One Last Thing Before I Go

to him that what he has failed to impart through wisdom, he may well have imparted through stupidity.
    “You’re right,” he says. “I think things would have turned out differently if I were one of those people.”
    “I’m just like you.”
    “You’re nothing like me.”
    “No, I am. I keep waiting for the universe to decide things for me, and the thing is, the universe has better things to do.”
    “When did you get so smart?”
    She shrugs. “Broken home. You pick shit up.”
    It occurs to him that there is something wrong with his soup. He takes another few spoonfuls, concentrating. It takes him a minute, but he figures it out. He can’t taste it. He leans forward and takes a spoonful of Casey’s soup. He eats a piece of the garlic knots the waiter had put out with the soup. Nothing. He can taste nothing.
    “What is it?” Casey says, alarmed.
    He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
    He is dying. Bit by bit. He can feel it happening inside of him, small things inside of him starting to call it a day.
    “Dad?”
    She calls him Dad now, thoughtlessly. And it never fails to bring a lump to his throat.
    “What, baby?”
    “Are you going to get that?”
    “What?”
    “Your phone. It’s ringing.”
    He almost never carries his phone, which almost never rings. He reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. Sure enough, it’s ringing, on a pitch close to the ringing in his ears, which is why he didn’t hear it. He looks at the screen and sees a number he doesn’t recognize.
    “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Casey says.
    “I don’t know who it is.”
    “You push the button and you find out.”
    Silver nods and picks up the call. “Hello?”
    “I like you too,” Lily says.
    * * *
    And then he is in the hospital, sitting in a small room with Jack and Oliver. Oliver is on a leather recliner, the IV needle in his arm delivering his last chemo treatment.
    “I still can’t believe you’ve been coming here all this time without us,” Jack says.
    “Sad Jack hates to be left out of anything,” Oliver says, winking at Silver.
    “Fuck you, Cancer Boy,” Jack says.
    They’ve been calling him Sad Jack ever since Sad Todd left the building, and it drives him crazy.
    “When’s the surgery?” Silver asks him.
    “Next week,” Oliver says. “You know, you could have yours then too, and we could get ourselves a private recovery suite upstairs.”
    They both look at him expectantly. He isn’t ready to talk about this yet. “Denise is getting married tonight,” he says.
    “Oh, shit,” Jack says.
    “The wedding day of an ex-wife is always traumatic,” Oliver says.
    “Even your third ex-wife?”
    “Fuck off, Sad Jack.”
    “Keep calling me that and I’ll put an air bubble in your drip.”
    “Are you going to the wedding?” Oliver says.
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “What do you mean, why not?” Jack says. “Did you go watch your many ex-wives get married?”
    “No, but they all hated me.”
    “I can’t imagine why.”
    “I’m not invited,” Silver says.
    They both look at him, and the way they do it makes him feel he has revealed more than he meant to.
    “There are plenty of reasons to stay away from your ex-wife’s wedding,” Jack says. “But that is not one of them.”
    Oliver nods sagely. “Sad Jack is right.”
    “Sad Jack is going to jam that chemo bag up your ass and make your shit glow.”
    Silver laughs. He feels a surge of warmth for these men who have kept him company these last lonely years.
    There is a noise behind them, the clearing of a throat. They turn to see Oliver’s son, Tobey, standing in the doorway.
    “Hey,” Tobey says. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
    The expression on Oliver’s face is something they’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
    * * *
    And then Silver is opening the door to his apartment to find his father standing there in his best suit.
    “Come on,” Ruben says. “Get dressed.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The wedding. I can’t be late.”
    “I’m not going to the wedding,” Silver says.
    “Of course you are. One of every life-cycle event. You agreed to it.”
    “I’m not invited, Dad.”
    “That’s never stopped us before.”
    “This is different.”
    “No, it’s not,” Ruben says, leaning against the doorframe. “If anything, she’ll be happy to see you.”
    “I think your understanding of women is fundamentally flawed.”
    “Says the divorced man to