One Last Thing Before I Go

circumstances.”
    “You’re going to die.”
    “Not yet.”
    Rich shakes his head at him, disapproving of his cavalier dismissal of medical science. If he thought about it, he’d no doubt come to the conclusion that Silver’s death would somewhat enhance his own quality of life, but after twenty years or so of saving lives, Rich doesn’t think that way.
    He is still standing in the doorway blocking the entrance, and Silver is acutely aware of their positions, on the porch, in the family, in the universe.
    “Can I see her?”
    “Which one?”
    “Both.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Either.”
    “Now is not the best time.”
    “That’s why I’m here, Rich.”
    “I know. But they’re . . . in the middle of it right now. Why don’t I have Casey call you later.”
    “I might be dead later.”
    Rich opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Silver has stumped him. Doctors can be slow like that, he finds.
    Rich looks tired, with a few more gray hairs than he had yesterday. He is supposed to be getting married in a few weeks. He is supposed to be dealing with florists and caterers and party planners or, more likely, making the right supportive noises as Denise handles the logistics. Instead, he’s dealing with a pregnant future stepdaughter, a hysterical fiancée, and now his fiancée’s somewhat unbalanced ex-husband. Silver almost feels bad for him. But then he remembers that it’s his ex-wife Rich is marrying, and his daughter he’s safeguarding from him, and he can feel the rage start to build inside of him.
    “Rich,” he says.
    “Yes, Silver.”
    “You’re a good guy. You’re sleeping with the only woman I’ve ever loved, and that makes things uncomfortable between us, because sometimes when I’m talking to you, I picture you fucking her, and I picture her making the sounds she used to make when I fucked her, and then I picture myself fucking her, and I get jealous and upset and I hope like hell that you’ve got a small dick, and that when she’s underneath you, she has to be thinking of me. I mean, you can’t have sex with someone for that many years and not, in some way, just associate them with sex in general, you know what I mean?”
    He’s gotten off point here. His brain is draining into his mouth at an alarming rate. And Rich, he looks like he’d like to punch Silver in the face, but he can’t, because, like Silver, his hands are his livelihood.
    “You need to shut up now, Silver.”
    “My point is this whole delicate dynamic we’ve been navigating like adults since you started dating Denise, it all falls apart if you start preventing me from seeing my daughter.” Silver looks him straight in the eye, to underscore the seriousness of what he’s just said. “The dynamic gets fucked.”
    “As I said, now is not a good time.”
    Be a better father. Be a better man.
A better man, Silver thinks, would come back tomorrow.
    Silver looks up at the house. “Casey!” he shouts.
    “She can’t hear you.”
    “Casey!”
    “Silver, don’t make me call the cops.”
    Be a better man
.
    Silver turns to say something to Rich when his legs suddenly buckle, and he falls against the railing. “Christ,” he says, his voice suddenly hoarse.
    “What is it?” Rich says. He steps out onto the porch, alarmed, and right at that instant Silver ducks around him and slides into the house. He catches a glimpse of Rich’s expression just before he slams the door and locks it, and he swears to God that Rich actually looks hurt.
    It takes a moment for him to get his bearings. Like all houses that have been professionally decorated, Denise’s looks cluttered, unlived-in, and, when you take in the throw pillows on the couch, the art over the fireplace, and the tasseled curtain valances, just this side of ridiculous. He leans against the front door as Rich bangs away on it, shouting his name. He is once again acutely aware of their respective positions. Yesterday he was hooked up to a heart monitor while Rich diagnosed his aneurysm. Today, he’s locked him out of his own house. The universe can be flexible like that.
    “Silver!” Rich shouts. “Open this goddamn door!”
    “Now’s not a good time,” Silver says, heading for the stairs.
    The dynamic is most definitely fucked.

CHAPTER20
    H e figures he has roughly two minutes before Rich comes in through the garage, or a back door, so he’s moving pretty quickly when he bursts into Denise’s bedroom, which scares