"We’re at the Park Diner. My dad Tommie is sitting across from me. He looks haggard, tired. His skin is pasty and washed-out. He’s not talking, so I’m not talking either, but it doesn’t matter because it’s hanging there between us.
Cancer.
Motherfucker.
“Don’t look so upset kid,” my dad finally says, “it’s going to be fine.”
I look away so he won’t notice that I’m crying and I see the painting of Icarus across the room. The painting has been there forever which means that Icarus has been falling forever as well, no respite in sight.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“I could go home and die,” my dad says, “one doctor already suggested that, or I can try this new experimental trial they are starting at Lourdes.”
I don’t say anything.
“Look bud, I’m past normal shit, its experimental or its nothing, but there’s this hot shot doctor that just moved here and he’s bringing the trial with him.”
I’m still at a loss, how am I supposed to react to something like this, especially since I have spent a significant chunk of my life hating him and hoping he would die."
2 comments:
Nice piece, though even the corporation-hater in me can't imagine a pharmaceutical company being that callous.
A pharmaceutical company? No. Never. They are all about the common good.
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