As He Melted Away

Ben was dying on the day that I met him. It was my first day on the job, and he was supposed to train me on how to deal with some travel reimbursement forms. He wasn't dying immediately, mind you - he was just already diagnosed as terminal. I had apparently been chosen as his replacement for when he couldn't work anymore. He disclosed all of this while we were taking a tea break between forms. His voice shook, but his words were simple and direct: he had lung cancer that had spread to his brain. Six months, maybe a year. We would work as a team until he couldn't keep up, and then I would carry on. He hoped to have me trained as quickly as possible.

Over the months I took over small tasks, then bigger ones. As new clients came in, they were added to my list. We shared the older ones. His list got smaller, and he became frustrated. Our projects were planned two-years out, using grant money. He wouldn't be here to follow-through on the longer ones. Each file had a projected start date for data collection right on the file tab. Fewer and fewer were before his sell-by date.

Everyday we argued about where to order lunch and then I went to pick it up. At first he preferred the Mexican or Indian restaurants, but then he couldn't tolerate the spice. Grapefruit interfered with one of his medications, a new-age friend had told him to stop eating meat. For a few weeks Ben brought his lunch to work everyday. We never really spoke during lunch, we just shared a crossword puzzle from the big book at the table. He had to nap in the afternoons some days, and then the fatigue really kicked in. He left work by 1:00pm anyway, so he stopped bringing lunch.

Ben offered me a hug when my fiance moved out. He listened to my complaints and offered me a pair of concert tickets he won. "I'm too tired to go in the evenings," he said, "and Liz is too scared to leave me alone."

Ben and I were still working together when I got my year-review and raise. We celebrated with sparkling grape juice. We sat in silence and watched our ice cubes melt. There were no words between us. I saw him leave that afternoon and he pulled over a few buildings down, under a blooming dogwood. He was crying. A few hours later, I pulled over in the same spot and did the same. The tree was beautiful, but it had peaked already and the flowers were floating away.