Travel Reference
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I was in the shower two days later when Jane called. Her message said the news was bad.
“It's cancer,” she burst out when I called her back.
It sounded like she'd been crying.
“Where?”
“Pretty much everywhere.”
I sat down.
“What's the prognosis?”
“Lousy.”
“As in?”
She blew her nose
“I wouldn't bet the farm on Steve being around for Christmas.”
Michael and I were shattered. True, we didn't know Steve all that well. It wasn't like he
was a close friend. And yet there was something deeply endearing about him. We felt con-
nected. His bad news, in a very immediate sense, was ours.
We tried to think of ways we could help. For starters, we decided to call him and tell him
not to worry about our house.
I made the call.
“Jane said you didn't get great news.”
He laughed with a low, throaty rasp.
“Not really.”
“That sucks.”
“Big time.”
“What's the next step?”
“We're headed to New York. Sloan-Kettering. Believe it or not, one of my college bud-
dies is a doctor there. He's already worked out my treatment plan.”
This sounded promising.
“Steve, that's great. I'm so glad.”
“Yeah, and we're going to live in Carnegie Hall.”
I tried to take this in.
“I hope you practiced.”
It was a lame joke, but I was at a rare loss for words.
“Actually there are apartments in the building, and a friend of a friend who lives there is
on sabbatical in Australia. So we're in.” He paused. “My Sue and me.”
I swallowed hard.
“So how are you guys for money?”
He laughed again.
“We're not exactly charity cases, you know.”
I chuckled too.
“True, but we owe you around two grand. I'm sending you a check today.”
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