3ft Left 02 (2015/05) | Page 14

The Climb by Theo Kogod The woman dropped the charges against him, but Cassie still kicked him out. “When do you think you want to schedule to come back in for more tests?” the doctor asked. Reid told himself it wasn’t his fault. He made excuses. He drank. But he couldn’t forget what he’d done, or what people were saying about him, and he couldn’t remember how things got this way. “I can’t. My insurance won’t cover it,” Reid told her, and bit back of desperation he tasted in those words. He picked up the phone, and called her again. She picked up this time. It was only his third time calling. “What is it, Reid? What could you possibly have to say now?” Cassie snapped. “I—“ Reid stammered. “Just, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” “Yeah? You’ve told me. Listen, Reid, stop calling me, okay? We’re done, and you need some serious help.” He opened his mouth to respond, but then the line clicked. Maybe it really was over. Her words echoed in his head. Help? Maybe he did need help. And so he made a call he’d been putting off for far too long. “Cancer.” The word struck him like a guillotine. Reid barely heard the doctor as she kept talking, only vaguely aware of the technical words she kept repeating and then dumbing down for him. She said some things about spatial awareness, vision and memory being affected, told him speaking would become more difficult if they didn’t “act fast” and “handle it immediately.” He couldn’t “handle it”—now, or ever. “This really isn’t something you want to wait on. You’ve already delayed coming in too long as is,” she insisted. “Yeah? Well, tell that to my provider. I’ve already got more bills than I can pay,” Reid said, and turned toward the door. However, he didn’t leave, nor did he really stay. She convinced him to listen to what she said, and he did, or tried to, but he was already gone and they both knew it. That night, he sat up in bed staring at the worn page of an old trade paperback and reading the same inscrutable lines again and again, trying to take his mind off all the things he wasn’t going to miss. He’d lost his wife and his job within a month of each other. Not that the job was much. Reid had never enjoyed working in sales. The numbers on his paychecks never seemed to equal the number of indignities he suffered earning them. When he’d been made a manager, it just meant the company expected him to spend more time doing things he hated but kept paying him far less than he deemed fair. When his headaches started up, they didn’t want him taking off, but the headaches worsened, and he had trouble thinking straight. After he messed up the count on two separate occasions they let Reid go. Apparently they didn’t like getting less money than was fair either. But his mind had been going for a while. He wasn’t seeing things so clearly, or perha 2