after all

They climbed down the stairs together and she leaned on him for support after a few steps worth of trying on her own. The air was a little wet and their faces were a little dewy. The weather was inparticular save for the blandness of it. Her face was peakish and his was vaguely determined. They both believed they were thinking about the same thing.

She began.

:Do you want to talk about it?

:We don't have to jump right into it.

:Sure, I just think it's time.

:I don't think we're there just yet.

:It would only be talking.

:I know, but doesn't talking about it just feel like it pushes things forward?

:Things?

:Did you see my letter in your book?

:Yes. It was very cute. Not sure how much it's helping anything but it was cute.

:You don't have to say things like that. It helped me to write it. Everything helps.

:Nothing helps.

:You know what would really help...

:I'm not sure I do. 

:Sure you do.

:I'm sure I don't. 

:Maybe a little optimism.

She took a deep breath.

:Fine.

:What did we say about "Fine"?

:We said it was fine.

He stared.

:You agreed to no more "Fine." And I agreed to let you finish every sentence you start.

:Thank y-

:Starting now.

:Funny.

:Yes but when you say the word "funny" it seems not funny at all. Like maybe you should just act like it was funny. Do that thing we used to do when we were kids... what's it called... laugh.

:I still laugh.

:That makes sense. I'm still hilarious.

:As ever.

:I'm rubbing off on you.

:Hardly.

:You said something really cute on this street in the beginning of everything, do you remember it?

:How cute could it have been if you don't rem-

:Oh I remember it, I just don't know if you remember it.

:Ahem.

:Sorry I'm excited now. I'm interrupting for different reasons. That's some form of progress, no?

:More like some form of metastasis. 

He winced.

:Oof. Dark.

:Coffee shop?

:Coffee shop.

:And a bagel?

:You feel up to a bagel?

:I could chew through a manhole cover if it tasted like bagel. 

:Have I ever told you how much I enjoy that image?

:You've thought of that before?

:Do you remember what you said I liked so much?

:Give me a minute, still a little foggy.

:I don't think it was a bagel I think it was pizza. Pizza at that place with the hospital prison cafeteria vibe.

:I remember what I said.

:What was it?

:It wasn't manhole related.

:No, I guess it wasn't.

:It had nothing to do with-

:OK I know I just love it so I much.

She stared again.

:Just say it. 

:I said a calzone seems like too much work when pizza gives you everything all at once.

:And I said I would eat calzone with calzone inside to get to calzone and that's how much I love calzone.

:I didn't believe.

:You were skeptical.

:I still am, just not about calzone.

:Just calzone. Like pizza, no s at the end. And now?

:Now I can't remember the last time I had a slice of pizza on purpose.

:See how right I was? I'm just sayin... optimism. 

:When was the last time we ordered a pizza?

:Does calzone count?

:I remember that. That was two weeks ago after the doctor and I couldn't eat it.

:They should make a breakfast calzone for days like today.

:Like a bagely shell filled with cream cheese lox and capers?

:Yes.

:I think you'd have to bake it and then-

:Don't tell me all the reasons it couldn't happen. Tell me how you plan on breathing something beautiful into the world.

:What would you even call it?

:It's your invention.

:The cream cheese would turn to goop.

:DEEP FRIED ICE CREAM.

:How hungry ARE you?

:No, I mean you can deep fry ice cream which you'd think would turn the ice cream to goop but it works somehow.

:So you're saying-

:You know exactly what I'm saying.

She stared harder.

:Ok I'm sorry again, but spell it out.

:You're saying that by using the same technique as deep fried ice cream-

:Perfected by Scottish food scientists in the latter half of the twentieth century.

:-you could somehow deep fry-

:Yes.

:-a bagel type dough

:Just say dough

:Deep fry some dough-

:Actually don't say dough because they just say deep fried ice cream. So when I heard about deep fried Snickers I thought it was just plop a candy bar in some hot oil. I had no idea dough was involved. I tried doing it at one of my first jobs. Huge mess. 

:I think it's a Mars bar. Anyway, deep fried lox. That sounds better than deep fried cream cheese. And I'm no Scottish food scientist but I think it's batter not dough.

:What's the difference?

:Really? What's bagel made of and what's pancake made of?

:I get it now.

:Ever hear of pizza batter?

:You always had a way of explaining things in a way that my big dumb idiot brain had an easy time with.

:Some say I still do, after all. That's the kind of self-deprecation I like to hear from an ego-maniac such as yourself.

:I'd like to think all genius as conspicuous as mine should be seasoned with self-deprecation to make it more palatable for lesser beings.

:You didn't know the difference between batter and dough.

:I know there's a difference between a neutron and a nucleus.

:But you don't know the difference.

:Course not. Are we still getting calzone later?

:Let's see how I feel after coffee and bagel.

:How has your appetite been?

She hesitated.

:Fine. 

:Did you have any of that fruit?

:I said "Fine." Capital F.

:Hmmph.

She stopped walking to say this- 

:Don't mother me. You don't have to mother me.

:It's hard not to care.

She started walking again

:I'm sorry. Care away. I never needed a mother and I never wanted one.

:To be fair you barely had one. 

:Sure I did. Unofficially.

:Your dad's permanent girlfriend doesn't count.

:She kind of counts.

:You never really talk about her.

:Nobody does. Plus she never really talks about me.

:I guess it did seem a little quick.

:She was at the funeral.

:She was at the funeral.

:It was too much.

:I mean he was down.

:Of course he was down. He was grieving.

:I mean there's what happened after the funeral and yeah, things did seem a little far along.

:Careful.

:So with all the grace I can muster for the man-

:He doesn't deserve it.

:I can't help but feel for him.

:Stop.

He stopped walking and put his hand on her arm. :Keep walking, stop talking.

:It's just there's the loss of your mom and there's everything that happened leading up to it.

She stopped.

:What exactly are you talking about?

:Forget it.

He started walking. She did not. 

:I will not.

:Let's get the coffees and bagels. 

:And then what? Eat in awkward silence while I load my gun under the table?

:You can't eat a bagel and load a gun at the same time your training never covered that.

:Say what you need to say.

:I don't need to say it.

:I think you do.

:It's just something I thought about.

:Think out loud.

:Have you called your father?

:He doesn't have a cell phone.

:So?

:So if she picks up I'm gonna scream and I don't think I should put myself through that sort of stress.

:Okay, but if you talk to him that's a big one off the bucket list.

Her words were sharper now.

:The fuck do you care?

:List is important.

:No. About him. Why?

:Can we please coffee and bagel a little first? We're like three blocks away.

She stopped at a ledge that worked as a bench. :Sit with me.

He knew it had gotten away from him. :God damnit.

:Speak.

:Did you ever swear to yourself you wouldn't turn into your parents?

:Never needed to.

:Are you sure?

:Sure enough.

:Well it happens. 

:You feel like you're turning into your father?

:I feel like I'm turning into yours.

:You're the one who took off work. I never asked you for anything. You don't need to care for me like that. I love you but I don't need you.

:I know what you mean enough to not be hurt by that, but that's not what I meant when I said I'm turning into him.

:How's that?

:I'm sorry, I'm not going to mother or father you.

:What did you mean? How are you going to turn into my father?

A joke flew :Get into Formula 1. Watch more HBO. Jorts.

The joke failed.

:I'm not laughing.

:What else is new?

:Let's go home.

:Do you want me to bring coffee and bagels back?

:No I mean I just want to get the hell home.

:Keep sitting for a second. Don't push it.

:I'm FINE.

:You're not.

She wasn't. She was lightheaded and thought earlier that some food would help and it would but not as much as she might have wanted or needed. He put his hands on her arms to stand.

:You're not. Keep your fucking hands off me I'll get up when I'm ready. Now talk.

:It's fine.

She took a breath to compose herself, half to get him to talk and half because she needed a beat or two. 

:Everything is fine. Okay? Now talk.

He took about the same for about the same reasons.

:I don't know how many people have gone through what I'm going through but I know he has. I haven't been talking to anyone because they either don't care or don't care the way I think they should. I don't talk to you about it because I don't want to burden you. Not when you can barely make the bagel walk.

:So you don't want me to talk to him, you want me to talk to him so you can talk to him.

:Someone should.

:For your sake?

:Is there a word for immediately reducing everyone else's motives to the most self-serving?

:In this case? The word is "Understanding."

:Sure. 

:He's not gonna like you.

:I'll bring him a bagel.

:He'll think you're Jewish.

:So?

:So don't you think it's a little late in the game to make friends with my dad?

:Don't you think it's a little late in the game to try and stop me?

:Maybe it's later than you think.

:Is it? Why? What'd they say?

:They haven't said much lately.

:What did they say?

A car honked somewhere and a crack opened up.

:I don't know. I stopped going.

:Fuck, of course you did. That's why they're calling all the time.

:Yup.

:Why? Is this it?

Real fear had settled in his voice.

:Maybe that's it.

:Y'know, most of the me wanting to talk to your dad isn't just me looking for spiritual guidance. I'm dying here. 

:Come again?

: I'm just... I don't talk to anyone about you. Or I do, but only about you. People ask me how I'm doing and the last thing I want to say is how tough things are. They assume things are tough. And they are. It's not all the things I've come to terms with. It's the bucket list. Having it and not doing anything on it is worse than not having it because it's not we don't want to, it's we can't. And sure, I'm okay with you never seeing the Grand Canyon but I'm not so great with why getting a bagel takes as much effort. I don't talk about me when I talk about you. I barely talk about you when I talk about you, I just give notes like I'm telling the weather.

:Why not?

:I don't want to talk about how joyless and bitter you've gotten because of course. But lately it's more like the joylessness was lying dormant for years and now you can be as joyless as you want because you have the best reason in the world. I thought you had a little edge, but now you're all edge. A knife without a handle actually. So why would I want to talk to your father? Because I've got a sneaking suspicion that you might have more in common with your mother than your tragically short lives. Like maybe you both sucked the life out of the people you loved on your way out. Like maybe I want to know how he moved on so quickly because I feek like I'm not going to make it without you. I can't. I won't. I sit here watching your hair fall out and make the day about deep fried lox and short term plans because the most realistic bucket list just has food I hope you're well enough to feel up for someday. 

It was out now but not fully.

:Sorry bout that buddy but I was never really dying before. This is all kind of new ground for me. Fucking kid. Sorry for ruining your happy life. Should have left you to whatever the hell it was you were doing before we met. Fucking gaming chair. Maybe you should have let me leave when I wanted to. 

:Whatever. I accept your apology. What choice do I have. Not about to double down on my misery with a breakup. I should have let you keep it to yourself and should have left you leave when you pitched it. But I didn't. And you didn't leave so that's that.

:So you're only with me because you feel bad for me? Because we don't need to keep this going. You know how this ends, no sense putting it off.

:I'm with you because I'm with you and maybe seeing you out will give me the closure I need to do the thing you're begging me to do and get on with my life without you.

They had gotten up to walk and were almost immediately stopped at a crosswalk to stand in thick silence. The light changed. He began.

:Let's not put it off.

:Excuse me?

:Let's do it together.

:Do what?

:Take control or something.

:Are you saying what I think your'e saying? 

:I don't even want it to look like an accident.

:I feel like these are my lines. What exactly-

:Stop. Look at me. Hear me. Listen to me. 

She didn't even try.

:No. This is ridiculous

:It's not.

:It is. It's absurd you're being dramatic

:I'm being dramatic but I'm not being absurd. We just have to figure it out.

:There's nothing to figure out.

:Sure there is, you can have everything. 

:For three weeks?

:Three fucking weeks?

He spun and almost stumbled. 

: Give or take.

:That's fine, it doesn't matter anymore.

:What the hell kind of thing is this to ask of someone? Can't you just do it yourself?

:I can't. I want to do it with you. You've got everything going to your father, yes?

:Why?

:Because he needs it more than me, yes?

:So?

:So what I have goes to you and what you have goes to him.

:...

:If I kill myself it he gets much less. But I'm pretty sure if I die he'll get what you'd get eventually.

:This is so fucking dumb. All this for him?

:No. All this for me. I've been to the Grand Canyon.

:Please shut up.

:I won't ever be there again. I thought that the minute I turned my back to it. What happened to six weeks?

:That was three weeks ago.

:Jesus. 

:I don't want to think about this.

:I don't want you to think about it either. I just want you to do it.

:How? How the hell do you even expect me to pull this off? 

:It would make sense.

:I assure you it would not.

:Maybe you hate me.

:Look. I know I've been rough lately but I've never hated you and I could never hate you. Did you read the last letter I left you?

:I didn't. I stopped looking. I thought you forgot about the book.

:I did and I didn't. 

:I didn't.

:I'm sorry. I know, I know, I know. Promises were made.

:It's fine.

:It doesn't feel fine.

:It's never going to.

:Well it was really sweet. 

:You shouldn't have.

She really shouldn't.

:What else is there?

:I've been turning into your father.

:What does that mean?

:It means I think we both have similar coping mechanisms.

:I don't think he coped all that well.

:I think he did okay. You're gonna hate me.

:I couldn't. I need you.

Either of those sentences would have been benign on their own but when struck together the spark of these words set fire a dry patch in his mind that was once a garden. Whatever it was she needed he didn't think it was him and whatever it was he wanted was no longer her. He spoke these words staring into the ground.

:There's something else.

:What?

:There's someone else.

She scoffed.

:Who?

:She wants to stay married and I want her to want to stay married, it's just fun and games I guess, mostly.

Her voice shook for one of two reasons.

:Who?

:It doesn't matter. I thought it would help us. Help me, anyways. Maybe stop counting on you for everything. Get a little attention, no harm no foul. 

:That is some top notch rationalization.

:"Understanding." 

:What kind of monster cheats on a dying woman?

:I thought it would cheer me up. It did. Mostly. I cry just as much. I'm not proud of it. In fact I can barely live with it but that's okay because I don't wanna live for much longer. And I guess you just found out about it. I guess you're so angry you thought you'd do something about it. Doesn't have to be a bullet to the temple. It could be poison. I'm not picky, but we should do it together. Me first, then you.

:This is so fucking dumb. I don't believe you. Who is it? Why don't you just go the whole nine and marry the bitch when I'm gone? My father could give you away.

:I don't want to be around for when you're gone. I want you to kill me.

Spooky this time. Deadpan.

:You're no cheater and I'm no killer.

:So you're thinking about it?

:I'm thinking about how dumb you are. You think I would go through all this just so my dad gets paid out?

:I couldn't care less what happens. I just thought it would make you think about it. 

:This is...

:...tragic. Life was good. Then it wasn't. I've had enough. This works for me.

:You're not old.

:You don't get to be optimistic now. 

She thought about it all. He could have been cheating and she would have forgiven him. She knew he wouldn't kill himself but she had the feeling he actually did want to die. She said something simple so she could say something. 

:I want you to live.

:After all?

:After all. 

:That's not a choice for you to make for me.

:That's not a choice I get to make for either of us.

:Well I wish you would.

She thought about how crass it was for him to want to die in front of someone with no choice at all. She wanted to shake him by the shoulders for a thousand reasons but did not have the energy. Not for this, not for the bagel walk, not for anything. She had watched her mother die and she watched her father hollow out. He would be happy around his daughter and happy around that other woman but never when they were all together so all together rarely happened.

She knew what he meant. She had felt awful and she had been acting awful and she knew he was unhappy but didn't know why it should matter to her despite how much it mattered to her. 

It was a mess. Whether any of what he was saying was true, it was a mess. The other woman? The chain of inheritance nonsense? Who would ask this of anyone? It was unjust. She should be asking. Her pain was tangible while his misery seemed petty and confounded by hopelessness. Still, her light was his light and when it was gone none could say when or if it would return. 

Was this really his plan? Breakfast and suicide pact? It was dumb. It was half baked. It was as half baked as staying with a dying woman. Half baked as the breakfast calzone. It was fatal optimism. It was I can't quit so you must fire me. 

When she looked at him again his face was flat and he knew he had erred somewhere solely on account of the confusion between them. He kissed her silky forehead and held her hand like a wounded bird. 

They had turned around and were approaching the stairs to their building. He picked her up to carry her across the threshold like newlyweds and had to set her down when he dropped his keys. Their fate was uncertain but this would be their last fight. 

It had started raining pretty hard.