One Last November -- side story #1

Hello everyone. Just a small note before the story: this is just a small look at the life Jake lived back on Earth & a glimpse into his life with Yasmine. It has no meaningful lore connection to the ongoing narrative & it's just there to kind of provide context for the curious. If you're not interested, you don't have to force yourself to read just in case it somehow connects to the current story as it doesn't ^^

It was cold.
So damn cold.

Even though it was nowhere near as windy as it was yesterday, I couldn’t help but shake as I held the cig against my lips and took in a lungful. The fog—or smog—had descended like a curtain over the city, and I could only make out a few dozen indeterminate specks of light. The roars of passing engines, though, were ever-present, even if it was well past ten.

I told her I’d quit, and I will… eventually. For now, I needed them.

Just as I was about to take in another lungful, I heard the balcony doors creak; my instinct kicked in as I flicked the cig over the railing before spinning around. She pushed open the doors and walked out, wearing a thick winter jacket, a scarf, and her favorite red hat that I bought her on our second date.

“Did I see some smoke here?” she asked, as though she didn’t know.

“Nah, just my breath. Really cold out here.”

“So, if I kissed you right now, I wouldn’t want to vomit right after?” She walked up close and grabbed my arm.

“Better not take any chances, I say.”

“Smooth,” she chuckled. Her face had gotten as pale as snow these past few months, and even now, in the cold, there was barely any rosiness in her cheeks. “You keep breaking all the promises you make. It ain’t cool, dude.”

“…it’s cold. Let’s go back inside.”

“Ah, let me have it. For a moment, at least,” she pushed back. “I just wish we could see anything but the damn fog.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, enduring. She didn’t like it when I went all satellite-mom on her, though with how reckless she gets…

We fell silent for a while, staring out over the railing into the big, white nothing. Two cars roared past on the road below us, though I barely registered them. My mind kept going back to our first winter together, when she really wanted to go skiing despite never having skied before (something she failed to mention). But on the day we were supposed to go, I got a sky-high fever. All I remember is spending a full week in a haze—and that she was there with me every single day.

“I’m worried, Jake,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Worried about what?”

“About how you’ll do once I’m gone.”

“…I’ll do just fine,” I replied.

“Oh, how I wish I could believe that in the slightest.” She craned her neck and looked up at me.

“If you don’t believe it, then don’t go.”

“Hm. You know, when we first started dating, I didn’t think we’d last.” She looked away again, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You were a bit flippant. I was certain we’d have some fun, I’d fall madly in love with you, and then you’d cheat on me with some yoga instructor named Wendy.”

“That’s very specific.”

“So, from the start, I loved you with half my heart, and the other half was building a shield for when you inevitably broke the first. But… you never did.”

“… ”

“I found my forever-dude, I thought. Just wish our forever was a bit longer.”

“…you don’t know that. Maybe you’ll get approved. Dr. Lutnick said he’ll do everything he can to get you in.”

“Yes, I was in that room with you. Gosh, just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I’m forgetting everything. If you remember that, then you must also remember what he said right after it, no? What was it? Ah, right—something about getting our affairs in order. Just in case.”

“Well, sorry for trying to believe.”

“No, don’t be. I love that about you. Somehow, this man who fronts cynicism and skepticism like it’s his religion… I’ve made him believe. Of all my accomplishments—which, in fairness, aren’t that many—that might be my biggest one.”

“Isn’t that a reason enough to live on? How can you die with that being your biggest accomplishment?”

“Pfft, ha ha, alright. Fair enough. You always did know just what to say to make my sides hurt. Hey, Jake.” Her voice grew deeper, her tone duller.

“Hm?”

“Promise me you’ll be fine.”

“Yas’, I—”

“Promise me,” she said. “I… I used to be afraid of dying. Horribly afraid. When I first got diagnosed, I felt fear the likes of which I never had before. But… I’ve made my peace with it, for better or worse. You neither seem willing nor ready to do it. And, believe it or not, I understand. If, God forbid, the roles were swapped, I’d be trekking the most remote reaches of Africa looking for a cure. I’d be inconsolable—completely and utterly broken.”

“Then you know—”

“But you’re not allowed to.”

“H-huh?”

“You can grieve and you can mourn,” she said. “And you can tell anyone who asks that I was the baddest babe west of New York, but”—she emphasized as we both stifled our laughter—“you’re not allowed to break. You’re not allowed to become malformed. You’re the best guy in the world, and other girls shouldn’t suffer just ’cause I got my claws on you first. So, promise me. Please. That you’ll be fine.”

“…you know I can’t do that.”

“Then lie.”

“I can’t do that either.”

“What a dick.”

“Pfft, I guess I am. If you get to go, then I get to decide what to do after.”

“Lots of drinking and partying?”

“Lots of drinking, yes,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“I promised I’d never hurt you,” she said, looking up at me. “And it looks like I’ll hurt you more than I could have possibly imagined.”

“…it’s cold,” I said. “Let’s go back inside.”

“And have wild, animalistic, all-night-long sex?”

“And have a very nice, warm, loving cuddle under a blanket.”

“You’d deny a dying woman her right to get some good dick one last time? Wow, Jake. Maybe you’re not the man I thought you were.”

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Her laughter rang like a song as we went back inside, the warmth of the room blasting against my cheeks.

Even that little excursion was enough to get her winded; she collapsed onto the couch, gasping, without even taking her clothes off. I walked over and helped her, my fingers as heavy as stone.

I’m not ready.

If I had a hundred years, I still wouldn’t be ready.

Rather, is it even the kind of thing you can be ready for? Perhaps if we were old and I were going right after her.

“You look glum,” she said. “More than usual, I mean.”

“Just tired,” I said as I put away her jacket. “You want anything to eat?”

“Nah. I’d just get sick, I think. I miss having food and not seeing it shoot out of me five minutes later.”

“You haven’t eaten anything today. Maybe a smoothie?”

“Forget about that. Sit with me,” she said, and from the look on her face, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Giving up, I walked over and sat down on the couch. She immediately plopped her head onto my lap.

She didn’t speak, and neither did I. Though we faced the TV, it wasn’t on.

Perhaps a minute passed. I looked down, only to see she’d fallen asleep. It wasn’t unusual—especially recently. She slept most of the day.

I stayed as still as a statue and as silent as a monk who’d taken a vow of silence.

I’m not ready.
I never will be.