Life Begins at 30

Live each day as if it were your last.

--Anonymous

"We have to talk." Harry glanced at his shaking hand. He tried to hold it steady with the other, but that proved useless.

"Are you alright?" She followed his voice into the bedroom. He was looking away, towards the nightstand. "Honey, you're shaking."

"I had a late night," he replied and gestured towards the empty mug on the nightstand. "I think I made the coffee a bit too strong."

She followed his direction and sat next to him on the bed. She looked into his eyes, as if she were waiting for them to answer.

He still shook, but at least he met her gaze.

His eyes refused to answer. "What did you want?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck. It wasn't her. She never made him nervous. Her soft brown eyes even soothed him a little. "I remembered something that happened a long time ago." His fingers moved to his head, making little circles through his short blonde hair.

"Stop fidgeting. What is it?"

"When I was in college I would wake up early on Sundays. Other students would go out drinking late or something like that. I would go church-hopping."

Her eyes wandered to the coffee cup. "What are you talking about?"

"We would pick different churches to visit. I came from a Baptist background, so I was interested in visiting churches from different denominations. We chose one church denomination every week."

"Is this some kind of a confession?" She put her hands on his and smiled. That should keep those damn things still for a while.

"Not exactly," he replied after a moment. "It's more of an irrational fear, really."

She began to shake. "Cut it out, Harry!"

He sat against the headboard and straightened his back.

The hell with it.

"We went to a church where people prophesy, speak in strange languages, and look for dangerous animals to harrass. At least some of them claimed to do the last part.

"Anyway, one of the members greeted me with too firm of a handshake. He had bleached hair and looked like he was about my age. Maybe a year or two older. He said his name was Geoff Winsteen. He took charge immediately and made sure my friends and I sat in his row.

"Well, the service was scary. A lot of screaming and tongue-rolling. Everyone was talking at once. I'm not quite sure who the preacher was. I think it was the bearded guy standing up front, but who knows.

"After the service my friends got up to make our escape. But blondie caught me in his iron grip again.

"'So we'll see you next week?' he blared.

"'I'm not sure. Maybe some other time,' I answered. He looked like a mountain, or a giant with a bad bleach job. And he didn't let go.

"So he says, 'Don't put off important decisions too often. You haven't got much time, you know.' Damn, his teeth were so yellow.

"I shot back, 'Yeah, life is short.' I tried not to register the apparent threat.

"He grinned (dear lord) and said, 'Especially for you. All you've got is thirty years, right?'

"I managed to get my hand free at that point. 'What? Are you insane?'

"'Didn't you know? You'll be dead before your thirtieth birthday. From stomach cancer.'

"I just stared at him. What could I say?

"Geoff grunts, 'You didn't know? I can't believe no one ever told you that before!'

"'How do you know that?' I managed.

"He began waving his arms in wide circles as he bellowed something about paying attention in church. Just about then he got unintelligible. My friends and I made our exit.

"I never even thought about it much after that. Not until now."

Harry watched her, waiting for her response. Her face was in her hands. The bed began to quiver, and this time he knew it wasn't because of him.

He turned to face her. She was laughing.

"Is that the big deal? You're afraid you won't live until tomorrow?"

Harry wanted to smile. He wanted to join her. "I wish it was funny."

She looked at him again and stopped laughing. "No one enjoys birthdays from this point on, honey. It's the law."

"The doctor hasn't called back yet. Or didn't you know about the problems I've been having with my stomach?"

"Ulcers, honey." She stood up and walked toward the door. "That's all."

"So, this is it, then? You won't even admit there may be a problem?"

"Your problem is imaginary. You met a crazy man who poisoned you with worry. If you die, it's because of you. Not cancer."

"Alice--" he started, but she dissappeared through the door. He stared at the coffee cup as he listened to her feet racing down the steps.

Harry clutched his stomach. Maybe she was right. Ulcers, cancer. What did he know about it?

The door eased open. A little face peeked into the room. "Daddy?"

For the first time that morning, Harry smiled. "I'm sorry, Sandy. Did we wake you?"

Sandy lifted her pudgy fists to her eyes. Daddy stood on the hardwood floor and met her with a hug.

"Why were you and Mommy yelling? Are you angry?"

Harry watched his daughter as her eyes appeard to triple in size.

Blue eyes, like the sea. Most of her features were Asian, like her mother. But she had Harry's eyes.

"It's okay, honey. Daddy's just a little tired."

He sat up on the bed and reached out to her. Sandy ran to her father and climbed onto his lap. "Daddy?"

"Yes?" He couldn't see her eyes, but the sea still calmed him.

"What's cancer?"

The pain returned. He grabbed his stomach, stood up and set Sandy on the bed. He began to feel the shakes returning, too.

The hell with it.

He sat next to her. "Do you remember a few nights ago when you wouldn't sleep because you saw a scary man in your room?"

She nodded.

"And Mommy and Daddy showed you it was just a coat rack. Do you remember what Daddy said?"

"You said there are bad people in the world, but not in my room."

Harry patted her head. "And there won't be. Mommy and Daddy will protect you, no matter what."

"But Daddy, what is cancer? Is it a bad man?"

"Something like that. It's a scary thing, and it exists." Harry inhaled.

"But not in this room?"

He sat for a moment, then exhaled. "Right. Not in this house, pumpkin."

He eased off the bed and lifted Sandy to the floor.


She rubbed her eyes again. "What day is it?"

Harry stretched. "It's Saturday morning. Are you hungry?"

Sandy nodded.

"Do you want pancakes?"

Sandy grinned her agreement.

"Let's go, then."

Following his instructions, she climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Holding on to her legs, he snorted and jogged through the open doorway. Sandy screamed with delight as they bolted down the stairs.


*********
Harry stared at the red numbers on the clock next to his bed. 2:30 A.M. Fitful dreams deprived him of a good night's sleep. He kept seeing tombstones and death and rebirth.

He dreamed he was reincarnated as another person with cancer so he could die again. One dream involved that lunatic Geoff and a gun. The outcome was always the same for Harry. An early death.

The pain in his stomach throbbed. He looked towards Alice sleeping next to him. She seemed peaceful enough.

Peaceful, like the waves of the Japanese sea where they met. He told her the waves reminded him of life. The ocean roared and still it calmed him. A gentle roar. It's so alive, he said.

He remembered she had turned his face towards hers. She wanted to look him in the eye.

He relaxed and drifted to sleep.

*********

Harry lay still on his back as a gentle hand nudged him. "It's after ten. You should get up."

He didn't budge. The nudge gained momentum. "Harry, get up!"

"Hmmm?" He mumbled.

Alice slapped her pillow across his stomach with a gentle thump.

"Okay, I'm up." Harry eased his way up to sit against the headboard. "What day is it?"

Alice and Sandy stood in front of him. His wife held a chocolate-looking cake. "Happy birthday to you..."

Harry yawned and stretched, then smiled at his serenade. "You made me a cake?"

"We both did," Alice replied. "And you'd better like it."
*****

Harry sat on the sofa, watching Sandy sleep through the movie. He turned to Alice and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "About yesterday, I'm sorry if I scared you."

"It wasn't that," she smiled. "I couldn't stand any more of your coffee breath."

*****

Somewhere far away a series of green hills roll. Thin,naked trees seem to reach helping hands towards the lines of concrete slabs. One stone reads in bold letters, "Here lies Geoff Winsteen. 1975-2004. He died of cancer. That's all we know, really."

You can visit anytime, but it would be ill advised to stay.