A PARTRIDGE FAMILY REUNION, Part 4
The exam room was small, sterile, comforting. After being in the cavernous, dark x-ray room for two solid hours while they took pictures of every bone in his body and then some, this little room was cozy. And warm; very warm, but then again, Keith was sleepy, having just awakened from the biopsy. He remembered as far back as being given the shot, but that was it. Man, he thought. His head was so light…
The door opened and Chris and a woman in a white coat entered. The room must have gotten bigger, because they looked half a mile away.
"Good news," Chris was saying. "Your shoulder's not broken."
"Great. Now we can go home." Keith tried to sit up, but with only one arm available for leverage, it was next to impossible.
"Woah!" Chris's hand was on his good shoulder. "We haven't gotten the results of the biopsy yet."
"I don't care," Keith said drowsily. "I just want to go home. We have rehearsals…"
He saw the lady doctor smile. "It shouldn't be long, now. I'll call the lab." She turned and exited.
Sighing, Chris sat down on the chair next to the exam table. Keith blinked, looking at him through still-bleary eyes. "Do you think I have it?"
Chris's eyes met Keith's. "I don't know. I just don't know. I hope not."
"You hope not…" Keith swallowed. His head was slowly clearing now, but his stomach felt queasy. "Oh,man…either way, I don't think I want to know…can't we just go home?" He pleaded.
Chris stared at him. "Putting the news off won't help, pal."
The door swung open and the lady doctor was back, a manila envelope in her hand. The two men looked at it as if were from another planet, then their eyes locked.
"Well? Do you want me to read it, or would you rather hear it from Dr. Barnes?" Chris's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Do we have to look at it now? I mean, can we take it with us? I'm not sure I'm ready yet." Keith clenched and unclenched his fist.
Chris glanced at Dr. Barnes. She nodded, pushing the envelope at him. As Chris's fingers closed around it, Keith had to fight to keep what little lunch he'd had in its place.
###
The cool sea breeze was tinged with salt, stinging their faces as Chris and Keith drove along Highway 101. It had been Keith's idea to head to the beach, something totally understandable under the circumstances. It was a good place to put ones troubles aside for a brief moment in time, something that the elder Partridge had become quite adept at, especially in these last few years.
At the wheel, Chris could see his brother in his peripheral vision. Keith looked tired, worn, almost his full 31 years, but not quite. He could also see the manila envelope on the seat between them; an object that Keith seemed to be completely ignoring.
"Let me know when you want to stop." Chris guided the car around a curve. Beside them, not 50 feet away, the ocean surf pounded the rocks and cliffs that hemmed the shoreline.
Keith nodded, unconsciously rubbing his injured arm. The hospital had replaced Chris's dishtowel with a state-of-the-art, bonafide sling, which to Keith, made it look more painful than it really was.
"Lucky break, your shoulder not being broken," Chris said, trying to make conversation.
"Yeah." It was the only thing Keith had uttered for 30 miles, now.
Chris just shook his head.
Then Keith lifted his hand. "Pull over there."
Chris looked to see a public beach with just a handful of people doing their thing in the sun: sunning, swimming, surfing. There was a small picnic area with two cabanas and a refreshment stand and Chris pulled into a parking lot occupied by five or six other vehicles. Putting the car into park, he went to speak to Keith, but his brother was already out of the car, having left the envelope on the seat. Chris picked it up and got out, shutting the door.
Keith was leaning against the car, staring towards the water and for a moment there, Chris could almost picture him taking a run for it. He waited nervously, the envelope scrunched between his hands, his throat dry. He knew there was no sense in pushing him. Keith could be stubborn as a mule sometimes. He would just have to wait until he was ready.
"Want a beer?" Keith asked, still staring towards the water.
"No," Chris answered, and Keith pushed away from the car, heading for the canopied refreshment stand. Chris followed and took a seat at a table with an umbrella shading it.
Keith purchased his drink, but didn't join his brother right away. He looked back out at the water, taking a swallow of the beer.
Chris sighed, fingering the envelope before him on the metal table. Part of him wanted to just rip it open, read it and get it over with, but another part of him didn't even want to know what was inside. He could only imagine what Keith was going through.
With a thud, Keith sat down across from him and Chris raised his head to look at him. A few seconds passed, then Chris pushed the envelope at him.
"Ready?"
"No, but I don't have much choice, do I?"
His hand still on the envelope, Chris swallowed. "Want me to read it, or do you?"
"Go ahead. I probably wouldn't understand it anyway." Keith's voice was monotone, unemotional.
Chris nodded. His hands almost shook as he pulled up the clasp and reached inside. He slid the paper out and shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before opening them again. He could almost feel Keith's eyes boring into him as he began to read silently. The words there were technical, foreign to him. He had to read it twice to clarify it, and at the end of the second reading, he let the paper float down to the table and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, afraid to look up.
He heard Keith clear his throat. "I have it, don't I?" he asked quietly.
Chris balled his hands, pressing his forehead into his thumbs, still avoiding Keith's eyes. "It's Stage I." He barely got it out. Now he looked up.
Keith was pale there in the orange glow of the sunset, and Chris saw his brother's eyes shining.
"I'm sorry." It was all he could think of to say.
They heard a female voice. "Hey, aren't you Keith Partridge?"
Both boys turned to see a pretty, bikini-clad girl. Her blonde hair was streaked from the sun and she sported a crisp brown tan.
Keith took a deep breath. "Yes." He smiled as if nothing had happened.
"Wow, I told my friends it was you, but they wouldn't believe me," the girl gushed. "Can I get your autograph?"
"Sure. Do you have some paper?"
Sheepishly, she shook her head and Keith reached over, grabbing the envelope on the table, glancing at Chris. "Got a pen, Chris?"
Chris quickly searched his pockets, finally producing one, and he stared, open-mouthed as Keith scrawled his name on the envelope. He couldn't believe it. Not 30 seconds ago, he'd told Keith he had cancer and here he was signing an autograph for a fan.
Keith handed her the signed envelope, his smile still on his lips. "There you go," he said.
She took it from him, unaware of the turmoil he was experiencing deep down inside. "Thank you!" She managed to brush his hand with hers as she moved away, back to her friends, her life.
Once she was gone, Keith rose from the table.
Chris looked worried. "Where are you going?"
"I need to throw up," Keith said bluntly. And with that, he was off.
###
It would be the same deal as before: no telling the girls; not yet. They would let Danny in on it, but that was it. Shirley, Laurie and Tracy would just have to go on with their wedding plans. And no telling Reuben, either. He'd just about had a coronary over Keith's arm. Imagine what he would do over this!
Chris tried in vain to tell Keith of his options. Stage I, after all, meant that the cancer was extremely treatable; radiation therapy should kill all the harmful cells and it would go into almost immediate remission. But Keith wasn't in the mood to hear it. All he wanted to do was get the group ready for Saturday's show.
After delivering the good news about his shoulder to his mother, sisters and brother, Keith was off to the garage to set up for a much-needed rehearsal. In his and Chris's absence, Danny had at least had the presence of mind to unearth the instruments.
Keith was fumbling with a microphone stand when Danny entered. His solemn demeanor told him that Chris had told him the news. At first there was an uneasy silence, then Keith spoke. "Talk to Chris?"
Danny nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You…okay, and everything?" he asked after a moment.
"Fine." Keith said it as if he were.
More silence, then: "You want help setting up?"
"Sure, seeing as I'm a hand short. You want to stack the amps?"
Numbly, Danny moved to do as he was told, glancing at his brother. "Chris said you don't want to treat it."
Bent down by the mike stand, Keith kept his back to Danny. "Not right now, no. Maybe after the wedding."
"You shouldn't wait."
Keith sighed, straightening. "Look, I'm not in the mood to argue about it. Go get Mom and the others so we can start rehearsal." He moved toward the piano, still not facing his brother. He stretched, his hand on his back. It was aching like the devil.
Danny put his hand on his hip. "Dammit, Keith, quit being so stubborn! Chris knows what he's talking about. If you need treatment, you should get it now! He said it could spread."
Keith remained with his back to him. "Just get the others." His voice remained steady. Tired, but firm.
Fuming, Danny exited, and Keith sank down onto the piano bench. He could feel his throat swelling and his eyes burning. Stifling a sob, he slammed his fist down onto the piano keys, causing the instrument to reverberate loudly.
The noise was still echoing as Laurie came in. "That was a sour note," she smiled.
"Sorry," Keith muttered as his sister went to the organ sitting across the room. She glanced at him.
"A little ticked off about your arm, I take it?"
He nodded, not looking at her. She pulled up a bench, sitting down. "I hope I remember the songs. You do have sheet music…"
Keith rose, quickly wiping at his eyes. "There's some in my bag. I'll have to make copies." He tried to avoid her gaze as he fiddled with the amplifier, but she caught a good look at his face.
"Have you been crying?" she frowned.
Turning away, he shook his head.
She stared. "Your shoulder's broken, isn't it?"
"No." He said it sharply.
It was obvious he was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what. She went to say something, but Shirley, Danny and Chris entered.
"Tracy's on the phone with Ken and said she'd be right in." Shirley stopped for a moment to survey the scene in front of her. It was suddenly 1973 again, only this time Danny and Chris were taller than she was. It was almost eerie.
The boys took their places, glancing at their brother as they did so. Keith did his best to keep his back to everyone, but he knew it couldn't last forever.
Shirley dusted off the piano bench as Keith took a microphone and pulled a high stool into the middle of the floor. He sat down on it, clearing his throat. This wouldn't be easy.
Danny slung his bass over his shoulder. It felt funny, holding it after all this time. It seemed a lot smaller and lighter than he'd remembered. Then again, he was only eleven or twelve back then, and only half the size he was now.
Chris looked out over his drums, surprised that he could actually see the others now. More than once, he'd lost sight of the other family members behind this drum set. He almost laughed out loud just remembering.
All that was missing now was Tracy and her tambourine, but the wait was over quickly as she slipped inside.
"Sorry for the wait," she smiled, picking up the instrument. "Ken's driving up from L.A. tonight to meet everyone."
"Oh, honey, that's great," Shirley smiled. "We'll fix a special meal, just for him."
"He's especially looking forward to meeting you, Keith. He's been a fan of yours for a long time. Before he met me, even." Tracy came up behind her brother, hugging his neck.
Keith reached up, squeezing her arm. "Well, you just tell him he'd better treat you right or he won't be a fan much longer," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Come on, let's get this show on the road," Danny bemoaned.
"Insensitive twit." Tracy swatted at him with the tambourine and went back to her place as Keith looked around him.
"Everybody tuned, Danny?" he peered in Danny's direction.
"Of course it's tuned. I tuned it back in '75. When I tune 'em, they stay tuned." Danny scoffed, plucking a string.
The guitar let out a loud whimper and everyone reacted.
"Sounds like it died or something!" Tracy laughed.
"Yep, just like old times," Laurie sighed, leaning back on the bench. "Where did you say that sheet music was, Keith? I think I just may need it."
"In that brown bag, over there by the amp." Keith answered. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling so good. He put the mike down on the stool, starting for the door. "Excuse me…I need some water or something."
He hurried out, and Danny and Chris exchanged looks.
"That was sudden," Tracy said.
"Maybe his arm's hurting. Chris, go check on him, will you?" Shirley looked back at her youngest son.
"Yeah, okay," Chris said, stepping out from behind the drum kit and following his brother.
###
Keith was standing by the sink, pale and trembling, as Chris entered.
"What's up? You okay?" Chris put a hand on Keith's good shoulder.
The elder Partridge shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I don't know…I just feel…funny."
Chris pulled out a chair, sitting Keith down and peering into his eyes. "What do you mean, funny?"
"Kinda nauseous. Cold. I can feel my heart pounding."
Chris gave him a quick check, feeling the pulse in Keith's neck. "It sounds like an anxiety attack. Just try and relax. Take some deep breaths, let your muscles go limp," he ordered, massaging Keith's right shoulder blade.
Keith hung his head, trying to do as Chris prescribed. It wasn't long before both shoulders began to shake as Keith started to sob.
Chris pulled Keith's head toward him, holding it against his stomach. "Shhh…it's okay…"
Keith continued to cry, gut-wrenching sobs that made the younger boy tear up as well. Chris went on with the massage, staring down at his older brother.
"I'm scared." Keith barely got it out.
"I know, me, too." Chris swallowed hard, holding him tightly.
The boys clung to one another until Keith was nearly cried out. Chris knelt by the chair, looking hard into his brother's eyes. "You have to tell Mom and the girls, and we need to start treating this."
"Yeah," Keith nodded. "I know…it's just so hard."
"Do you want me to tell them? I will."
Keith shook his head. "I'll do it. I just don't want to steal Tracy's thunder."
Chris smiled, his eyes still moist. "You won't."
"Can I think about it? I mean, I can't just tell them. I have to do it in my own way."
Chris pressed his head into Keith's. "Okay, but do it. The sooner the better."
Keith nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I can't go back in there," he swallowed.
"We can just say your arm was hurting. Come on, before they come looking for us," Chris prompted. "Besides, once we get playing, you'll forget about this and your head will start hurting." He grinned.
Keith laughed in spite of himself.
###
The rehearsal was shaky at first; Keith having been the only one to have kept up with the music end, but after a couple of hours, they started sounding like the old group. The only difference was there were two more deep voices in the background.
No one had commented on Keith's haggard appearance from his crying bout; Chris had explained it away, blaming it on the pain in his shoulder, and they accepted the explanation. Everyone but Danny, however, because he knew better.
After going over "I Woke Up In Love This Morning" for the third time, Keith called a time out. The old shoulder really was beginning to hurt, now, and he knew it was time to give his voice a rest as well.
"Okay, that was almost perfect, but let's take a few." He stood up, stretching.
"Good. I need to start supper, anyway," Shirley stifled a yawn. "Tracy, you know what Ken likes. Let's go plan the menu."
"Okay," Tracy set the tambourine down. The jingling of it was still ringing in her ears, and she shook her head. "You know, somehow I don't remember it being such hard work."
"That's because you were too short to do anything. We older kids did all the work," Danny muttered, putting the bass on its stand.
"Oh, really?" Laurie sniffed. "I seem to remember you goofing off rather than working…like, oh, 99% of the time."
Keith smiled. "She's right, Danny. You and Chris were always off chasing each other or throwing water balloons, sometimes right before the curtain went up. I felt like I was in the middle of a kiddie matinee at the Bijou."
"Oh, and you were Mr. Professional? I seem to recall more than one time when we had to hold up going on because you were having a bad hair day or something trivial." Danny smirked.
"Some things never change," Shirley sighed. She'd hoped that since ten years had passed, the arguments would, too, but she was wrong. "Come on, Tracy, let's get out of here before it gets ugly."
She and her youngest exited and Laurie gathered up the sheet music. "So, Keith, how's your arm?" She said it lightly, still determined to find out just what it was he was keeping from her.
"It's okay. Danny, get my guitar. You're gonna have to fill in for me on a couple of these numbers." Keith instructed.
The way he'd brushed it off made her even more intrigued. Her law background meant that she wasn't about to back down. She watched as Danny took the powder blue electric guitar from its case and slipped it around his neck. Keith plugged it into the amplifier and went back to Danny, doing his best to avoid Laurie's gaze.
"Okay, it should be tuned, but try it anyway." He almost asked, 'Are your hands clean?' but he held his tongue. The kid wasn't eleven anymore.
Danny strummed it; perfect. Keith smiled.
"Let's go over the riffs on 'As Long as You're There,' it's pretty simple. Laurie, hand me the sheet music." He reached behind him.
She pulled the music back. "Oh, no, not until you spill it."
He turned, looking at her. "What?"
She tapped the papers in her hand. "Tell me what's going on. You're hiding something "
Keith glanced at Chris, still behind the drum set. Chris nodded, his eyes wide. Danny coughed uncomfortably, putting the guitar aside for now.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Keith muttered.
"Better tell her, Keith," Chris said.
Knowing Chris was right, Keith sat back down on the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. He was silent for quite a long time, and Laurie frowned.
"Keith? What is it?" She fought hard not to jump up.
"Laurie, I…" he almost whispered. "Oh, man, how can I say this?" he winced, closing his eyes.
Chris moved around to be by Keith's side. "Come on, tell her. She needs to know." He squeezed Keith's shoulder.
Keith looked up, his eyes shining and Laurie's gaze went from brother to brother. This could not be good. "What?" she nearly screamed it.
"I have cancer. Lymphoma." There. It wasn't easy, but he'd said it.
Laurie reacted as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She leaned back on the bench, her face white. "Oh, Dear God…"
"It's in the early stage, which is very treatable," Chris added, his fingers still digging into Keith's shoulder. "We're gonna fight it, aren't we, pal?"
Keith nodded as Laurie got up, going to him. He met her halfway, and they embraced hard, holding one another for a long time.
The scene even made Danny tear up and he reached over, grabbing Keith's hand. Keith pulled him into the hug and soon Chris was in the circle; everyone crying and hanging on to each other.
It was a while before they could regain some composure, and Laurie held Keith's head in her hands, her face wet with tears. " You have to tell Mom and Tracy."
He nodded, swallowing. "I know…"
"NOW, Keith."
"I can't," he said, his throat burning. "Not with everything that's going on; not tonight. But I will."
She nodded, pulling him to her once again and burying her face in his collarbone. "I'm here for you, brother…"
He closed his eyes, just letting her hold him.
continued...
The exam room was small, sterile, comforting. After being in the cavernous, dark x-ray room for two solid hours while they took pictures of every bone in his body and then some, this little room was cozy. And warm; very warm, but then again, Keith was sleepy, having just awakened from the biopsy. He remembered as far back as being given the shot, but that was it. Man, he thought. His head was so light…
The door opened and Chris and a woman in a white coat entered. The room must have gotten bigger, because they looked half a mile away.
"Good news," Chris was saying. "Your shoulder's not broken."
"Great. Now we can go home." Keith tried to sit up, but with only one arm available for leverage, it was next to impossible.
"Woah!" Chris's hand was on his good shoulder. "We haven't gotten the results of the biopsy yet."
"I don't care," Keith said drowsily. "I just want to go home. We have rehearsals…"
He saw the lady doctor smile. "It shouldn't be long, now. I'll call the lab." She turned and exited.
Sighing, Chris sat down on the chair next to the exam table. Keith blinked, looking at him through still-bleary eyes. "Do you think I have it?"
Chris's eyes met Keith's. "I don't know. I just don't know. I hope not."
"You hope not…" Keith swallowed. His head was slowly clearing now, but his stomach felt queasy. "Oh,man…either way, I don't think I want to know…can't we just go home?" He pleaded.
Chris stared at him. "Putting the news off won't help, pal."
The door swung open and the lady doctor was back, a manila envelope in her hand. The two men looked at it as if were from another planet, then their eyes locked.
"Well? Do you want me to read it, or would you rather hear it from Dr. Barnes?" Chris's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Do we have to look at it now? I mean, can we take it with us? I'm not sure I'm ready yet." Keith clenched and unclenched his fist.
Chris glanced at Dr. Barnes. She nodded, pushing the envelope at him. As Chris's fingers closed around it, Keith had to fight to keep what little lunch he'd had in its place.
###
The cool sea breeze was tinged with salt, stinging their faces as Chris and Keith drove along Highway 101. It had been Keith's idea to head to the beach, something totally understandable under the circumstances. It was a good place to put ones troubles aside for a brief moment in time, something that the elder Partridge had become quite adept at, especially in these last few years.
At the wheel, Chris could see his brother in his peripheral vision. Keith looked tired, worn, almost his full 31 years, but not quite. He could also see the manila envelope on the seat between them; an object that Keith seemed to be completely ignoring.
"Let me know when you want to stop." Chris guided the car around a curve. Beside them, not 50 feet away, the ocean surf pounded the rocks and cliffs that hemmed the shoreline.
Keith nodded, unconsciously rubbing his injured arm. The hospital had replaced Chris's dishtowel with a state-of-the-art, bonafide sling, which to Keith, made it look more painful than it really was.
"Lucky break, your shoulder not being broken," Chris said, trying to make conversation.
"Yeah." It was the only thing Keith had uttered for 30 miles, now.
Chris just shook his head.
Then Keith lifted his hand. "Pull over there."
Chris looked to see a public beach with just a handful of people doing their thing in the sun: sunning, swimming, surfing. There was a small picnic area with two cabanas and a refreshment stand and Chris pulled into a parking lot occupied by five or six other vehicles. Putting the car into park, he went to speak to Keith, but his brother was already out of the car, having left the envelope on the seat. Chris picked it up and got out, shutting the door.
Keith was leaning against the car, staring towards the water and for a moment there, Chris could almost picture him taking a run for it. He waited nervously, the envelope scrunched between his hands, his throat dry. He knew there was no sense in pushing him. Keith could be stubborn as a mule sometimes. He would just have to wait until he was ready.
"Want a beer?" Keith asked, still staring towards the water.
"No," Chris answered, and Keith pushed away from the car, heading for the canopied refreshment stand. Chris followed and took a seat at a table with an umbrella shading it.
Keith purchased his drink, but didn't join his brother right away. He looked back out at the water, taking a swallow of the beer.
Chris sighed, fingering the envelope before him on the metal table. Part of him wanted to just rip it open, read it and get it over with, but another part of him didn't even want to know what was inside. He could only imagine what Keith was going through.
With a thud, Keith sat down across from him and Chris raised his head to look at him. A few seconds passed, then Chris pushed the envelope at him.
"Ready?"
"No, but I don't have much choice, do I?"
His hand still on the envelope, Chris swallowed. "Want me to read it, or do you?"
"Go ahead. I probably wouldn't understand it anyway." Keith's voice was monotone, unemotional.
Chris nodded. His hands almost shook as he pulled up the clasp and reached inside. He slid the paper out and shut his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before opening them again. He could almost feel Keith's eyes boring into him as he began to read silently. The words there were technical, foreign to him. He had to read it twice to clarify it, and at the end of the second reading, he let the paper float down to the table and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, afraid to look up.
He heard Keith clear his throat. "I have it, don't I?" he asked quietly.
Chris balled his hands, pressing his forehead into his thumbs, still avoiding Keith's eyes. "It's Stage I." He barely got it out. Now he looked up.
Keith was pale there in the orange glow of the sunset, and Chris saw his brother's eyes shining.
"I'm sorry." It was all he could think of to say.
They heard a female voice. "Hey, aren't you Keith Partridge?"
Both boys turned to see a pretty, bikini-clad girl. Her blonde hair was streaked from the sun and she sported a crisp brown tan.
Keith took a deep breath. "Yes." He smiled as if nothing had happened.
"Wow, I told my friends it was you, but they wouldn't believe me," the girl gushed. "Can I get your autograph?"
"Sure. Do you have some paper?"
Sheepishly, she shook her head and Keith reached over, grabbing the envelope on the table, glancing at Chris. "Got a pen, Chris?"
Chris quickly searched his pockets, finally producing one, and he stared, open-mouthed as Keith scrawled his name on the envelope. He couldn't believe it. Not 30 seconds ago, he'd told Keith he had cancer and here he was signing an autograph for a fan.
Keith handed her the signed envelope, his smile still on his lips. "There you go," he said.
She took it from him, unaware of the turmoil he was experiencing deep down inside. "Thank you!" She managed to brush his hand with hers as she moved away, back to her friends, her life.
Once she was gone, Keith rose from the table.
Chris looked worried. "Where are you going?"
"I need to throw up," Keith said bluntly. And with that, he was off.
###
It would be the same deal as before: no telling the girls; not yet. They would let Danny in on it, but that was it. Shirley, Laurie and Tracy would just have to go on with their wedding plans. And no telling Reuben, either. He'd just about had a coronary over Keith's arm. Imagine what he would do over this!
Chris tried in vain to tell Keith of his options. Stage I, after all, meant that the cancer was extremely treatable; radiation therapy should kill all the harmful cells and it would go into almost immediate remission. But Keith wasn't in the mood to hear it. All he wanted to do was get the group ready for Saturday's show.
After delivering the good news about his shoulder to his mother, sisters and brother, Keith was off to the garage to set up for a much-needed rehearsal. In his and Chris's absence, Danny had at least had the presence of mind to unearth the instruments.
Keith was fumbling with a microphone stand when Danny entered. His solemn demeanor told him that Chris had told him the news. At first there was an uneasy silence, then Keith spoke. "Talk to Chris?"
Danny nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You…okay, and everything?" he asked after a moment.
"Fine." Keith said it as if he were.
More silence, then: "You want help setting up?"
"Sure, seeing as I'm a hand short. You want to stack the amps?"
Numbly, Danny moved to do as he was told, glancing at his brother. "Chris said you don't want to treat it."
Bent down by the mike stand, Keith kept his back to Danny. "Not right now, no. Maybe after the wedding."
"You shouldn't wait."
Keith sighed, straightening. "Look, I'm not in the mood to argue about it. Go get Mom and the others so we can start rehearsal." He moved toward the piano, still not facing his brother. He stretched, his hand on his back. It was aching like the devil.
Danny put his hand on his hip. "Dammit, Keith, quit being so stubborn! Chris knows what he's talking about. If you need treatment, you should get it now! He said it could spread."
Keith remained with his back to him. "Just get the others." His voice remained steady. Tired, but firm.
Fuming, Danny exited, and Keith sank down onto the piano bench. He could feel his throat swelling and his eyes burning. Stifling a sob, he slammed his fist down onto the piano keys, causing the instrument to reverberate loudly.
The noise was still echoing as Laurie came in. "That was a sour note," she smiled.
"Sorry," Keith muttered as his sister went to the organ sitting across the room. She glanced at him.
"A little ticked off about your arm, I take it?"
He nodded, not looking at her. She pulled up a bench, sitting down. "I hope I remember the songs. You do have sheet music…"
Keith rose, quickly wiping at his eyes. "There's some in my bag. I'll have to make copies." He tried to avoid her gaze as he fiddled with the amplifier, but she caught a good look at his face.
"Have you been crying?" she frowned.
Turning away, he shook his head.
She stared. "Your shoulder's broken, isn't it?"
"No." He said it sharply.
It was obvious he was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what. She went to say something, but Shirley, Danny and Chris entered.
"Tracy's on the phone with Ken and said she'd be right in." Shirley stopped for a moment to survey the scene in front of her. It was suddenly 1973 again, only this time Danny and Chris were taller than she was. It was almost eerie.
The boys took their places, glancing at their brother as they did so. Keith did his best to keep his back to everyone, but he knew it couldn't last forever.
Shirley dusted off the piano bench as Keith took a microphone and pulled a high stool into the middle of the floor. He sat down on it, clearing his throat. This wouldn't be easy.
Danny slung his bass over his shoulder. It felt funny, holding it after all this time. It seemed a lot smaller and lighter than he'd remembered. Then again, he was only eleven or twelve back then, and only half the size he was now.
Chris looked out over his drums, surprised that he could actually see the others now. More than once, he'd lost sight of the other family members behind this drum set. He almost laughed out loud just remembering.
All that was missing now was Tracy and her tambourine, but the wait was over quickly as she slipped inside.
"Sorry for the wait," she smiled, picking up the instrument. "Ken's driving up from L.A. tonight to meet everyone."
"Oh, honey, that's great," Shirley smiled. "We'll fix a special meal, just for him."
"He's especially looking forward to meeting you, Keith. He's been a fan of yours for a long time. Before he met me, even." Tracy came up behind her brother, hugging his neck.
Keith reached up, squeezing her arm. "Well, you just tell him he'd better treat you right or he won't be a fan much longer," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Come on, let's get this show on the road," Danny bemoaned.
"Insensitive twit." Tracy swatted at him with the tambourine and went back to her place as Keith looked around him.
"Everybody tuned, Danny?" he peered in Danny's direction.
"Of course it's tuned. I tuned it back in '75. When I tune 'em, they stay tuned." Danny scoffed, plucking a string.
The guitar let out a loud whimper and everyone reacted.
"Sounds like it died or something!" Tracy laughed.
"Yep, just like old times," Laurie sighed, leaning back on the bench. "Where did you say that sheet music was, Keith? I think I just may need it."
"In that brown bag, over there by the amp." Keith answered. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling so good. He put the mike down on the stool, starting for the door. "Excuse me…I need some water or something."
He hurried out, and Danny and Chris exchanged looks.
"That was sudden," Tracy said.
"Maybe his arm's hurting. Chris, go check on him, will you?" Shirley looked back at her youngest son.
"Yeah, okay," Chris said, stepping out from behind the drum kit and following his brother.
###
Keith was standing by the sink, pale and trembling, as Chris entered.
"What's up? You okay?" Chris put a hand on Keith's good shoulder.
The elder Partridge shook his head, running his hand through his hair. "I don't know…I just feel…funny."
Chris pulled out a chair, sitting Keith down and peering into his eyes. "What do you mean, funny?"
"Kinda nauseous. Cold. I can feel my heart pounding."
Chris gave him a quick check, feeling the pulse in Keith's neck. "It sounds like an anxiety attack. Just try and relax. Take some deep breaths, let your muscles go limp," he ordered, massaging Keith's right shoulder blade.
Keith hung his head, trying to do as Chris prescribed. It wasn't long before both shoulders began to shake as Keith started to sob.
Chris pulled Keith's head toward him, holding it against his stomach. "Shhh…it's okay…"
Keith continued to cry, gut-wrenching sobs that made the younger boy tear up as well. Chris went on with the massage, staring down at his older brother.
"I'm scared." Keith barely got it out.
"I know, me, too." Chris swallowed hard, holding him tightly.
The boys clung to one another until Keith was nearly cried out. Chris knelt by the chair, looking hard into his brother's eyes. "You have to tell Mom and the girls, and we need to start treating this."
"Yeah," Keith nodded. "I know…it's just so hard."
"Do you want me to tell them? I will."
Keith shook his head. "I'll do it. I just don't want to steal Tracy's thunder."
Chris smiled, his eyes still moist. "You won't."
"Can I think about it? I mean, I can't just tell them. I have to do it in my own way."
Chris pressed his head into Keith's. "Okay, but do it. The sooner the better."
Keith nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I can't go back in there," he swallowed.
"We can just say your arm was hurting. Come on, before they come looking for us," Chris prompted. "Besides, once we get playing, you'll forget about this and your head will start hurting." He grinned.
Keith laughed in spite of himself.
###
The rehearsal was shaky at first; Keith having been the only one to have kept up with the music end, but after a couple of hours, they started sounding like the old group. The only difference was there were two more deep voices in the background.
No one had commented on Keith's haggard appearance from his crying bout; Chris had explained it away, blaming it on the pain in his shoulder, and they accepted the explanation. Everyone but Danny, however, because he knew better.
After going over "I Woke Up In Love This Morning" for the third time, Keith called a time out. The old shoulder really was beginning to hurt, now, and he knew it was time to give his voice a rest as well.
"Okay, that was almost perfect, but let's take a few." He stood up, stretching.
"Good. I need to start supper, anyway," Shirley stifled a yawn. "Tracy, you know what Ken likes. Let's go plan the menu."
"Okay," Tracy set the tambourine down. The jingling of it was still ringing in her ears, and she shook her head. "You know, somehow I don't remember it being such hard work."
"That's because you were too short to do anything. We older kids did all the work," Danny muttered, putting the bass on its stand.
"Oh, really?" Laurie sniffed. "I seem to remember you goofing off rather than working…like, oh, 99% of the time."
Keith smiled. "She's right, Danny. You and Chris were always off chasing each other or throwing water balloons, sometimes right before the curtain went up. I felt like I was in the middle of a kiddie matinee at the Bijou."
"Oh, and you were Mr. Professional? I seem to recall more than one time when we had to hold up going on because you were having a bad hair day or something trivial." Danny smirked.
"Some things never change," Shirley sighed. She'd hoped that since ten years had passed, the arguments would, too, but she was wrong. "Come on, Tracy, let's get out of here before it gets ugly."
She and her youngest exited and Laurie gathered up the sheet music. "So, Keith, how's your arm?" She said it lightly, still determined to find out just what it was he was keeping from her.
"It's okay. Danny, get my guitar. You're gonna have to fill in for me on a couple of these numbers." Keith instructed.
The way he'd brushed it off made her even more intrigued. Her law background meant that she wasn't about to back down. She watched as Danny took the powder blue electric guitar from its case and slipped it around his neck. Keith plugged it into the amplifier and went back to Danny, doing his best to avoid Laurie's gaze.
"Okay, it should be tuned, but try it anyway." He almost asked, 'Are your hands clean?' but he held his tongue. The kid wasn't eleven anymore.
Danny strummed it; perfect. Keith smiled.
"Let's go over the riffs on 'As Long as You're There,' it's pretty simple. Laurie, hand me the sheet music." He reached behind him.
She pulled the music back. "Oh, no, not until you spill it."
He turned, looking at her. "What?"
She tapped the papers in her hand. "Tell me what's going on. You're hiding something "
Keith glanced at Chris, still behind the drum set. Chris nodded, his eyes wide. Danny coughed uncomfortably, putting the guitar aside for now.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Keith muttered.
"Better tell her, Keith," Chris said.
Knowing Chris was right, Keith sat back down on the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. He was silent for quite a long time, and Laurie frowned.
"Keith? What is it?" She fought hard not to jump up.
"Laurie, I…" he almost whispered. "Oh, man, how can I say this?" he winced, closing his eyes.
Chris moved around to be by Keith's side. "Come on, tell her. She needs to know." He squeezed Keith's shoulder.
Keith looked up, his eyes shining and Laurie's gaze went from brother to brother. This could not be good. "What?" she nearly screamed it.
"I have cancer. Lymphoma." There. It wasn't easy, but he'd said it.
Laurie reacted as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She leaned back on the bench, her face white. "Oh, Dear God…"
"It's in the early stage, which is very treatable," Chris added, his fingers still digging into Keith's shoulder. "We're gonna fight it, aren't we, pal?"
Keith nodded as Laurie got up, going to him. He met her halfway, and they embraced hard, holding one another for a long time.
The scene even made Danny tear up and he reached over, grabbing Keith's hand. Keith pulled him into the hug and soon Chris was in the circle; everyone crying and hanging on to each other.
It was a while before they could regain some composure, and Laurie held Keith's head in her hands, her face wet with tears. " You have to tell Mom and Tracy."
He nodded, swallowing. "I know…"
"NOW, Keith."
"I can't," he said, his throat burning. "Not with everything that's going on; not tonight. But I will."
She nodded, pulling him to her once again and burying her face in his collarbone. "I'm here for you, brother…"
He closed his eyes, just letting her hold him.
continued...