The next few days were probably the worst few of my life, but I wouldn't know. I don't remember very much of what happened after the doctor looked right at me and said, "Jack, you have cancer." I know that Peter started yelling questions at her and that she was calmly answering them and trying to chill him out. I know that after she left, Peter started talking to me. Maybe he was trying to reassure me; I don't know. I don't think I answered him and if I did, I don't remember what I said.
I know that the next morning, Peter took me back to the hotel and packed my stuff for me. I know that while he was doing that, the other four Downtowners came in and talked to me, but I couldn't tell you a thing they said or did. I know that Peter and I got in a cab and went to the airport and took a plane to Richmond, Virginia. I know that from there we took another cab to my house in Athens. I know I somehow made it into the house and someone took my things upstairs to my room. I know my family was all over me, crying and talking and asking Peter questions.
I knew all sorts of things were going on around me. Maybe I was even being a part of it all, but I doubt it. I don't remember any of the details. I don't remember saying or hearing a single thing. All I can remember about those next two days is thinking, over and over, "This can't be happening. I'm only seventeen. This can't be happening. This isn't happening."
The day I came home, I think I threw myself down on the couch and slept. Or maybe I just stared at the ceiling. Either way, it was one of those sensory-deprived states.
My brother came in at one point. I remember looking up and seeing his face, just like mine. His mouth was moving. I wish I'd been paying attention, because it was probably one of the nicest things he'd ever say to me. But I couldn't focus.
All day and all night, I just kind of lay there, not thinking anything but, "This can't be real. This can't be happening. This isn't real."
I slept there that night. Normally, my mom would have made me go up to my room, but she just left me alone for once. The next morning, Peter came in and started going on and on about something or other. I think he said something like, "Is that cool with you? Would that be all right?" near the end of the 'conversation,' and I must have given him some kind of answer because he messed up my hair and left.
My memories don't come back clearly until that night, around seven o'clock. I was alone in the living room, having not moved from the couch. The TV was going, but I don't know who turned it on. I was staring blankly at it, not really registering anything I was seeing, until Peter's face appeared on the screen.
What happened next was weird. It was like waking up. I snapped out of my walking dead phase and stared right at the television, really seeing it for the first time. The whole world came back into focus. I was listening again and thinking again and reacting again.
MTV. I shook my head a little to try and clear away the last cobwebs. For some reason or the other, MTV was showing a picture of Downtown. Then the screen switched to show the MTV News logo and the words, "Special Bulletin."
Peter's face appeared again. He and Casey, Brad, and Tony were all sitting on these stools in a place I vaguely recognized. I think Carson Daly interviewed us in that room once. With them was an MTV news guy I'd never seen before. Down in the corner of the screen was the word, 'Live.' What was going on here?
News Guy turned to the camera with a serious look and said, "Hello, everyone, I'm Ivan Cristofferson and I'm here with Peter McArthur, Brad Cavenhill, Casey Little, and Tony North of Downtown. They have some important news they need to share. Um, the guys called us up yesterday and asked if they could come down, so I'm just going to turn it over to them. Guys?"
They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to start. Peter shook his head and stared at the floor, rubbing one arm. Casey and Tony both nodded at Brad, who took a deep breath and began.
"Well, um, we wanted to get this out in the open as soon as possible. We didn't want the rumors to get going, so... You can see we're one Downtown member short today. Um, Jack isn't here because..." He stopped and looked incredibly lost. Tony took over.
"Jack went home to Virginia yesterday morning," he said. "And we wanted everyone to know why he did and why we have to cancel the rest of our North American tour."
"You're canceling the tour?" Ivan repeated, sounding like the rookie reporter that he obviously was. "But why?"
"Because Jack's sick."
I sat up and stared at the screen.
"Two days ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia," Tony continued. His voice was shaking a little. The camera cut to shown Peter, who had taken off his cap and was running his thumb along the brim. He was biting his lip. He's never once shut his mouth for more than thirty seconds during an interview. We're always interrupting him so we can get a word in edgewise. Now he was just sitting there looking like he was about to fall apart.
"No," I whispered. "No, this isn't real."
"He's gone home to be treated and we aren't going to continue the tour without him," Tony said.
"Oh, my God," Ivan said. "Obviously, you guys are really affected by this. Are you coping okay?"
What a stupid question. The idiot. If I'd been there, Brad would've had to pinch me to keep me from laughing. He wouldn't have been able to stop Peter.
Casey answered the question, but I was listening. The camera was showing Peter again. He was wiping his eyes.
I stood up and turned off the TV. This wasn't happening. I sank back down on the couch. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I was only seventeen.
I was only seventeen and I had cancer.
And that's when it really hit me. I mean, that's when the news really sank in. The doctor had told me. I hadn't believed her, not really. I'd thought of it as another one of my nightmares, imagining I'd wake up if I just waited long enough.
This wasn't a dream, I realized. This was real. This was really happening to me and I really had to deal with it.
"Holy shit." I didn't want to cry. That wasn't what guys did. That was no way to act at seventeen years old, I wasn't a little kid anymore for Christ's sake, but the lump was growing in my throat. I pushed my fingertips against my eyes very hard. I wasn't going to cry. I had to face this like a man. I had to-
*-keep crying! Keep on crying like a little girl and you'll never get out of that clos-*
-be strong. I had to keep it together. There was no reason to cry. Get over it, Sheridan. Grow up. Keep it together.
My fingertips were wet. It was harder to breathe.
"Jack?"
I looked up, hoping I'd gotten all the traces of tears away from my eyes.
It was Ben. He was standing in the doorway, watching me with a searching look.
I just stared at him, my eyes red, my breath hitched. I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I wanted him to wake me up, tell me it was all wrong, all a dream, but I knew he wasn't going to.
He just looked right back at me. I thought for a split second he was going to tease me for sitting around and starting to cry all by myself. Instead, he came over and sat next to me.
"This is going to sound like a really stupid question, but are you all right?"
I shook my head. He looked right at me, my twin, and he understood.
I was tired and I was shocked and most of all, I was scared. I was terrified. I didn't know what was going to happen to me next. I didn't know if I was even going to survive. I'd never been more scared in my entire life. And Ben knew all that. Somehow, I knew that he knew. I knew that he understood.
That's about when I lost it. I collapsed over my knees, my face buried in my arms. And then I cried, really cried hard. I sobbed, my chest aching and my throat burning and tears running all over my shirtsleeves and jeans and face and hands. A moment later, I felt Ben's arm around my shoulders. Ben and I have never been huggers. Not with each other anyway and for half a second I didn't know what to do. Then I grabbed him and he hugged me and I cried all over him, for a long time. I cried until I felt empty and every part of my body was exhausted, until there was nothing left.
I know that the next morning, Peter took me back to the hotel and packed my stuff for me. I know that while he was doing that, the other four Downtowners came in and talked to me, but I couldn't tell you a thing they said or did. I know that Peter and I got in a cab and went to the airport and took a plane to Richmond, Virginia. I know that from there we took another cab to my house in Athens. I know I somehow made it into the house and someone took my things upstairs to my room. I know my family was all over me, crying and talking and asking Peter questions.
I knew all sorts of things were going on around me. Maybe I was even being a part of it all, but I doubt it. I don't remember any of the details. I don't remember saying or hearing a single thing. All I can remember about those next two days is thinking, over and over, "This can't be happening. I'm only seventeen. This can't be happening. This isn't happening."
The day I came home, I think I threw myself down on the couch and slept. Or maybe I just stared at the ceiling. Either way, it was one of those sensory-deprived states.
My brother came in at one point. I remember looking up and seeing his face, just like mine. His mouth was moving. I wish I'd been paying attention, because it was probably one of the nicest things he'd ever say to me. But I couldn't focus.
All day and all night, I just kind of lay there, not thinking anything but, "This can't be real. This can't be happening. This isn't real."
I slept there that night. Normally, my mom would have made me go up to my room, but she just left me alone for once. The next morning, Peter came in and started going on and on about something or other. I think he said something like, "Is that cool with you? Would that be all right?" near the end of the 'conversation,' and I must have given him some kind of answer because he messed up my hair and left.
My memories don't come back clearly until that night, around seven o'clock. I was alone in the living room, having not moved from the couch. The TV was going, but I don't know who turned it on. I was staring blankly at it, not really registering anything I was seeing, until Peter's face appeared on the screen.
What happened next was weird. It was like waking up. I snapped out of my walking dead phase and stared right at the television, really seeing it for the first time. The whole world came back into focus. I was listening again and thinking again and reacting again.
MTV. I shook my head a little to try and clear away the last cobwebs. For some reason or the other, MTV was showing a picture of Downtown. Then the screen switched to show the MTV News logo and the words, "Special Bulletin."
Peter's face appeared again. He and Casey, Brad, and Tony were all sitting on these stools in a place I vaguely recognized. I think Carson Daly interviewed us in that room once. With them was an MTV news guy I'd never seen before. Down in the corner of the screen was the word, 'Live.' What was going on here?
News Guy turned to the camera with a serious look and said, "Hello, everyone, I'm Ivan Cristofferson and I'm here with Peter McArthur, Brad Cavenhill, Casey Little, and Tony North of Downtown. They have some important news they need to share. Um, the guys called us up yesterday and asked if they could come down, so I'm just going to turn it over to them. Guys?"
They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to start. Peter shook his head and stared at the floor, rubbing one arm. Casey and Tony both nodded at Brad, who took a deep breath and began.
"Well, um, we wanted to get this out in the open as soon as possible. We didn't want the rumors to get going, so... You can see we're one Downtown member short today. Um, Jack isn't here because..." He stopped and looked incredibly lost. Tony took over.
"Jack went home to Virginia yesterday morning," he said. "And we wanted everyone to know why he did and why we have to cancel the rest of our North American tour."
"You're canceling the tour?" Ivan repeated, sounding like the rookie reporter that he obviously was. "But why?"
"Because Jack's sick."
I sat up and stared at the screen.
"Two days ago, he was diagnosed with leukemia," Tony continued. His voice was shaking a little. The camera cut to shown Peter, who had taken off his cap and was running his thumb along the brim. He was biting his lip. He's never once shut his mouth for more than thirty seconds during an interview. We're always interrupting him so we can get a word in edgewise. Now he was just sitting there looking like he was about to fall apart.
"No," I whispered. "No, this isn't real."
"He's gone home to be treated and we aren't going to continue the tour without him," Tony said.
"Oh, my God," Ivan said. "Obviously, you guys are really affected by this. Are you coping okay?"
What a stupid question. The idiot. If I'd been there, Brad would've had to pinch me to keep me from laughing. He wouldn't have been able to stop Peter.
Casey answered the question, but I was listening. The camera was showing Peter again. He was wiping his eyes.
I stood up and turned off the TV. This wasn't happening. I sank back down on the couch. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I was only seventeen.
I was only seventeen and I had cancer.
And that's when it really hit me. I mean, that's when the news really sank in. The doctor had told me. I hadn't believed her, not really. I'd thought of it as another one of my nightmares, imagining I'd wake up if I just waited long enough.
This wasn't a dream, I realized. This was real. This was really happening to me and I really had to deal with it.
"Holy shit." I didn't want to cry. That wasn't what guys did. That was no way to act at seventeen years old, I wasn't a little kid anymore for Christ's sake, but the lump was growing in my throat. I pushed my fingertips against my eyes very hard. I wasn't going to cry. I had to face this like a man. I had to-
*-keep crying! Keep on crying like a little girl and you'll never get out of that clos-*
-be strong. I had to keep it together. There was no reason to cry. Get over it, Sheridan. Grow up. Keep it together.
My fingertips were wet. It was harder to breathe.
"Jack?"
I looked up, hoping I'd gotten all the traces of tears away from my eyes.
It was Ben. He was standing in the doorway, watching me with a searching look.
I just stared at him, my eyes red, my breath hitched. I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I wanted him to wake me up, tell me it was all wrong, all a dream, but I knew he wasn't going to.
He just looked right back at me. I thought for a split second he was going to tease me for sitting around and starting to cry all by myself. Instead, he came over and sat next to me.
"This is going to sound like a really stupid question, but are you all right?"
I shook my head. He looked right at me, my twin, and he understood.
I was tired and I was shocked and most of all, I was scared. I was terrified. I didn't know what was going to happen to me next. I didn't know if I was even going to survive. I'd never been more scared in my entire life. And Ben knew all that. Somehow, I knew that he knew. I knew that he understood.
That's about when I lost it. I collapsed over my knees, my face buried in my arms. And then I cried, really cried hard. I sobbed, my chest aching and my throat burning and tears running all over my shirtsleeves and jeans and face and hands. A moment later, I felt Ben's arm around my shoulders. Ben and I have never been huggers. Not with each other anyway and for half a second I didn't know what to do. Then I grabbed him and he hugged me and I cried all over him, for a long time. I cried until I felt empty and every part of my body was exhausted, until there was nothing left.