Free A Third of Me by Alan Conway

paranoid. I hope that’s all it is.
     

C H A P T E R F O U R
    N OW OR N EVER
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Brian
    Sixteen months have gone by since I was first diagnosed with chronic lymphatic leukemia. I shouldn't be all that surprised since my mother has it as well, but she's been in remission for a while now and she's feisty as ever. It started with fatigue and nosebleeds then progressed to a decrease in appetite and weight loss, then severe headaches and swelling in the lymph nodes in my arm pits and neck. My doctor had to do a bone marrow aspiration to confirm it, which was excruciatingly painful beyond any description.
    So, that's that.
    I was so pissed off at myself for not getting checked out sooner, but I'm stubborn just like everyone else in my family. It's not unbearable right now, but I feel tired all the time, which sucks because I want to go out and do things now that the Christmas season is finally here.
    My doctor is not a happy camper right now because I've refused chemotherapy or radiation treatment, but something inside me tells me to wait.
    Damon has been working at the local bank for about six months now. He likes it there, and the other employees like him, too. How could they not?
    We're doing just fine and we've been going to the gym everyday – well, almost everyday – and even took a trip to see a football game a few months back, which was amazing. I had no idea what was going on, but he explained everything and gave me a detailed history about his favorite team and I just sat there and listened to him talk above the screaming crowd, the stadium rumbling with excitement and enthusiasm.
    Lauren comes over to visit a few times each week and we usually stay in for a movie. I cook when I feel like it and Damon actually helps me out. And I think entertaining a guest brings out a side of him we've never seen before. Our lives feel like they're on track and we all ride out this wave of life together as the tide rolls in.
    Something inside me starts to wiggle around, that familiar squelch in my gut that wants even more. We need to step it up a notch. Things are good – great, in fact – but the only friends we have are each other and we keep ourselves to ourselves.
    I'm cleaning out the drawer in the nightstand and pull something I've almost forgotten about – a crumpled issue of Science of Tomorrow . I reread the article that had once flooded me with new dreams, even more impossible dreams than I've ever had. I tuck it away again, and think about it for the rest of the day.
    After lunch I call Lauren and ask her to meet down at the Bergin Cafe for a chat. Damon's still at work and I don't want him to know.
    I want this to be a surprise, and if Lauren shares my enthusiasm, we'll all be one step closer to achieving something that no one else has. Something vastly different.
    If I can keep it a secret for just a little while longer.
      
    I'm outside on the balcony when Damon comes home. It's already dark, even though it's just after five. I've been writing by porch light for a while now, and I probably should be wearing a jacket.
    He comes out, his tie undone, lighting a cigarette. Unfortunately, this has become his way of dealing with the stress that envelopes our reclusive lifestyle, and it seems like he smokes more each night, but I say nothing. I like to keep the peace.
    He sheds his fleece pullover and hands it to me without saying anything. I put it on.
    “How's the story coming?” Damon asks. I've been writing fiction from home since October. Through some connections at the paper, I've been able to sell a few short stories to reputable magazines which have helped pay the rent, and just last week I received my first advanced on a novel I've wanted to write for several years. Let's just say we're living quite comfortably at this point with some disposable income to spare.
    “So far so good,” I say. “How was work?”
    “Eh, it was work. Looks like I'll be getting a pretty sweet bonus