Chapter Twelve

Some people are so afraid to die that they never begin to live. - Henry Van

Chapter 12

The last six days of James’s life had been the most incredible of his life. He’d achieved business success, as well as romantic success. He spent the week doing everything he’d wanted to do in life, but had been to afraid to pursue. He’d worked at a soup kitchen, ate Fugu, saw an opera, made love to a beautiful woman in the back of his car, and stayed up late watching movies he’d always wanted to see.

Now that the day Death was going to collect him had arrived, he felt a bit anxious. He was, however, determined to enjoy every last minute that remained of his life.

He disentangled himself from Jill, got out of her bed, and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was determined to make breakfast into a feast that would be recorded in the history books.

Unfortunately, all Jill had in her kitchen was some instant blueberry pancake batter, two eggs and half a slab of bacon. Well, maybe it wouldn’t go down in history as the most amazing breakfast ever, but it could be pretty decent all the same. There was, after all, plenty of coffee.

He got to work making pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Before long, Jill came into the kitchen. She walked up behind him, put her arms around him and kissed the back of his neck.

“Good morning, lover,” she said.

“Good morning! I hope you slept OK,” James said.

Jill winked at him and said, “Feels like I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Well, I wonder if there’s anything we can do after breakfast to help perk you up,” James said.

Sarah giggled, and poured herself some coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table, raised her arms over her head and stretched.

“I didn’t know you were a cook,” she said, watching him.

“Oh, I can do all kinds of fantastic things. Cooking, windows, inventing miracle drugs. You name it, I’ve got a hand in it.”

James divided up the pancakes, bacon and eggs between two plates and carried them over to the table. He set a plate in front of Jill, then sat with his own plate.

“So, what are we going to do today, James? I can’t believe how busy you’ve kept me recently. I didn’t know you even had any interests outside of work,” Jill said.

“I’ve got lots of interests. Lots,” he said and winked at her. “I think today we’ll go to the Metropolitan Art Museum, then out for dinner at this great Thai place I know. Then maybe a little star-gazing in the park. What do you think?”

“Sounds lovely,” Jill said. “Wow, these pancakes are fantastic. How did you make a cheap mix taste so good?”

“Lots of butter and high heat,” James said. “It makes the outside a little extra crusty.”

“Well, yum.”

After breakfast and an unusually pleasant shower shared between James and Jill, they left Jill’s house and drove to the Metropolitan Art Museum downtown. The featured show was “Dada and Industrial Design.”

“This is utter crap,” Jill said.

“Agreed,” James said.

The permanent exhibits were chock full of more traditional interpretations of “art,” including a still-life of meat that made James a little sick to his stomach.

“Look at the striations in the flesh!” Jill said. “It must have taken weeks to get this kind of realism.”

James smiled and said, “yes, it’s fantastic. Let’s move on.”

After they had strolled through the entire museum, and then revisited their favorite pieces, they left and went to get dinner.

The restaurant was dark and smelled of curry and pepper. The waitress spoke to them in clipped tones as they ordered.

“So, if I told you last Thursday that your entire life was going to be turned around by today, would you have believed it?” Jill asked James.

“No. I probably would have observed you out of the corner of my eye for the next week or so until I had decided whether or not there would be grounds to have you involuntarily committed.”

Jill laughed. “It’s been an incredible week.”

“Yes, yes it has,” James said, a little wistfully. It was currently six fifteen, which meant he had less than four hours to live. So far, it had been a pretty good last day, he had to admit.

After they had eaten their fill of yellow curry and pad thai, and shared a bowl of coconut ice cream, James paid the bill and they left the restaurant.

“I want to show you this cool spot I’ve always liked,” James said as they drove. “There’s something magical about it.”

“Magic, huh? I didn’t know you went in for such things.”

“A guy can be good at science and still hope for magic,” James said.

They reached the park in about thirty minutes. The sun was just setting, but there was plenty of light to see where they were. James drove across a charming stone bridge that crossed a rushing creek, and turned left. The road twisted and climbed up a hill until the reached the top. James pulled to one side of the road and stopped the car. The two of them got out of the car.

“James, it’s incredible!”

In front of them, they could see the sun as it slid ever closer to the horizon on the far side of a lake. The last remaining light bounced and reflected off the waves on the lake.

James got a blanket out of the trunk of his car, and spread it out on the ground in so they could watch the sun set and wait for the stars to come out.

Soon enough, it was dark out. It was a moonless night, and they laid on the blanket staring up at the stars. They could see the Milky Way. Jill snuggled up to James. She was warm, and soft, and smelled nice.

James was content, and calmly waited for Death to arrive.

Midnight came and went, and James realized Jill had fallen asleep when he heard her gently snoring next to him. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do. Should he risk driving her home? What if Death came for him on the freeway? The two of them couldn’t stay there all night. It was getting cold, and he only had one more blanket to keep them warm.

He decided it would be best to take the risk and drive Jill home. After all, Death wouldn’t collect her unless it was her time, he hoped, so it was silly to think he could do anything to protect her.

He rubbed her back until she woke up, and quietly told her it was probably time for them to head home. They got up, and James folded the blanket and put it back in the trunk of the car. Then they got in, and he drove her back to her house.

The drive was entirely uneventful.

When they arrived, Jill insisted that he come in for the night.

“I don’t want to over stay my welcome,” he said. Really, he’d realized that up and dying next to his new girlfriend would probably leave her a little traumatized, and maybe he should use his continued, untimely aliveness to protect her a little bit.

“James, get your ass in my house and into my bed. Don’t make me club you and drag you in, because I’m tired and it will make me cranky.”

He couldn’t argue with logic like that, so he followed her to bed. The two of them stripped off their clothes, and fell into Jill’s bed, utterly exhausted.

The two of them slept like the dead.

No one, except James, was surprised he woke up on Sunday morning. Jill was not in bed with him, but he could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. The clock next to her bed informed him that it was eleven thirty in the morning.

How can this be? James wondered. Death had struck him as the punctual type, what with the stopwatch and checklist and detailed plan for his previous death.

He got out of bed, put on the blue terrycloth robe with big pink flowers that Jill had apparently left out for him, and went out to the kitchen to see what smelled so good.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Jill said and smiled at him. “While you were zonked out, I went to the store and got some more breakfast makings. I hope you like ham and cheese omelettes, and fresh orange juice.”

“I love them,” James said. He rubbed the side of his face and smiled. He realized he was supremely happy. He was close to giggling.

He had a thought then. He realized he had absolutely no idea how much longer he’d be alive. It occurred to him that he might live for ten more minutes, or thirty more years. He decided that he would live every moment he had to the fullest.