Scott was slower on the golf course than he'd ever been before. He waved as we let people play through a few times. I asked if he wanted to throw in the towel and head home and he refused.
"You're not getting out of it that easy. You've only got me by five strokes and I've run out of ways to fuck with your head." He joked, his voice thin and reedy.
"Well I have been working out, to get some extra yards on those drives." I laughed. We finally ended the round and made our way to the clubhouse. He tried to pass on lunch and I gave him a look.
"She's got you in on it now too?" He chuckled.
"She didn't need to get me in on anything Scott. I'm aware of how this goes. Help a buddy out and try to eat something though. I don't want to have to deal with her wrath if she finds out you skipped on lunch."
"She's determined to keep me going as long as possible." He shook his head.
"Crazy, huh? It's almost as if she were in love with you or something." I said laughing at him. We were quiet for a few minutes and I found myself unable to withhold my frustration. "Why Scott? Why did you quit? I know the chances got lower but it's not zero and I've never seen you back down from a challenge before." The frustration of the situation peaked as I witnessed his decline happening more quickly.
He sat and stared down at the table and blinked slowly. "You know what it's like to have a toothache, a bad one? Imagine your whole body feels like that, worse in fact twenty-four, seven. Even if they had gotten it into remission again I'd be so doped up I'd be living like a ghost, sort of like now, but at least this will come to an end." He didn't look up as his bowl of soup was set in front of him. I thanked the waitress. "I'll eat, but I can't taste it any more. I'll live, but I can't feel it any more, it's like living in solitary confinement." He wiped his eyes and reached for the spoon. I didn't know what to say. As much as I had started to sympathize with Jo that he was throwing in the towel, I felt for Scott. Living a life in pain and misery was no way to live.
"You're dad. How old was he?" He didn't ask about a specific event but I knew what he meant.
"Sixty-eight."
He nodded. "Your mom? How old is she?"
"Sixty-six now."
"She move on yet?"
"No Scott, I don't know if she will at this stage of the game."
"Right." He looked up at me. "Jo is thirty, truth be told I don't know what she was doing with an old goat like me."
"You're forty-one!"
"I was thirty-three, chasing a skirt, I was surprised as anyone when I caught it." He chuckled and lifted the spoon, his hand trembled.
"Stop it. You know damn well what she saw in you then and now."
"I'm not allowed a pity party with you either? I'm not allowed to bow out as gracefully as possible and allow her to have a real life, one that doesn't turn her into a nurse to an invalid? I'm not allowed to see that she can go forward, and try and live a normal life, have the family she's been itching for in recent years? What a selfish prick I've become." He looked down and took a spoonful of his soup.
"How do you think she feels? 'Oh sorry honey, I don't feel like putting up a fight I'm just going to toss in the towel, lay down and die. Better luck next time.'" I shot back under my breath.
The spoon dropped banging loudly against the bowl. Scott leaned forward and pointed his finger at me. "I have been fighting. I've been fighting it for three years, she saw, she was there, so you don't get to pull that holier-than-thou bullshit with me. You weren't there, we didn't tell anybody for a long time."
He looked up and waved the waiter down and asked for the check. He bobbed his head at me and told me he wanted to head home.
* * * * *
Scott was much weaker. He no longer had the strength for extended walks and barely had the strength to play golf the week prior though he insisted on trying. Jo said he had started a higher dose pain medication and it was running him down even further. She was nettling him to eat when he didn't want to but he did to make her happy though he admitted to me sometimes he couldn't keep it down.
It had been nearly three months since the day that he stood on the golf course and told me he was dying of cancer.
"My chances went from eighty-five percent to sixty or so, to practically zero." He'd explained that sometimes you just don't make the right roll of the dice, and even if you do once, there's no chance, hell even less chance you'll make another. Despite the doctors who told him he should keep fighting as the odds kept falling he looked into what life would be like and it was far from pretty. He'd chosen not to keep fighting and let it run its course. I wavered between thinking he was quitting and thinking about what he was going through as his body literally attacked itself in an effort to kill him.
Jo was holding it together pretty well in front of him, but confided in me about how it was tearing her up inside. Scott said that he didn't relish the idea of going into a facility but didn't want to burden Jo with taking care of him day to day as he fell apart. He sat in a wing backed chair in his bedroom one afternoon when I'd stopped by.
"You need to get me moved soon." His voice was weak. He'd lost a lot of weight, not that he ever had a lot in the first place but he went from thin to emaciated in a matter of a few weeks. Jo had gotten him to at least drink protein shakes to keep up his strength but even that was turning into a daily pitched battle. We'd let him sleep and she would come into the other room and wrap herself in my arms and cry. His doctor had given us a fairly accurate prognosis and timeline, and he had come to its end.
Scott passed away on a Sunday afternoon, after we'd left his room to let him rest.
He had many friends, of recent years most were business associates. The viewing was well attended and most of those that gave their condolences Jo was at least acquainted with. His family attended and I spoke with his parents whom I hadn't seen in years. From stories Jo had told me he had only passing contact with them over the years, no holidays together or any other gatherings had taken place. Scott's friend Alan had told me to keep an eye on Jo because he knew there would be vultures lurking about looking for an opening. I nodded and thanked him. He didn't need to tell me, Scott had warned me early on and I didn't leave Jo's side for long at any given amount of time.
