“It’s weird,” Rodney said, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I’m tired. Exhausted, really. Not a normal tired, either. It’s in my bones.”
“But,” Don said, knowing there was more.
“But,” Rodney said, “I… I don’t know. I feel… almost weightless. Like I’m here, but I have no heft to me.”
“You feel younger,” Don said.
Rodney looked at him, surprised. “How did you…?”
“I do too,” Don said. He reached up and touched his face. Still the same shape: soft, lined with wrinkles. “I don’t feel like I look.”
“You look fine.”
“Thank you, dear. But that’s not what I meant.”
“We’re too old for this shit.”
“Probably.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“Here we are,” Don agreed, kissing his cheek.
Rodney said, “I didn’t know what would happen when we first met. I didn’t know that it’d be a lifetime. I hoped it would, I think. At least part of me did. I couldn’t even tell you why. But there was something about you, something I wanted. Something I thought I needed. And I was right. Ididneed you. Still do, in fact.”
“How lucky are we?” Don asked.
Rodney snorted as he stood upright, turning to face his husband. “How do you figure?”
“You said that that’s what the universe is. Luck and happenstance. There’s no fate, no destiny. Sometimes it is horrible, devastating. But sometimes, it could lead to a life we couldn’t have predicted. A good life, even if it hurts. Out of everything in the universe, what were the chances that we’d find each other the way we did?”
“One in a trillion.”
“Probably not quite that high, but it might as well have been. If it was luck that brought us together, then I think we’re the luckiest people in the world.”
“Even now?” Rodney asked, eyebrows rising up his forehead.
“Even now.”
“That’s—”
“A truck,” Rodney said, eyes going wide.
Don frowned. “What?”
“Atruck,” Rodney said again, grabbing Don by the chin and turning his head. Sure enough, a small truck was driving up the road toward them. A little Nissan, from the late eighties or early nineties by the look of it. Faded blue with a spotlight sitting above the driver’s-side mirror. Ever the protector, Rodney stepped in front of Don, stance wide, arms across his chest. Even at the end of the world, his machismo knew no bounds. What a lovely asshole he was.
The truck stopped about ten feet away from them, the headlights remaining on. Don couldn’t make out who was inside; the dusty headlights were a tad too bright. A driver behind the wheel, and someone—something?—in the passenger seat. The spotlight turned on, shining directly at them. They flinched, raising their hands to block their eyes.
Don thought of Amy. Of Becca. The family. Pantomime. Amelia. Who would this person prove to be?
The truck turned off. The door opened.
The woman who stepped out seemed as tall as she was wide. Taller than both Rodney and Don; it was almost impossible how much of her there was stepping outside the small truck. She looked to be in her forties or fifties, face slightly weathered, dark brown skin, with tight braids against her scalp. She wore baggy khakis with multiple pockets, a vest over a plaid shirt, and dusty boots. She whistled once, a sharp burst. A large black-and-brown dogjumped out after her. A German shepherd mix of some kind, and a beautiful one at that, its coat shiny. Its pointy ears turned toward them as it got its feet under it, tongue lolling. Around its middle, a vest of sorts, orange with bulky pockets that looked packed tightly.
The woman raised a hand, cautious. “Hello there, folks. Some car trouble? Thought that might be the case. Saw your headlights from my porch up a ways.” She threw a thumb over her shoulder. “Thought maybe you could use some help.”
“You live out here?” Rodney asked.