Jeff, Karma, and Me by Jere' M. Fishback

Author:Jere' M. Fishback [Fishback, Jere' M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, new adult, gay, bi, absent parent, mental illness, campground, Florida, Indiana, college students, multiple partners, coming out
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

On the fourth Sunday in April, Jeff phoned me from Bloomington, and like always the sound of his voice made my heart skip a beat.

Initially, we spoke about our classes at school and what we’d done since we last talked. I told Jeff about the redfish I’d caught in Ochlocknee Bay, and how Mason had even dined on the fillets with me, eschewing for once his vegetarian diet. Jeff reminded me of the fish he’d caught down at Fort De Soto, back in March. Then we talked about my counseling sessions with Patricia Bigelow and the letter I’d written to my mother.

“I’d like to read it sometime,” Jeff said, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, you can. In fact, I want you to.”

“Do you think the counseling helps?”

“I do. Of course, I’m still hurting about Brian. It’s only been a couple of months since he…you know. But I’m not feeling quite as sad as I did back in March. Talking about my feelings with Patricia eases things, but what about you? Have you spoken to your parents since last Sunday?”

“Actually, I called them last night, but we didn’t talk about the gay business. I had something more important to discuss with them.”

“What was that?”

Jeff cleared his throat. “I saw a doctor at the IU infirmary on Thursday.”

“What for?”

“Ever since I returned from Florida, I’ve felt tired no matter how much I sleep. A couple of times, I woke up in the middle of the night all sweaty. And remember that bump on my neck, the one you noticed down in Florida?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Now I have bumps in my armpits too.”

Uh-oh.

“Are you sick?”

“Maybe. The doctor I saw at the infirmary didn’t know, but he referred me to a specialist at the IU teaching hospital in Indianapolis. I have an appointment there next Thursday afternoon.”

“What kind of specialist?”

“An oncologist—a cancer doctor.”

My stomach clenched. “Cancer?”

“Don’t worry, it might be something as simple as an infection they can clear up with antibiotics. Or it could be mononucleosis—a lot of guys our age come down with it.”

“But why a cancer doctor? I don’t understand.”

“There’s a possibility it could be something worse, a disease called Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

I fingered my phone while my brain buzzed like a hornet’s nest. Jeff might have cancer? How could it be? He already had enough trouble on his plate, dealing with his parents’ reaction to his sexuality. The last thing he needed was a health crisis.

“Don’t panic,” Jeff said. “Like I told you, it’s probably something less serious, but they need to rule out Hodgkin’s as a part of diagnosing what’s wrong with me. Understand?”

Aye-yi-yi…

“I guess,” I said, “but promise you’ll call me after your appointment. I want to know what’s going on as soon as you do.”

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