“How’s your dad?” I find myself asking, even though I know I shouldn’t be bringing it up. “The usual,” he replies after a moment. His voice holds nonchalance. “What about yours? Heard from him?” “Touché,” I say defeated. “How are you holding up, man?” hris rolls his eyes and I see so much of myself in them. Cold, unfeeling, and blue. “I don’t care, any more.” ’m at a temporary lost. I look down at my pizza. The pupil-less eyes of the pepperonis stare back. “Come on man, don’t say that,” I warn him. “You should care. Chris, he’s your father. He’s sick.” “He’s dying.” His face twists with a gush of anger. “I don’t care,” he repeats. know his words aren’t true; at least not yet, they aren’t. “You’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Don’t be so apathetic.” At this point I feel like such a hypocrite. “There are people who care about you. People who’ll love you, if you let them. They need you. You can’t shut them out.” hris breaks eye contact, but stays silent. “You understand?” I ask. I wish someone would have said something like this to me when I needed it. “Yeah,” my cousin mumbles, but I’m not convinced. “Do you promise?” I ask. “Yeah,” his voice is still low, barely audible. “Do you swear?” I shout at him to stress the seriousness. “Yes!” he booms back. “Alright, I swear. Jesus.” he pizza girl, behind the counter, watches uneasy. “It can get bad, believe me. I know.” My voice is waning. “You can never let that monster win.” I want Chris to listen. I need him to really hear me. “You have to be strong. I’m here for you,” I’m almost in tears and I don’t know why. I’m certain that he must see me as a failure. “You have to fight,” my voice is less than a whisper now, “for both of us.”