I'm gonna fucking do! I'm sick! I might die! Sean-o, please don't hate me, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Sean-o, I'm sor..." Sean strode over to his lover enveloping him in a gentle hug, stroking his hair. He whispered into Andy's ear, "I knew something was wrong, I just didn't know what. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll do what I have to do, but this is about you, not me. What do we need to do? Please, tell me what the Doctor said..." Andy totally broke down, sobbing and quaking in Sean's arms. Sean continued to stroke his hair and his back whispering that everything would be alright. After he calmed down, and wiped the snot from his face, Andy simply looked at Sean. He then told the whole story about his visit to the Doctor and why he went to Ginny's house, how worried he was, and that he didn't want to be a burden to anyone. Sean rightly deduced that now was not the time for a conversation about the matter and simply said, "I'm going to all of your Doctor's appointments with you from now on, OK?" "OK... I'm such a dildo..." "Yeah, but you're my dildo..." Sean said as me kissed Andy softly on the cheek. "When do you wanna tell dad?" "Not tonight. I've had enough for one day. We can do it tomorrow..." Fine, you just text him at work tomorrow and let him know we need to have a family meeting at dinner. That's all. No need to make a big production out of it..." "I love you, Sean-o. Please make love to me?" "You'll never have to ask me twice..." Sean smiled as he turned out the bedroom light. The next morning Sean stopped by Coach Slater's office. "Well, Mister Wyman! Here to torture me this morning, are you?" "Not at all, Coach. I just have an idea is all..." "Why am I not surprised... OK, talk." "Well, you know, Dix is out of commission because he was shot, but last night Andy came to me and he's been diagnosed with Leukemia. I understand they caught it early and he's expected to pull through, but what do you think about at practice today if you suggested to the team that we dedicate this game to Dix and to Andy..." "Consider it done, Mister Wyman. And how are you doing with everything that's going on? Sometimes I think you're like the old Peanuts character Pig Pen. The one that carries his own dust cloud around with him. Not that you deserve it because you don't, but wearing my Coach's hat I just need to know where your head's at, son." "You don't worry about me, Coach. I'll produce a victory, you can bank on that. My whole life has been a preparation for this game. I won't let you down, and I won't let the team down." "Very well. You may go, Mister Wyman. I'm going to have the front office page Andy and get him in here so he's not blind-sided this afternoon at practice." "Thanks, Coach," Sean said as he left. Andy was notified in his first hour class that Coach Slater wanted to see him. After class, he made his way to Coach's office. "Sit down, Mister Churchill..." Once Andy was seated, albeit with a confused look on his face, Coach began, "Mister Churchill, I had an interesting conversation with Mister Wyman earlier this morning. I understand that you've recently been diagnosed with an illness and I just want to know if there's anything, anything at all, that I can do for you." "I don't think so, Coach. I mean, I'll have to start chemotherapy and I don't think you can help me with that..." Unfortunately I cannot, that is true. I want you to know that Mister Wyman came to see me with an idea. He wants the Championship game to be dedicated to you and to Mister Dickson. I called you in so that when I make the announcement at today's practice you would not be taken by surprise. What say you?" "I, uh, I'm, well, I mean... Are you sure? I mean, I'm not a player, or anything. I can't help the team win... I'm not sure I deserve it..." "Mister Churchill, you have more courage than any man on the field with what you've been through. We're a team and we all have our roles to play. You've helped our team win every single game. Don't ever forget that, son. I never stepped one foot on the field this year, either, got me? I'd be honored if you accept Mister Wyman's idea. And I think just by accepting you'd help the team." "OK, I guess if you put it that way I don't mind..." "Very well, Mister Churchill. You are dismissed and I'll see you at practice." "Thanks, Coach..." "Gentlemen, gather round!" Coach Slater called out at the beginning of practice. "Guys, I want to talk to you a little bit about the game. I believe we will win. And that's not just bullshit. It's real. I want to talk to you guys about dedicating this game. There's two special guys on this team who deserve recognition. They are Mister Dickson and Mister Churchill. As you all know, Mister Dickson is injured. He was shot. But we all know what Mister Dickson has meant to this team this year. He's led our Offense to the State Championship game. And for that alone he deserves our dedication. Now, this morning I got notice that Mister Churchill in the last couple of days was diagnosed with Leukemia. We all know of Mister Churchill's selflessness and courage. He's been there for us every day hopping around in a leg cast from a beating that could have cost him his life, and now this. Gentlemen, I'd like this team to dedicate this game, this Championship, to two of the finest I've ever seen: Tim Dickson and Andy Churchill." For what seemed like several minutes the team roared their approval. "Excellent, Gentlemen. We're going to do a light workout and then we're going to watch some film of the Red Rockets. I'm going to hand out our game plan and I'd like your written input tomorrow before your first classes. Any adjustments I deem appropriate I will make, and we will discuss." GAME DAY Two sleek coach busses wheeled smartly out of the parking lot at Craig High School bound for Camp Randall Stadium in Madison a bit less than an hour away. The busses were silent, each guy studying the final game plan one last time, mentally preparing, and a few saying prayers. Once the Madison skyline, dominated by the State Capitol building, came in to view, the guys looked up and took a collective deep breath. At the stadium, they exited the coaches making their way to the locker room. The locker room was quiet as well. Coach Slater called his team to order. "Men, this is it. This is the end of the line. It's now, or never. I know you can do it. I know it with all my heart, and you do, too. That is all." "Coach?" Cunns called out. "Yes, Mister Cunningham?" "I'd like to say something..." "Permission granted." "Guys, were maybe half an hour in front of the biggest game of our lives. Out of all the guys and all the teams in the state we're here, they're not. And let's face it, we're never gonna pass this way again. This game is dedicated to Cass and Dix. And we're gonna win it. For them. Because, guys, we've done everything all season long as a team. We've won all season long as a team. As one. And right now everyone grab hands and come together as a team, because, guys, either we win this Championship as a team, or... We. Will. Die. As individuals. Now! What are we gonna do!" The deafening thunder emanating from the Cougar locker room was both heard and felt inside the Neenah locker room. On the way out to the field, Coach Slater followed his team which was led by Andy and Tim. On the ground, he spied a piece of paper. END CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN