The smell of sizzling bacon, hot coffee and burnt toast wafting through the air never smelled so incredible.  The family diner we’d been coming to for years after church on Sundays now seemed like fine dining.  I felt like a king.  A dying king, albeit, but a king nonetheless. Now that Karen knew I felt like there was nothing stopping me from having the most amazing twenty nine days with her and my kids, and the rest of the family we’d stop and see along the way.  What a gem she was, calling my parents the way she had, after only having found out about this mess maybe five minutes beforehand.  God, I would miss her.  Or at least, she would miss me… 

“Daddy, it’s your turn!” Melissa was anxiously waiting for me to order my breakfast, as was out waitress.  I looked up and saw the face of the young blonde who usually served us.  Seems like we always end up in her section.  I should probably know her name, but at that moment I couldn’t remember it.  No matter, her nametag read “Jane” so I went with that.   

 “Sorry Jane, didn’t mean to keep ya’ waitin’.  Gimmie the Western with no onion but extra cheese.  Hash browns well done and I mean, almost burnt, okay?  Oh, and uh, rye toasts, and keep the coffee coming.”   Karen gave me with a look that reminded me that my brain tumor didn’t excuse bad manners.  “Please Jane, thanks.” I added, and smiled first at Jane, and then at my wife.  Jane giggled and walked away to place our order.  Apparently I’d been lost in my own thoughts once again while my entire family had decided on their breakfast choices.  I sipped my coffee and heard Jane’s voice yell out, “Order up!” I looked over my shoulder and watched her send that little slip of paper spinning around the wheel where about a dozen other tickets hung.  One of the cooks grabbed it with his greasy fingers and got to work.   

“Pops, we’ve been comin’ here since I was little and she’s always been our waitress.  Her name is Jan, not Jane…what a goof!”  Jeff chuckled and then blew his straw rapper at his sister.  I looked to Karen for confirmation of this, and she nodded gently.  So that’s what her look had been for, it had nothing to do with my manners.  She was trying to save me from embarrassing myself.  I’d been demoted from king to court jester in a matter of seconds.  

 “But it says ‘Jane’ on her tag,” I began, “and I thought that sounded about right.”  More laughter from Jeff.  Geesh, it’s a good thing he didn’t realize his dear old dad was about to kick the bucket in less than a month.  He loved to make jokes, that kid.  He usually cracked me up, but I was feeling a little self conscious by this time.  Had my vision started to go already, too?   

“Tony, don’t worry about it.  You probably mistook the smiley face she drew on there for an ‘e’.  So what?  Jeff, quit cackling over there.”  My beautiful, wonderful, and kind angel of a wife.  It must be so hard for her to know she’s going to watch me become an old man over the course of a month.  Things like this will only get worse and more noticeable to the kids.  We’d decided to take this trip and tell them only after we come home.  Selfishly, I’d wanted to tell them before we began this adventure so I could enjoy it with a sense of relief, no pretending.  Karen had helped me see that there was no way the kids would be in any mood to even go on this excursion if they’d known the truth.   

Hunter, our eldest son kicked Jeff beneath the table to add to his mother’s warning.  “Yeah Jeff, cut it out. We all know Pops is old, it’s not his fault he can’t see the letters on that itty bitty nametag.”  While he was taking a slight jab at me, I appreciated the gesture.   

“Daddy’s not old, he just needs glasses, like me.”  My sweet Melissa chimed in to defend me with vigor.  She adjusted her wire frames on her face for added effect.   

“Sorry, Pops.  You know I like messin’ with you.  Ma, who’s older, you or Dad?”  Jeff had the knack of turning things around with his humor.  Suddenly, everyone was in a playful mood again.  Karen smirked and shook her head.  It had been an ongoing joke with the kids that she was much older than me, when in reality I was two years her senior.  I was so grateful for this moment.  I wondered if every moment from now on would feel like this.  Like a shimmering, wonderful dream in which colors were brighter, smells were more fragrant, sounds were merrier, and judging from last night, sex was even more pleasurable than I thought possible.  If this is what my last thirty days would be like, I wanted to relish every moment.  I wanted to forget about almost bailing on my family that night, forget about the insanely violent homosexual dream, forget about the fact that my body would betray me and I’d have to say goodbye to my family. 

 I wanted to feel like a king for the next twenty nine days.  God, please let me live like a king before I die.  

Jan, as I now knew her, was balancing all five of our breakfasts on one very large tray as she pounded toward our table.  When she got close enough I took a peek at her nametag and squinted my eyes a bit.  Sure enough, a smiley face drawn in purple permanent marker.  I beamed at Karen and looked around the table at my family.  

 “It’s chow time.”