A Spaceman

Chapter 31--To be happy

"How was your day?" Shannon asks, as we sit over breakfast. "Night, really?"

"Squibs was being his usual self," I say, sipping my tea, "Other than that, fine, it's one of my cancer patient's last days."

"That's sad," Bridget says.

"It's part of life," I say, shrugging, "We'll all die someday."

"Still, so small—I don't know how either of you can do it," Bridget says.

"We have to take comfort that we are helping them through a part of their life that is hard for them, if we can make them physically comfortable, as much as possible, and give them knowledge about what is going on, it's more than they had before," Shannon explains.

"Yeah, but still, I'd get too sad," Bridget says, standing up and picking up her backpack.

"I don't get sad ;I refuse, like growing up," I say, leaning back.

"Come on, you're walking us to work and school, or do you refuse to do that as well?" Shannon asks, shaking my shoulder.

"No, I'll comply I felt like a walk," I say, standing obediently.

**

Shit that's what he says when he's thinking about murdering and eating somebody I have to follow him, then.

**

"Wake up," I say, shaking Quentin's shoulder. (wake up)

"And you say an infant will get us up early---what is it Lizzie?" he asks, rolling over a little.

"It will, what is it, sweety?" Jo asks, sitting up as well.

"Look," I say, raising a hand and sucking a knife right up through my fingers so it looks like it's about to stab my skin.

"Wonderful, I'm really impressed, can you not do that again?" he asks.

"Yeah, talented as you are let's not play with knives," Jo says, taking the knife gingerly.

"That took ages," I say, flopping back.

"And it's really cool but if I've said it once I've said it a hundred times I am too old to be cleaning your blood up off the floor so you'd better stay in one piece," Quentin says, pushing himself up, "How long've you been up?"

"We just don't want you to get hurt," Jo says.

"She doesn't want you to get hurt, I seriously don't want to have to make her clean blood up off the floor," Quentin says, stretching and reaching for his legs. I move them into his hands. "Thank you," he says, nodding politely.

"Promise? I know you can control it but people hurt themselves all the time by accident, just walking for example," Jo says.

"Oh, yeah, did I ever tell you guys about the time I tripped on our flight's run and like eighty people ran right past my body lying in the middle of the path?" Quentin asks.

"No, what happened?" Jo asks.

"Like eighty people ran past my body lying in the middle of the path," he says.

"Point being, practice on something safer," Jo says, brushing my hair out of my face, "Okay?"

"Okay," I mutter.

"What was that? Couldn't hear you---better squeeze her," Quentin says, grabbing my feet and squeezing them.

"Stop it," I giggle, throwing a pillow at him.