I'm Sorry, Spencer

By Brian Mancuso

In Brian Mancuso's first novel, he takes us on a journey through the adult life of once successful photographer, Spencer Donovan. From a unique perspective, we alternate between the present and the past in the respective chapters in the novel. We join Spencer as he deals with struggles, obstacles, addiction, and his family life. In the novel, Spencer tries to overcome mistakes from the past, as he searches for answers and closure. We sit shotgun, (or maybe in the back seat,) across an eight state trip from Buffalo, New York to Fort Lauderdale, Florida in an effort to see his hospitalized father. On behalf of Brian, thank you for letting him take you on this emotional journey. Please enjoy some selections of Brian's poetry and lyrics that he has written over the last twenty years. These pieces can be found at the end of this novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387478057

Book preview

I'm Sorry, Spencer

I'm Sorry, Spencer

By: Brian Mancuso

I'm Sorry, Spencer

Copyright © 2018 by: Brian C. Mancuso

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America

Published by: Lulu.com

ISBN 978-1-387-58061-3

ISBN 978-1-387-48699-1

ISBN 978-1-387-47805-7

Second Printing, 2018

Brian C. Mancuso

https://bmancuso24.wixsite.com/mancuso

www.ReverbNation.com/BrianMancuso

Cover Design by: Brian Mancuso

INTRODUCTION

I would like to thank you for taking the time to read and support my latest writing project, I'm Sorry, Spencer. In this book, the chapters will be alternating between when this story takes place, in October of 2016, and dating all the way back to July of 2006. There is a method to my madness, so please be patient.

On two previous occasions, I've started the book writing process, only to put the projects aside, letting life get in the way of that goal, as life often does.

In late 2016, I spent an afternoon reflecting on life, and I ended up updating my bucket list. On it, were fifteen things I would like to one day accomplish. I'm not going to take your time listing the other fourteen lines of hope that can be found magnetized to my refrigerator still today, but on it was: Write a book.

I've always believed every person has the ability to create something beautiful, whether it be through words, photography, cooking, helping others, or through so many other skills. We all hold that ability inside ourselves. In my life, I've spent countless hours putting my heart and soul down on paper through music, lyrics, and poetry. While this work of fiction doesn't fall into those categories, I put the same effort into this novel. In my eyes, doing that and finishing this piece, already makes this project a success. That being said, thank you again for taking the time to read this introduction and my novel, I'm Sorry, Spencer.

DEDICATION

The difference between dreaming and doing, often starts with one step. Whether it be physical or mental, we make a conscious effort to take that one step. In doing so, we are then forced to take a second step, or stop short of our dreams and wonder what could have been.

My friend Mike Vargovich is not just a dreamer; he is a doer. He has set his own goals and worked extremely hard to reach his dreams. Furthermore, he has always been someone that encouraged and inspired me to follow my dreams both musically, and otherwise. For these reasons, amongst so many others, it is with much pride and respect, I dedicate this novel to my good friend, Mike Vargovich. 

I would also like to dedicate this novel to my mother, Erin Mancuso. She has always been there for support and advice, and has always encouraged me to live up to my potential. Through example, she's taught me to be a better person and to respect others. I can't thank her enough for everything she's done for me over the years, and for helping to guide me into the person I am today. This novel is for you, Mom.

Lastly, I dedicate chapter three to my loving and rambunctious cat, Jack Mancuso. Who took the time to help rewrite this chapter after jumping on my laptop and erasing its finished state. Love you, buddy.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are several people that I would like to acknowledge and thank for giving me advice and information regarding their profession.

Thank you, Tom Gaffney for advising me regarding the legal aspects that take place in this book.

Thank you to Dr. Clairice Cooper, who guided me with the medical attributes for the plot, and helping make this journey more realistic. 

Thank you to Erin Mancuso, for being the first to read this book.

Thanks to Lulu.com for publishing this novel.

Chapter ONE

Sunday, October 16, 2016

I'm Sorry, Spencer. This was never the way I wanted things to end between us. When I first met you, we were both so different, and somewhere along the line we stopped growing together and started growing apart... When we were twenty-six, and both had our own dreams, it felt like we really could do anything. Through the years, we've enjoyed so many good memories together, and that's why it kills me to write this. After everything we've been through, I can't even tell you this in person. Part of me wishes that

As Spencer glanced away from the handwritten letter and to his now vibrating phone, he became aware of the tears in his eyes. Quickly, he wiped his face with the wadded-up napkin sitting on the table and looked at the number. While he didn’t recognize the ID itself, he picked up when seeing the 754 Fort Lauderdale area code. 

Hello? Spencer answered.  

Good morning, I was looking to speak with Mr. Donovan? Said the voice on the other line.

May I ask who's calling? Spencer replied with a sigh.

Yes, this is doctor Monroe from Fort Lauderdale Hospital, said the voice on the other line.

Oh, this is Spencer Donovan. How can I help you, doctor?

I was calling regarding your father, Seth Donovan. There was a long pause before the doctor continued.

I'm sorry that there's no easy way to start this conversation. Last week, your father came in for some follow-up tests from his last physical. As you may or may not know, your father hasn't had a physical, or blood work drawn in quite some time. She paused for a moment. "There were several spots on the film that came back, and we wanted to run some follow-up tests. The tests found melanoma cancer, which is essentially skin cancer, and unfortunately, it's in stage four. I'm so sorry to be the one t-

At this, Spencer cut off the doctor, replying, I don't understand. I spoke to him just last week. He said he seemed perfectly healthy and said that things were going well. How can something like this just sneak up out of nowhere? Not for nothing, but I think it would be better to get a second opinion from another facility.

After an awkward moment, the doctor replied. I'm sorry, Mr. Donovan. I know this is a lot to take in. I assure you that we've done, and will continue to do every test possible to make sure your father is as comfortable as possible. As I said, the cancer is in stage four; I'm afraid that he doesn't have much time left. I haven't been able to get a hold of your brother, Justin. I tried calling him, but it said that his voicemail was full.

Uh... I'm sorry... Spencer muttered. I... I could have someone try to call him, he added, trailing off. Is my father still at the hospital? Is there any way that I could talk to him?

Yes, he's still at the hospital, Dr. Monroe started. Her voice was softer now. But unfortunately, we're in the middle of running further tests with him, so it'll be a while before you can talk to him. 

Spencer let out a long exhale, and fell back onto the sofa. "I understand. I don't know what to say. Is there anything I can do?" Spencer asked, desperation filling his voice now.

Unfortunately, there's not much that can be done at this point. As I said, we'll continue to do everything we can to make your father comfortable. Doctor Monroe repeated. 

I'll do my best to get down there as quickly as I can, but it might take me a day or so. I'm going to have to tell work something, but I'll do what I can to fly down tomorrow. Spencer stammered.

I think that's a good idea. I'm sure he'll want to see you, Dr. Monroe said, softly. Would you like me to try reaching your brother again?

Spencer hesitated briefly, quickly weighing his options. Yes, please. I'll have someone try to contact him on my end as well, but I'm sure you would be able to explain everything better to him. Can you please keep me updated on any progress? Any at all? You can reach me on this number Spencer asked. 

Of course, I will. I'm so sorry for what you're going through, Mr. Donovan. I'll contact you personally of any developments. Doctor Monroe promised.

Thank you so much. I'll be down there as soon as possible. I'll talk to you soon. Spencer said before hanging up. 

Spencer took a long pull from the half empty glass of whiskey and melting ice, which seemed like he filled hours ago. Slowly getting up off the couch, he started pacing around the living room, thinking of how life can change so quickly. After his third pass of the table, Spencer bent down and drained what was remaining in his glass; all of the ice had now melted into the diluted whiskey. He felt the burn in his throat as he refilled the glass and put down the bottle, his hand shaking slightly now. 

Memories of his dad filled his mind as he tried to think about everything the doctor had just told him. At the age of sixty-eight, Spencer still considered his father Seth Donovan, a young man. The man exercised; he took care of himself. It seemed impossible that life could come and go in a blink of an eye like this. 

Spencer swallowed the whiskey from his glass again and winced as it went down. There was no ice in the glass to absorb the harshness of the drink now, and truth be told, that was how he liked it. 

After a couple of minutes procrastinating and lost in thought, Spencer went to his room and grabbed his old green hoodie and threw it on. The weather in Buffalo New York was changing on this mid-October day, and this afternoon was unusually chilly. He opened the door and headed down the street taking the one mile journey to the local bar that he worked at part-time. He thought the walk would do him good to clear his now foggy mind, and the air felt surprisingly refreshing on his face. 

As he passed the Tim Hortons on the corner, Spencer thought back to the first time he had met his wife Lady for coffee there. Even now, passing by that coffee shop brought back a nostalgia that can only be reproduced through sounds and smells.

He wandered aimlessly for the next fifteen minutes, thinking about everything that's happened to him in the last twenty-four hours. Lost in thought, Spencer turned the corner to meet the bar entrance; he stopped briefly and glanced at the near empty parking lot, and he wondered in what kind of a mood he'd find John Sweeny, the owner of Lenny's Lounge, on such a slow afternoon. As he approached the old wooden door leading inside Lenny's, a scraggily light-haired man dressed in a dirty, yet surprisingly bright orange windbreaker jacket and matching sweatpants pants came up to him.

Hey, buddy. Nice weather we have today, huh? The stranger said to Spencer. Spencer slowed his pace but didn't stop. 

"It's gonna rain," Spencer muttered to the man and reached for the door.  

Hey bro, can you spare a few bucks? I need to get some bus fare, so I can get downtown.

Sorry... bro... I can't help you. I'm running late to a meeting. Spencer replied through gritted teeth.

"Come on, bro, you're going to a bar, what kind of asshole do you think I am?" The homeless man shot back.

Listen, Orange. I can't help you, Spencer spat back, anger visible on his face now. I have a lot of crap going on right now, and now really isn't a good time to dick around with me, ok?!?

The homeless man grunted a sign of frustration and moved away from the bar before Spencer entered the door to Lenny's Lounge. As Spencer assumed, the bar was dead except for a young couple sitting at the end next to a broken jukebox and a dart board, and behind the bar was an old, balding white man in his late sixties.

The man waved to Spencer after he looked up from the clipboard he was holding. Hey, what's going on, Spence? I thought that Stephen was working tonight? Don't tell me he had another 'meeting' with that woman at his school. The old bartender used air quotes on the word meeting, and started to laugh. 

No, John. I had to come in here to talk to about something else. Spencer started. Do you have a couple of minutes we could talk privately? Maybe in your office?

John looked around the empty bar with a bemused expression on his face. I don't like the sound of this already, Spence. 

John walked to the end of the bar and asked the young couple if they'd need anything in the next couple minutes, and then led Spencer to the office in the back of the bar.

Take a seat, Spence. What's going on that was so important that you needed to take me away from all my customers? John joked, though there was a guarded tone in his voice.

Spencer sat nervously in the seat in front of John fidgeting with the drawstring hanging from his hoodie.

I was sitting at home just now, and I got a call from the hospital in Fort Lauderdale, Spencer said, doing his best to keep his voice level. My dad moved down there about six months ago. I'm sorry, man this is kind of hard to talk about. Apparently, he went in last week for some tests, and the just found out he's been diagnosed with melanoma cancer, and it's stage four. Spencer inhaled deeply, trying and losing the battle to keeping his composure.

The doctor told me he doesn't have much time left, so I was really hoping to get an extended time off work so I can fly out and be with him, Spencer said.

A silence fell between them as John looked at Spencer and then at the door; the bell on the front door just rang as it opened. Christ, Spencer... John paused. I'll be right with you! John yelled to the newcomer at the bar, and then asked in a hesitant voice, Is there anything that can be done?

Spencer just shook his head, trying to find his voice, but failing.  

I'm really sorry about your father, man. I don't know how something like that just happens out of the blue like that. The old man leaned forward in his chair, pausing as if searching for the correct words. Not to sound like an insensitive dick here, but if you leave for an extended time you'd be putting us in a tight spot here, John said hesitantly. 

Spencer hung his head and spoke, not looking at John. I understand man, but I just found out about this. There's not much I can do. I need this, Johnny. I know I haven't been as good of a son to him since he moved, but he's always, always been there for me. I need to fly out there. Spencer pleaded as John shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the other side of his desk. 

John looked at Spencer through sad eyes, realizing that one way or another Spencer was going to leave him. 

I'll make a couple of calls, John told him. It won't be easy, but you've been an important part of this place for a while now. I know you're not making this decision lightly, and I know if I were in your spot, I'd do the same thing. 

Spencer looked up at his folded hands and looked John in the eyes. 

Thank you so much, man. You're a real lifesaver, Johnny. 

John smiled at Spencer in that way old friends did when they told a joke only the other one would get.

It's okay, Spencer. Just go be with your dad and give me a call when you're coming back. Between Stephen, Angie, Ellie, and myself, we should be able to hold down the fort. Maybe I'll even call ol' Charlie to see if he'll pick up a couple of shifts. 

Spencer let out a tired laugh. Charlie?? Have you even talked to him since he passed out in the keg room last New Year's Eve? Man, I wish I was there to see that. 

Johnny snorted at this. "Okay... Maybe I won't call Charlie to see if he'll pick up those shifts. Go on, and get out of here. You probably have some packing to do, don't you?" 

Spencer got up and shook John's hand. Thanks again, John. I owe you one. And with that Spencer left the back room and headed for the door at the front of the bar. 

As Spencer exited Lenny's, and his mind a little lighter, he appreciated the brisk afternoon air rushing on his face. As he started walking back to the house, he looked at his watch; it was a little after 4:00 pm now, and he realized his best friend Wayne would be on his way home from work by this point. Lost in thought, Spencer pulled his hood up as he continued down the street. It was almost 4:30 when he approached their house. Wayne was getting out of his car and greeted Spencer with a firm handshake. 

Hey, buddy. What's going on? Out for a little stroll, are you? Wayne asked smiling at him.

Spencer sighed. I'm on my way back from Lenny's, actually. 

Wayne looked at Spencer with a quizzical look. I thought you told me that you weren't working today? Stop in for a couple drinks, did you? Wayne teased.

Let's go inside, man. I've gotta talk to you about a couple of things. Spencer said with a sigh. 

Spencer followed Wayne into his house and closed the door behind them. What's going on, buddy? You don't look so good, Wayne asked with mild concern running across his face.

"It's been a