Terminal (7)

January 29, 2009 Writer’s Cramp entry.
Prompt: Write a short story or poem about someone who knows this birthday is their last one on Earth. How do they celebrate their final year???

Terminal

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller. The results leave no doubt. You have a malignant tumor in your brain. It’s inoperable. An optimistic prognosis gives you about one more year to live.”

Conrad stared at the oncologist. His 31st birthday was going to be his last, if he lived to see the day. He didn’t cry or show much emotion as the death sentence was handed to him. He drove home and took a good look around. This mansion and a fat pension is what his wife, Brianna, would have left from him.

Brianna waited anxiously for the news. She knew there was cancer, but not to what extent. Their seven-year old son, Brett, was on a play date. Home alone with his wife, Conrad wanted only one thing, to get laid.

“Do you really think this is the right time?” Brianna asked.

Conrad growled, “I’ll be dead soon enough. Can’t you pretend to be a loving wife for a few more months?”

“I love you! I worry for you! What if the exertion hurts you?”

“Hurt me? Woman, I’m dying!” Conrad gave her a furious glare and stormed out of the house.

He drove across town to a modest neighborhood with apartment buildings. He stopped outside of his assistant’s home. On the third floor, he knocked on the door.

“Mr. Miller! How are the results?” Kathy asked him concerned.

Conrad didn’t answer her question directly. He stepped inside and hugged her tightly. She was small next to his tall 6’2” frame. Smelling her, feeling her, softened his tough outer appearance. He sobbed very briefly and said choked, “Don’t ever call me Mr. Miller again. I’m Conrad.”

Kathy hugged him back. She instantly knew the news were very bad. She softly whispered, “Ok, Conrad.”

They stood silent for minutes before walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch. Kathy looked concerned at him, waiting to be told how bad it was.

“I’m staying with you until it gets too bad. Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to care for me when I’m high on morphine. But, until then, you and I are going to live what we’ve both wanted for years. I’m not wasting my last months on Earth pretending everything is perfect with Brianna.”

Kathy wasn’t stoic. She had very little coping skills. She sank crying against him. He held her until she stopped crying. He smiled lopsided. “Now we’ve both cried. It’s time we start having fun. I don’t have much of it left.”

He picked her up and carried her to her bedroom.

425 words