The Last Hurrah

 From the moment he lowered his cup of coffee to the table, the noise in the packed roadside diner slowed until it was completely silent. Seconds of anticipation felt like minutes as Andy, the man sitting across from Douglas, folded his hands in front of him and took a deep breath.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

Douglas, fork hovering over his breakfast scramble, set the utensil against the table and nodded.

“Now we get to it,” he replied. “Didn’t take as long as I was expecting.”

“What do you mean?”

Douglas shrugged.

“You invite me on this random road trip in the early morning hours, with no real explanation of where we’re going or why. I figured you wouldn’t tell me until we were over the state line into Nebraska, but I’m glad you didn’t wait that long.”

“You knew I was hiding something? And you still came along?”

“Yes,” Douglas said. “You’re my best friend, why wouldn’t I?”

“God-” Andy stammered. “Doug, you’re too trusting sometimes.”

“And you know it, so tell me: why did you invite the one guy who would never turn you down on this little trek? Where are we going?”

Andy hesitated, his hands fidgeting. Douglas then noticed Andy’s plate, how the food on it had hardly been touched. Suddenly, the pieces connected in his mind. Douglas gave a nod and his eyes lowered to his own half-empty plate.

“How long?”

“How long have I known?” Andy asked. “Or how long do I have left?”

“Either.”

“The diagnosis came about two weeks ago.”

“And?”

“It-” Andy gulped. “-well, it could have been better.”

“How long?”

“They didn’t give me an exact number, but they suggested I better have my affairs in order by the start of the new year.”

“The new-?” Douglas gasped. “Christ, Andy- it’s August.”

Andy nodded.

“How did all of this happen?”

“All those nights of heavy drinking in college, that’s how. All of those days spent working in the steel mill after graduation. I was inhaling toxins day after day, and my liver was ill prepared to help keep things clean. That’s what the doctor believes led to a mass forming in my lower bowels, and what caused it to accelerate to the point that it had already spread to other parts by the time they found it.”

Douglas blinked, his mouth agape.

“Well,” he said. “Now I see why we’re going across the country.”

“Eliza already knows we’re coming,” Andy explained. “It’s not right for me to spend the rest of my days across the country from my kids- from my grandkids either.”

“You’ve told her already?”

Andy fell silent at first, then said:

“She already knows we’re coming, just not why.”

“So, it’s not just a coincidence you invited me.”

“No, Doug; this was when I was going to tell you.”

“You could have done that without the road trip.”

“Not properly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember every summer we were in college?” Andy asked. “All those spur of the moment trips we took out of state, just because we could?”

Douglas cracked a smile.

“That weekend up in Detroit.”

“That week over in Toronto.”

“Not to ruin this with numbers, but wasn’t Eliza born nine months after that?”

“No, ten; the Toronto trip is why we were out of condoms a month later.”

Douglas snickered.

“So, that’s why we’re out here?” he asked. “One last hurrah before the end?”

“Some hurrah, eh?”

Douglas pushed his plate away, then folded his arms in front of him.

“Are you gonna tell Eliza right when we get there?”

“Soon as I get the chance, yes. I don’t want to tell her in front of Dave and the kids.”

“She won’t take it well.”

“She doesn’t have a choice.”

“But you do,” Douglas replied. “Pardon me for saying this, Andy, but you’ve never been one to just accept the odds. You’ve fought against the odds your whole life-”

“-and that’s why I’m so tired, Doug. I’ve fought way too much to get what I have, and all I know is I want to go out peacefully and on my terms.”

Douglas didn’t reply.

“I want to go quietly, with my family in my life, in the warmth of the California sun. Not in a city like Branson, with nothing but an empty apartment and a gravestone where my wife is buried. And I don’t want to make the trip there in an empty car, but-”

Andy cleared his throat.

“I won’t blame you for wanting to head back home, Doug, especially now that you know the truth. Our last hurrah should be because we want it, not because I ambushed you with a deadline.”

“Is Eliza expecting us right away?”

“I-” Andy shrugged. “Maybe? I didn’t give her an exact time frame.”

“Then we could easily take a few days longer than expected.”

“Doug, what are you plotting?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying to remember what there is to see in Nebraska.”

“Nothing, it’s Nebraska.”

Douglas shrugged.

“Then maybe we’re going the wrong way?” he asked. “Not too late, we could still turn up north and start heading for the Dakotas.”

“What’s in the Dakotas that you want to see so bad?”

“Mount Rushmore.”

“Hardly sounds exciting to me.”

“Okay, then forget going north. Let’s go south. We could backtrack into Tennessee and gallivant around the Smoky Mountains.”

“Is this your way of telling me I don’t have to take this trip alone?”

“It’s my way of telling you that it’s not much of a road trip if we never hit a tourist trap along the way. So, which direction sounds better? North or South?”

Andy shrugged.

“I’m good with either.”

Douglas reached into his shirt pocket and fished out a quarter.

“Heads, we go north; tails, south.”

“Flip it.”

In a quick motion, Douglas flipped the quarter into the air and narrowly caught it again before slapping it against his forearm.

“Last chance to speak up,” he warned.

“I’m letting the quarter speak for me, so move your arm already-”

Douglas grinned as he lifted his hand and saw George Washington’s profile.

“North it is,” he said.

“Is it too late to vote now?”

“You had your chance, and the quarter spoke for you.”

Douglas returned the quarter to his pocket.

“We’d better get back on the road, then.”

Andy leaned forward onto the table as Douglas flagged down the waitress on the other side of the diner.

“Doug?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”