A Spaceman

Chapter 25--Don't cry for me

"Why does it hurt all the time?" Shannon asks, curling into the curve of my body as we lie on her bed, full clothed, lacking the motivation to do what must be done.

"Because you have a kind heart," I say, running my fingers through her rough, curly hair, "I'm sorry. Nothing like that should happen to you."

"It's okay," she says, leaning against me, "It's not, but it is. But you help."

"Then I'll be here to help," I say kissing the top of her head, "Come on, you should go to work, the hospital needs you. You have patients who need you."

"Yeah," she sighs, "I could lie here forever."

"I could hold you forever and a day, but we have forever," I say.

"Or until you finally get arrested," she says, smiling and kissing me.

"I'll never be caught," I promise.

"Okay, you're right, I should go to work," she says, sitting up.

"I've just got to go and get some things for the hotel----I'm against me staying here—"

"You're staying here," she says, flatly, "I can't do without you that long."

"As you wish," I say, sitting up as well and putting an arm around her, "I'll bring you lunch at work, okay? Completely vegetarian."

"It had better be," she says, cracking a smile.

"I can be a good boy sometimes," I say, pressing my face against hers.

"Only sometimes? I would've thought it was rarely."

"Let's go with at frequent intervals."

"Yes, let's."

**

"You awake?" my mother puts a cold hand on my cheek.

"Yeah, so's chubby beggar," I say, opening my eyes. Dasha babbles happily in my arms as I lie on the bed. My mum was just taking a shower while I minded the small and fat person.

"You gonna come down to breakfast?" she asks, sitting next to me on the bed. It's not a good bed, but it's a decent room. And I'm safe. And they're safe. I threw my official tablet and wrist pad to the nearest Space Forces person and asked where base lodging was. They are still playing those, apparently. I'll tell them what I want them to know later. I don't feel like it now I'm so tired.

"I'm not hungry," I say.

"I used to be angry with you. Because you're going to die. But if you would rather die, because this is so hard then that's okay," she says, stroking my hair.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"It's okay. I won't call for an ambulance if you don't want me to. You can die here," she says, "I'll stay with you."

"Okay," I say, closing my eyes again and lying my head back.

"Do you want me to call them?"

"No," I say, softly, "I don't."

"Shh," she strokes my head as I drift off to sleep.

**

"Where's my daughter?" I ask, standing at the counter where apparently I've been supposed to check in at for the last sixteen years. Okay I think I did it when she was an infant. Once. But after that I just forgot.

"You can't see her now," one of the little old women says.

"Why not? Where is she?" I ask, feeling a vein pulse in my neck and my stomach drop.