Until the End of the World Box Set

by Sarah Lyons Fleming

  “Poop. We made you a jar of poop,” Peter says, which sends the kids into hysterics.

  I dip in a finger and groan in pleasure at the buttery caramel but screw the cap closed before I eat it all. “That’s good poop. Thank you.”

  “I told you I’d make you caramel sauce one day.”

  And I told you I’d love you forever if you did, I don’t say back. I’m sure he doesn’t remember. “Wait!” I say as he hands me a jewelry box. “You have to open your other two.”

  He unwraps the espresso maker and then the box with the espresso beans I hoarded, of which there are more at Nelly’s. I hold up the caramel sauce and bounce. “I see a caramel macchiato in my future!”

  “Hey, is this present for me or for you?” Peter turns the espresso machine over in his hands and smiles. “You were right when you said to keep it. Thank you.” I’d hoped he would remember our conversation in the RV. He points to the box in my hand. “It’s just a silly present. I found it in Anchorage.”

  Under the lid is a silver half of a heart on a bed of cotton. It says Best and has a few tiny cut-out stars. The edge where the other half of the heart would be is curved, waiting for its mate.

  “It has stars, so I couldn’t resist.” Peter digs in his jeans and pulls out the half that says Friends. “I keep it in my pocket.”

  I smile in thanks, but my throat closes so that I can’t say a word.

  “I want one for me and Hank,” Bits says.

  “Only if I can keep it in my pocket,” Hank says. “You must be crazy if you think I’m wearing a heart necklace.”

  Peter laughs at the exchange. I head to the bedroom before anyone sees my tears, but Peter is there a minute later. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought it would be funny.”

  “It’s not funny.” I touch his arm when his face tightens. “It means more than you know.”

  It’s as much as I can say without treading into dangerous waters. My heart is full. It’s grown back like that lizard’s tail, but it’s not a shoddy facsimile. It’s different for sure, but it’s better.

  “I heard what you said to Hank. I know you’re right, but it’s hard to do.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

  “It is,” I whisper. It’s a mixture of betrayal of the person who’s gone and the fear that you’ll lose the next person, too. I know it well—I still have the fear, if not the betrayal. “Thank you. Really. Thank you. Sorry I’m such a nincompoop.”

  “You’re not a nincompoop.” He takes my chin and looks into my eyes. “You’re a weirdo.”

  I’m so surprised that I laugh. I’m even more surprised when he kisses me softly on the lips, then smiles and walks out.

  We’re all full to bursting. The turkey has been reduced to bones and all the dishes people brought to Christmas dinner have been demolished.

  Penny slouches in a chair, looking as if she might burst for real. I sit at her feet and rub her knee. “So, maybe no Christmas baby, huh?”

  “I’m going to be pregnant forever. She’ll grow up and go to college without ever being born.”

  “I’m calling New Year’s,” James says.

  Penny’s eyes well up. “Don’t say that. We’ll miss the party.”

  We’ve heard all about the New Year’s party of last year, with its alcohol, music and bonfires. The entire world is frozen and there’s no need for quiet. Apparently, it’s a bit like an office Christmas party, and the kids sleep in the upstairs of the brewery while it rages all night long.

  “There’ll be other parties,” I say. “At least you won’t have to go to college with her if she comes out.”

  “Her wedding night would be super awkward,” James says.

  Penny laughs and turns to me. “It would ruin your New Year’s, too.”

  “It’s just another night. We’ll have our own party later.”

  “Well, just so you know, I’m not making out with you at midnight,” Penny says.

  “There goes my New Year’s wish.”

  Penny’s eyebrow arches. “Maybe you can think of someone else you’d like to kiss. There must be someone around here somewhere.”

  Her smile says she’s enjoying getting me back for the years I’ve spent torturing her about bases and the like. The conversation moves to another topic, but I don’t hear a word. As much as I want to find a rock to crawl under, I feel as if another rock has been lifted from my shoulders. I think I might have just gotten Penny’s blessing.

  After I’ve made the rounds, I stand by the window and drink the one beer we were each allotted. Usually we don’t light many lamps, but tonight the entire cabin is aglow like the old days. I pull out my phone and snap pictures of Ash and Nat giggling in a corner. Jasmine and Nicki show off their presents while Jamie and Kyle look on. They haven’t jumped into anything, but he smiles a lot more these days, especially at her.

  Margaret sits on a couch, new hairdo framing her face. She’s being her usual quiet self, although she’s quiet in a way that says she’s drinking in the festivities rather than holding herself apart from them. I walk to where Rich leans on a wall, also peacefully watching the fun. “Have you met Margaret?” I ask him.

  “Sure.”

  “Have you spoken to Margaret?” Rich shakes his head, lips twitching. “Well, come meet her again.”

  I pull him across the room and plant him on the arm of the couch. “Margaret, you know Rich, right?” She nods. “Well, you guys grew up near each other. I bet you know some of the same people. Rich, didn’t you once say you liked classical music?”

  “Yup.”

  “Margaret used to play violin.”

  He raises an interested eyebrow, but neither of them speaks. This might be more work than I bargained for. “I’m sure there are tons of things to discuss in the world of classical music,” I say, out of my depth now. “You know, like composers and symphonies and stuff.”

  “The first time I met Rich he was blasting Verdi’s Requiem to lead away a pod,” Peter says from behind me. I turn with a grateful smile.

  “That’s quite a piece,” Margaret says. “What orchestra?”

  Rich mumbles something I can’t hear, but Margaret must have because she answers. I slip back to the window. Peter comes with me, and I nudge him when Rich moves to my empty spot. Rich’s mouth opens and closes, as does Margaret’s, so I can only assume they’re having a full-fledged conversation. A very slow-paced conversation, but a conversation nonetheless.

  “You think?” Peter asks, eyes on the pair.

  “It’s worth a shot. They can be quiet together.”

  He finishes his beer and wipes his mouth. “Good point. Is there anyone here you haven’t tried to pair off?”

  I take in the room, ignoring the glaringly obvious answer that stands next to me. “Mark. I haven’t found the right lady yet. Zeke and Liz did it on their own. I’m still working on Patricia and Terry. Chuck.”

  “Work on Chuck. He deserves someone.”

  “I have a few candidates in mind.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I’d thought it might be sad tonight with all the empty spaces where people should be. But what I said to Hank was true: I know that if they’re somewhere, they’re nothing but pleased. Ana’s probably screaming at me to stop being such a wuss. I toast the air and drink down the dregs of my beer.

  “Tired?” Peter asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Good. You still have another present coming.”

  “I do?” I ask.

  “Yup. It’s a long one.”

  “How can a present be long? Is it a measuring tape?”

  “Great, now you’ve ruined the surprise,” Peter says. “I know how much you love measuring things.” I push him with my shoulder. He gets me back and says, “Let’s go home and find out.”

  Bits and Hank go willingly, worn out by excitement and turkey. Once they’re in bed, Peter says, “We’ll have to do it in the bedroom so we don’t wake them.”

  I stare at Peter until
he’s pinkish and walk to the bedroom, where he arranges pillows at the head of the bed. He tells me to put on my pajama pants and read while I wait. “This is getting weird,” I say, and he leaves with an enigmatic smile.

  I pull up the blankets and stare into space. Obviously, this is not some sort of seduction present, unless Peter is suddenly turned on by ugly pajamas. My lips still tingle from his kiss this morning. It could hardly have been more chaste, but I think it held a promise—a promise I want him to keep.

  The aroma of popcorn seeps into the room. Finally, he opens the door a crack. “Close your eyes.”

  He sets something in my lap and I hear a soft electronic beep after he settles himself beside me. “Comfortable?” he asks. I nod. “Okay, open them.”

  The first thing I see is the bowl of popcorn in my lap. The second is the tablet that Peter holds, The Big Lebowski beginning to play on its screen.

  “You didn’t!” I screech and cover my mouth. The last thing I need right now is two woken-up kids.

  “I did. And there are two more movies besides this one.”

  He shushes me when I try to thank him. I watch the first five minutes in silence, wondering how he managed this, how he remembered it at all and how I deserve someone so incredible, even as a friend. He props the tablet on his knees and puts an arm around my shoulders the way he used to, when he’d say I fit right under his chin. I can remember all the good things about Peter these days.

  “Thank you so—” I begin.

  “Shhh. Don’t talk during the movie.” I try to speak again, but he covers my mouth. “Movie.”

  I pull his hand away. “I can practically recite this movie. Would you let me say thank you?”

  “Okay.” He waits a beat and asks, “Well? I’m waiting.”

  I laugh. “Thank you. Very, very much. This is the—”

  “You’re welcome. Now watch.” He shoves a handful of popcorn in my open mouth. And Heaven help me, I think I’ve just fallen in love a tiny bit more.

  66

  I’m enjoying a New Year’s Eve bath when Bits flies into the steamy room. “Penny’s having the baby!”

  “What?” I ask. “Now?”

  Bits spins around. “Yes! Come on!”

  I arrive at Penny’s cabin with my hair frozen solid and burst in the door to find her on the couch reading a book. “What’s the matter?” she asks. Her eyes widen. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have sent Bits. It’s going to be hours and hours. What did she say?”

  I plop down next to her and try to regain my breath. “Basically that a baby was hanging out of you. But it’s happening?”

  “The contractions are five minutes apart. But they aren’t bad—I just have to breathe through them. There’s one now.” She puts down her book and inhales through her nose.

  I wait for it to end and ask, “Is Glory coming?”

  “She was already here,” Penny says with a shrug. “Said to get her when they were three minutes apart and lasting a minute. Sooner if I wanted her here.” Penny’s been stressing about this day for months and now we might as well be discussing what to have for lunch.

  “Do you have a watch?”

  She looks around in a half-assed manner and shrugs again. “I don’t know where it is. I figured we’d count. I forgot to ask Glory for hers.”

  “Where’s James?”

  “I made him go get me food. He was hovering.”

  “Are you okay to be alone? I’ll go get Peter’s watch or my phone.”

  She puts a hand on my leg. “I’m fine, Cass. Take your time. Sorry that it’s starting now. You can go to the party if you want.”

  “Are you crazy? I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Are you sure Glory didn’t give you drugs? How are you so calm? It’s scaring me.”

  “I’ve been waiting so long that I’m not worried anymore. I just want it to happen.” She goes back to her book and barely takes notice when I leave.

  I find Peter at the brewery helping set up for tonight. “Hey, Penny’s in labor and we need your watch.”

  He sets down a chair and hands it to me. “I know. I just saw James. He’s freaking out. How’s Penny?”

  “Eerily calm.” The lights of the restaurant flicker on and classic rock blares from the overhead speakers. Cheers from the workers drown out Peter’s next words. “What?”

  He pulls me into the kitchen. “So you might not be here tonight.”

  My weeklong daydream of a New Year’s kiss is going to remain just that, but I’m too excited to be disappointed about missing something that might not happen. Between night shifts on guard and the kids watching Groundhog Day with us, it’s been friendly and cozy but nothing more. I’m trying very hard to remember patience is a virtue.

  “Probably not,” I say. “Have fifteen beers for me.”

  “Fifteen? You’re a lightweight. That’d kill you.”

  “All right, four.”

  “You never know, maybe you’ll get here late. I’ll save you your four beers.”

  “Better make it five,” I say. He laughs, but he looks disappointed. It pleases me more than it should. “Okay, I should get back.”

  “You’ll let us know when the baby’s born?”

  “Of course.” I give a little wave and spin right into Terry, who drops the boxes he was carrying.

  “Sorry!” I help pick them up and restack them in his arms.

  “It’s all right. I heard about Penny. Tell her good luck from me.”

  “I will. I’m on my way back over there now.” I pull his sleeve carefully so I don’t send his load down again. “So, who are you kissing at midnight?”

  “Why?” Terry asks with a wink. “Are you looking for a kiss?”

  “It’s tempting, but I value my life far too much,” I say. He looks mystified. “Patty would kill me.”

  Terry makes a pshaw noise. “She doesn’t date. She told me that once.”

  “I think she might have meant she doesn’t date anyone but you. Trust me. Right, Petey?”

  “You’re missing out, man,” Peter agrees.

  I do an excited dance when Terry walks away with a spring in his step. I think Patty’s going to be surprised come midnight. “Okay, now I’m really leaving. My work here is done.”

  “What work?” Peter asks.

  “I’ve got people to hook up, babies to deliver—”

  “Boxes to knock over.”

  “Ha. I’ll see you later.”

  “I hope so.”

  I look into those dark eyes. He knows how I feel, and I don’t try to hide it. I’d swear he feels the same. “Me, too.”

  67

  By nine o’clock, Penny is not as serene as she was, but she’s calmer than James at the contractions that have grown increasingly powerful. She plows through each one the way she did in school—focused and with determination to get an A. It’s quieter and less messy than I thought it would be until the very end, when Penny gives a final yell and a push that results in all sorts of gunk along with a tiny, slimy baby.

  Glory sets it on Penny’s chest and rubs it with a soft towel. “Beautiful,” Glory says. “A beautiful little girl.”

  Penny rubs a finger along the baby’s tiny cheek, looking exhausted and overwhelmed and completely enamored of the person we’ve been waiting to meet. I wipe my eyes, but not because I don’t want to cry; these are exactly the kinds of things I want to cry about. I kiss the happy parents’ cheeks and clean up while Glory deals with the afterbirth, which I’ve decided I don’t need to see in detail.

  “I’m going to leave you guys alone,” I say when everything’s been put to rights. James and Penny are tucked into bed, gazes riveted on the tiny bundle in her arms. “I’ll be back tomorrow to annoy you.”

  “Do you want to hold her?” Penny asks.

  “You know I do.” I snuggle the baby to my chest and admire the face that’s squashed the way all newborn faces are. I can tell she’s going to be pretty, though. She has the Diaz features—small nose and not-too-full lip
s—and two tiny licks of hair that look to be closer to Ana and James’s lighter brown. I wish Maureen were here to see this, but I find solace in the thought that she may be holding her own granddaughter right now.

  “She’s so—” I begin.

  “Purple,” Penny says at the same time as James says, “Frog-like.”

  “I was going to say gorgeous.” I shake my head. “Maria, do you hear what they’re saying about you? Your auntie will always think you’re gorgeous, even when you look like a purple frog.” She mewls and opens her tiny mouth, eyes scrunched, so I hand her back to Penny to nurse.

  “Anamaria,” Penny says. “We decided to name her Anamaria.”

  “I love it. I really do.”

  Penny and I smile through our tears. There are times in life when things seem to come full circle. It doesn’t all suddenly make sense—how could it?—but it feels as if there might be something or someone out there that provides us with just enough good to endure the bad.

  James hands me Peter’s watch. “You can probably make it for midnight.”

  “I have to change first, but I can if I hurry. I’ll see you tomorrow, Anamaria.” It rolls off my tongue easily, not getting tangled up in the names of two people I loved who are gone. I kiss her soft head and get ready to leave.

  “Cass,” Penny says. She holds the baby to her breast in the golden light, a Renaissance painting of Madonna and child. “Go get your kiss.”

  I freeze with my zipper midway. “What?”

  “Go get your New Year’s kiss from Peter,” she says with a beatific smile.

  “I’m not…really sure—”

  “I have never seen anyone want to kiss someone more than that man wants to kiss you.” It’s a good thing she’s cut me off—I might’ve stood here stammering until midnight. I prickle with happiness that she’s given me her blessing and that she sees it, too. And then Penny leers in a way the Blessed Virgin never would. “Who knows, maybe you’ll hit a home run.”

  James laughs his ass off while Penny giggles. And although she’s torturing me, I blow her a kiss before I leave. I want them to always be this way—a family full of joy and promise, unafraid of the future. I trudge through the snow past the noise of the party and wonder what this world will be like when Anamaria’s grown. I believe we can give her a future that’s more than just survival, if we have the courage to keep fighting. Maybe it’s an act of courage in itself to believe there can be a future, to accept the challenge of protecting something so small and helpless. Maybe it’s an act of courage to love again and again, no matter how many times your heart has been shattered.