Goodbyes

            “It’s about Mom,” Jonah said.

            Still watching the game, Jack returned, “What about her?  Did she burn another pot roast on Sunday?”

            “Yeah.  And she’s got a brain tumor.”

            Jack whipped his head back toward Jonah.  “A what?”

            “A brain tumor.  They can’t operate on it.  Dad says she’s got a few months.”

            “To live?”

            “Yeah.”

            Jack sat back in the booth.  He looked as if someone had just hit him in the stomach with an empty beer pitcher.  “Holy shit,” he finally said.  “How long have you known?”

            “I found out on Sunday.”

            “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

            “I don’t think they’re really telling anyone.”

            No longer looking quite so shell shocked, Jack retorted, “Not even their own son?”

“Well…you know how they are.”

Jack snorted.  “Do I ever.  But only a few months…really?”

            Jonah nodded.

            “But she still has all of her hair and whatever!”

            “They’re notgoing to do chemo--it won't help.  So Mom doesn’t want it.”

            “What about Dad?”

            “He said it’s up to her.”

            “Oh, great.  He’s leaving critical life-or-death decisions up to the biggest ditz on the face of the planet,” Jack said, and grabbed his coat.  “I’m going over there.  Someone has to talk some sense into her, and it seems like I’m the only one in this family willing to do it.  I’ll see you later.”

              A couple of hours later Jack stomped back into Jonah’s living room.  “It’s amazing we were born with any brains in our head, considering the morons who conceived us,” Jack said bitterly.  “No chemo, no radiation, no nothing.  She’s just giving up.”

            “According to Dad, the doctors said it was hopeless.”

            “And since when do doctors know what the hell they’re talking about?  They were still using leeches on people like ten years ago!”

            “I don’t know about that-”

            “My point is, even if it’s a remote chance that treatment would work, isn’t a remote chance better than no chance?” Jack protested.  “I just can’t believe this.  I had no idea.”

            “Didn’t you notice she’s been acting weird lately?”

            “Who can tell?” Jack shot back.  “She’s always acting weird.  How was I supposed to know that this week it meant she had a fatal illness?”