Dear John(86)

Tim smiled. “That’s kind of you to say. A lot of people get frightened.”

“Not me,” I said, shaking my head. “I know I could take him.”

Remarkably, he laughed, although it seemed to take a lot out of him.

“I’m sure you could,” he said. “Alan’s gentle. Probably too gentle. He won’t even swat flies.”

I nodded, recognizing that all this small talk was just his way of making me feel more comfortable. It wasn’t working.

“When did you find out?”

“A year ago. A mole on the back of my calf started to itch, and when I scratched at it, it started to bleed. Of course, I didn’t think much of it then, until it bled again the next time I scratched at it. Six months ago, I went to the doctor. That was on a Friday. I had surgery on Saturday and started interferon on Monday. Now, I’m here.”

“You’ve been in the hospital all this time?”

“No. I’m here only off and on. Usually, interferon is done on an outpatient basis, but me and the interferon don’t get along. I don’t tolerate it that well, so now they do it here. In case I get too sick and become dehydrated. Like I did yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I am, too.”

I looked around the room, my eyes landing on a cheaply framed bedside photo of Tim and Savannah standing with their arms around Alan. “How’s Savannah holding up?” I asked.

“Like you’d expect.” Tim traced a crease in his hospital sheet with his free hand. “She’s been great. Not only with me, but with the ranch, too. She’s had to handle everything lately, but she never complains about it. And whenever she’s around me, she tries to be strong. She keeps telling me that it’s all going to work out.” He formed the ghost of a smile. “Half the time, I even believe her.”

When I didn’t respond, he struggled to sit up higher in the bed. He winced, but the pain passed, and he became himself again. “Savannah told me you had dinner at the ranch last night.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’ll bet she was glad to see you. I know she’s always felt bad that it ended the way it did, and so did I. I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t.” I raised my hands. “It’s okay.”

He formed a wry grin. “You’re only saying that because I’m sick, and we both know it. If I was healthy, you’d probably want to break my nose again.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, and though he laughed again, this time I could hear the sound of sickness in it.

“I deserve it,” he said, oblivious to my thoughts. “I know you might not believe it, but I feel bad about what happened. I know you two really cared about each other.”

I leaned forward, propping myself on my elbows. “Water under the bridge,” I said.

I didn’t believe it, and he didn’t believe me when I said it. But it was enough for both of us to put it to rest. “What brought you here? After all this time?”

“My dad passed away,” I said. “Last week.”

Despite his condition, his face reflected genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry, John. I know how much he meant to you. Was it sudden?”

“At the end, it always is. But he’d been sick for a while.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier.”

I found myself wondering whether he was referring just to me or to Savannah and Alan as well.

“Savannah told me you lost both your parents.”

“A car accident,” he said, drawing out the words. “It was . . . unbelievable. We’d just had dinner with them a couple of nights before, and the next thing you know, I’m making arrangements for their funerals. It still doesn’t seem real. Whenever I’m at home, I keep expecting to see my mom in the kitchen or my dad puttering around the garden.” He hesitated, and I knew he was replaying those images. At last he shook his head. “Did that happen to you? When you were home?”

“Every single minute.”

He leaned his head back. “I guess it’s been a rough couple of years for both of us. It’s enough to test your faith.”

“Even for you?”

He gave a halfhearted grin. “I said test. I didn’t say that it ended it.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would have.”

I heard a nurse’s voice approaching, and though I thought she was going to enter, she passed by on her way to another room.

“I’m glad you came to see Savannah,” he said. “I know it sounds trite considering all that you two have been through, but she needs a friend right now.”

My throat was tight. “Yeah,” was all I could think to say.