It Ends Like This
“Now honey, if the world’s going to fall apart around me, then I might as well enjoy my coffee.”
She sat atop the rubble and ruin, entirely aware of and resigned to the rising smoke of the collapsed building behind her, the chaotic shouting and ongoings of the people on the street, and of course, the constant, high-pitched drone of the city sirens reminding everyone (for surely everyone knew but might easily forget) that this was in fact, an emergency. Or maybe the sirens served to remind her of that because it was she who pulled her hair back neatly with a bandana, picked up a broken china cup from the road, cleaned it out with the hem of her dress, filled it with steaming coffee from a nearby aid station and picked her way through the debris to what might have once been a piece of wall, and sat down as if this was how she took her cup of joe daily.
At the same time on the other side of the same pile of ruin sat another woman, this one a little less put together if we’re going to be delicate about it but equally thoughtful and specific about every action. No, this one, on her own piece of ceiling or wall, had looted a bottle of whisky from the nearby store, climbed to her perch, and sat down. Except instead of sipping with all polite manners like her counterpart, she stared up from the bottom of the bottle causing every bystander to wonder if that was meant in more ways than one.
The newspapers caught them on camera, posted their photos side-by-side on the front page. People wondered if it was some sort of modern art project, a reflection on the human condition. But the newspaper missed what Miss Jane, the pretty one drinking coffee, had said when the fireman tried to coax her from her perch. They also missed what Miss Sage had to say about the situation too. That’s the problem with the newspapers now. Too much speculation.
No, their reasons were far more simple. When the fireman tried to get Miss Jane down she simply waved a dainty little hand and said, “Now honey, if the world’s going to fall apart around me, then I might as well enjoy my coffee.”
And on the other side, Miss Sage said, “Well, the view is mighty fine from here. Why don’t you come up and join me?”
Both women simply refused to move to both the confusion and dismay of the firemen. Both were warned that if they didn’t move, they would be carried to which point both women merely smiled and said they would move when they finished their drink. And they were true to their word about the matter. Teacup emptied and placed delicately on the edge of her perch, Miss Jane stood up, graciously accepting the fireman’s arm, and allowed him to escort her to the closest aid station. It was the very same place she’d gotten the coffee to begin with. On the other side, Miss Sage downed the last drop of whisky, stood up, dropped the bottle, stumbled her way off the wreckage with the hovering arm of a fireman who guided her into the very same aid station as Miss Jane was led into.
By the time Miss Sage was brought in, Miss Jane had already convinced the staff she was certainly fine and began to take charge of the station herself. She was the head nurse of the hospital after all and upon seeing Miss Sage stagger in, liquored up and all, promptly laid her in a bed and left her there to rest, entirely unaware of the mirror effect they had created moments before. Miss Jane wasn’t quite sure if she envied Miss Sage’s state at the moment but she knew she wouldn’t envy her in a few hours when the booze wore off. Better this way, she mused, and periodically fluttered back to ensure nothing had been missed and the grungy looking woman hadn’t found a new way to injury or ail herself. But mostly Miss Jane was kept busy as the walking continued to flood in.
The sun was high in the sky by the time Miss Sage sobered up a bit and lurched to an upright position in her cot. She downed the cup of water Miss Jane had left by her cot and swung her legs off the bed, stood up, and had made it all of three steps before finding her passage blocked by the stern, albeit small, stature of Miss Jane. Miss Jane had pulled herself to full height, a rather unimpressive 5feet, one inch maybe, but nonetheless held steady in her steely gaze. Miss Sage, despite being rather average in height, towered over Miss Jane but was learning quickly what every man in the room knew. Miss Jane was not to be crossed.
“You will lay down again until you’ve been given permission to leave,” Miss Jane said clearly.
“I’ve nothing but a smidge headache of my own doing, Miss,” said Miss Sage. “So if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
“But I do mind. Now back to bed with you.”
Miss Sage seemed to contemplate the potential consequences of disobeying Miss Jane before finally acquiescing and finding her bed once more. In truth, Miss Jane knew Miss Sage was well enough to part of her own accord but given the happenings of the night before was more concerned about what else Miss Sage might do to herself if left to her own unsteady feet on the rubble outside.
So Miss Sage passed the remainder of the day in the aid station, periodically helping Miss Jane where she could. Miss Jane, she noted, however feminine and demure in appearance, flinched not at blood, vomit, grime, or infection. She had no problem turning a crying man and jabbing him in the ass with a needle full of an antibiotic nor did she flinch at the cries, calls, and foul language of wounded and injured men. She seemed to have an eye on the whole ward at once while never taking her strong and sure hands from whomever she was caring for at the moment.
“Good thing she’s the nurse and not me,” said a man, startling Miss Sage out of her study of Miss Jane at one point. He handed her a cigarette and she took it, certain that Miss Jane would not approve of their smoking, but lit up all the same. “I couldn’t care for them the way she does.”
“And who are you?” Miss Sage asked.
“Doctor Willowby,” he said.
“And here you are smoking a cigarette and not helping out the poor nurse.”
“Was sent away for getting in the way.”
“Who gives the orders around here?”
Both laughed, neither needing an answer to that question. Just then Miss Jane’s eyes darted up, met the doctors, and he went walking towards her like a schoolboy called by his mother.
It was well into the night when Miss Jane returned to the bedside of Miss Sage and suddenly she looked tired. The bags beneath her eyes had grown and whatever brightness that had lived there upon her coffee break on the rubble this morning had faded to a dim.
“You’re free to go,” Miss Jane said. “But I suggest an escort to accompany you.”
“How about you?” Miss Sage responded, a glint in her eye.
Miss Jane drew back at the idea.
“Don’t tell me you’re staying.” “No, I’ve been ordered a few hours of shut-eye myself. Back at dawn.”
“Well then, I guess I got my escort.”
Miss Jane sighed but acquiesced leave Miss Sage to wonder what force existed that could order Miss Jane to do much of anything and her be willing to follow. She thought better of asking and simply hopped down from her bed, leading Miss Jane out the door.
The women, opposites in almost every respect, walked down the broken streets. There were no stars that night, the dust and smoke made sure of it. They walked in silence both their minds filled with a thousand questions for the other. If you could read Miss Sage’s mind, it might have looked or sounded something like this:
How do you take care of so many people? How are you so strong? Why did you force me to stay? You can’t really be so concerned about what else I could do to myself. It’s not like the world isn’t ending anyway. For that matter, why do you keep tending to them, helping them heal if we’re all doomed anyway? And why did you agree to escort me home? And how did you get to be so beautiful? I wonder what your hands would feel like or your lips? Will you go home to someone? Oh, you probably have a husband. Are you judging me for my actions?
And if you could read Miss Jane’s mind, it might have looked or sounded something like this:
Why did you want me to walk you home? I’m a right mess after the whole day through. Better a nice, young man who can escort you proper right? God, why did I agree? Does she know I don’t judge her? That there’s a part of me that wished I had the same flippant attitude to the whole damn situation? God, I wished it was me with the bottle this morning, something to drown out this reality, all that blood, all those screams. And now there’s a woman next to me and a beautiful one at that. But nonsense, she’s probably got someone waiting for her, probably got someone who will face it all down with her.
Their minds both rumbled a thousand miles an hour in strange contrast to the calm, potentially insidious silence that surrounded them. They stopped walking outside a small flat with a red door, Miss Sage fumbling for her keys. Miss Jane hesitated a moment before nodding and turning to take her leave.
“Be safe now,” Miss Jane said, hearing the futileness of such a statement in times like these.
“Come inside,” Miss Sage said, hoping she sounded far more content and calm than she felt, her heart thundering and blood rising in waves in her ears.
Miss Jane shuffled her feet a moment, looked around at the ruins, and nodded. It’s the end of the world. No point in modesty now, right?
The small flat was sparsely furnished yet still home-like. Small, minimal, but lived in. Like someone had once seen a future here but knew well enough they did not require much to live comfortably. Save for the kitchen. The kitchen was near sterile and one look into the refrigerator would should you a week’s worth of takeout leftovers if you needed to prove a point. But it was here Miss Sage turned first, pulling cups from a cabinet, making tea for both. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, just that maybe Miss Jane would stay a moment longer if she had a warm cup in her hand. Miss Jane stood leaning against the doorway to the kitchen and watched, accepting the cup gratefully before following Miss Sage out onto the balcony.
“Why do you do it?” Miss Sage asked abruptly. Miss Jane said nothing but rose one, delicate eyebrow prompting more details. “Taking care of them all, I mean. What’s the point?”
Miss Jane had to acknowledge the nihilism. This was the very question she wrestled with over her morning coffee on the ruins. She looked first at her tea, took a sip, then glanced again at Miss Sage.
“Because despite every odd stacked against us, the human body still strives to live and all those people are still fighting for their lives. Not one person in that tent was ready to give up and die. We’re all going to die one day. I figure the only reason that I’m asking this question now is because suddenly death is imminent. Before it was a vague thing in the future.”
“So you help them live another two days?”
“No. I figure, if we all die to tomorrow, at least I tried to make death easier. We don’t, maybe I helped to save a few lives.” Miss Jane paused and took another sip of her tea. “And you? How do you explain today?”
“You mean the booze, the cot, and asking you to come home with me?” Miss Sage asked with a rueful grin. Miss Jane only nodded. “I don’t explain it. I just shrug and say why not.”
That caused Miss Jane to laugh a high, ringing laugh out into the dark of the night and Miss Sage thought maybe nothing could be more beautiful in the face of imminent demise. They were quiet again for some time. Life would not last long enough for cluttered small talk. It was Miss Sage who broke the silence again.
“And you just accept it? Just like that?”
“Hmmm,” Miss Jane shrugged. “I suppose so. I’ve made my peace. No use in fighting. Nowhere to run. You?”
“Ahh well, we brought this one on ourselves. Only a matter of time before the earth took the cities back.”
The night crept onwards and the women found tender hands and tender bodies, wrapped in the quiet of a doomed world and a family heirloom quilt.
“It’s a shame,” Miss Jane whispered quietly as she stood with the first lights of dawn.
“Mmmm. What is?” Miss Sage asked languidly.
“Crazy as it sounds, I might fall in love with you if given the time.”
“Not crazy at all. Must you go?”
Miss Jane offered a small kiss both as a farewell and a promise to return. With that she disappeared for one more long day in the aid station, trying to embody the hope proffered by the human body. Miss Sage found her way back, taking up a place as an extra hand in the aid station until once again that invisible force sent Miss Jane away for some rest.
It was that night that the city finished falling with the impossible women wrapped contently in the arms of the other. The world did not end though. Not that night at least. But the city fell, taking the women and the aid station with it. Their bodies were found, both with smiles still painted on their faces, and they’d be recognized as the mirror women from the rubble and ruin. They became legends and myths — some believing they were the very reason the city fell, others convinced they were the reason it lasted as long as it did. None of the legends were true. Humans for all their creativity, seem to struggle the most when the truth is the simplest answer of all. The world would not end for another two years, eight months, and six days.
Which, if calculations are correct, is tomorrow.