17. No Sleep #2
She was cackling, holding down the button so I couldn’t even inch in another word. Her laughter filled the lab. “If only my mother could see me now.”
“You lived through nuclear fallout, I think you get a pass on the microwave thing.” Solace’s mom was one of the healthiest women I’d ever met, besides my grandmother. “You know Milo had a microwave and stash of mac-n-cheese cups in his room right?”
Silence. Beep. Beep. “You’re lying!”
“For late gaming nights. I was actually pretty jealous of the setup.”
“...I cannot believe him. What else did he have stashed in there?”
“A mini fridge and some soda. I recall having Twinkies a few times.”
“How did he even—”
“Rupert,” we said at the same time, our voices overlapping through the static.
For a second all you could hear was the sound of laughter and crackling interference.
“He was such a menace,” Solace finally said.
“Yeah, but he was a good friend to Milo.” A warmth settled strangely in my chest at the memory. God. Milo. I leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. It felt dangerous how easily I’d fallen back into step. Like the seven missing years were evaporating if we just kept talking fast enough.
“You know,” Solace said after a moment, quieter now, “I mostly think about stupid stuff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like that summer we all slept on the roof during the heatwave.”
I smiled immediately.
“Or the mini tacos from Bill’s gas station.
I think about that time you mowed Ms. Charlene’s lawn while I painted her front door.
I think about my dad’s goofy laugh and his shitty pancakes.
Sometimes I think about how unfair it is that I was just figuring stuff out.
I kind of feel like my adulthood was stolen from me.
Like I blinked and went from twenty-four and broke to thirty-something. ”
I refused to think about those things because if I did, I’d probably give up if I was being honest. But hearing her laugh tonight felt like finding the answer I’d been looking for, not even sure what to ask.
“You know what I miss most?” I asked.
“Hm?”
“You making fun of me constantly.”
“That’s what you miss most?”
“Absolutely.”
“Not sunlight? Or the ocean. Soccer!”
I smiled to myself, staring out at the stars beyond the station glass.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I still played soccer at least once a month with a few ensigns after work.
“I miss hearing your footsteps before I saw you,” I admitted.
“You always walked as if there was a fire, or you were late for something.”
“I was always late for something.”
“Hardly. Don’t even get me started on your backseat driving, even though you refused to get your license for so long. God I’d give anything to have you snap at me about my parking.”
“You loved me.”
I leaned forward slowly, resting my elbows on the desk. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “I do.”
I could hear her smile in it.
“What else?” I asked, steering the conversation away from less dismal thoughts.
“Hm?”
“What do you do all day?”
“Oh.” Another beep. “I read a lot.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“There are only like thirty books down here though, so at this point I’ve started re-reading them. One of them is just a plumbing manual.”
“Oof. That’s rough.”
“I’ve read it four times.”
I laughed under my breath, turning my chair slightly so I wasn’t just staring at the same spot on the desk.
“And I exercise,” she added. “Or I try to. There’s only so much cardio you can do in a bunker.”
“You still hate running?”
“With every fiber of my being.”
“Some things never change.”
The static softened for a moment, almost like a sigh. “Remember when you tried to get me to jog with you?” she asked.
“You made it half a mile,” I said immediately.
“I nearly died.”
“You were being dramatic.”
Beep.
“I saw the gates of heaven.” Beep. “Only psychopath’s enjoy running.”
I pointed at the radio automatically, even though she couldn’t see it. “Slander.”
“Other than reading shitty manuals and eating the same canned food,” she said after a beat, “sometimes I stare at the ceiling for several hours.”
“Very productive.”
“Sometimes.” A faint sound came through—maybe her adjusting a flashlight or tapping a book closed. “Sometimes I think about what you’re doing,” she added.
“What do you picture?”
“The same thing you’ve always done. Running around with a pencil tucked behind your ear, catering to whatever girl is on your arm...”
I pitched my voice low, teasing. “That is unbelievably rude.”
“And probably accurate.”
“No.”
“Have you…” Her voice was small. Nothing like who I knew her to be. “Did you—fuck, why am I so awkward?” She let out a soft sigh. “Did you ever get married? Are you with someone?”
I paused. Shit. Did she think I had a family somewhere tucked away up here that I’d forgotten to tell her about? There was no one but Solace. Not even before the end of the world. That night, sitting in the front row during her first performance, I knew.
I knew she was the only one for me.
Then the Scourge happened and I was in space and there was no way to reach her or any time to figure our shit out.
Somewhere beneath us, impossibly far away, she was curled up underground talking to me through a broken radio line like no time had passed at all.
The thought hit me so suddenly it stole the smile from my face.
Seven years. Seven fucking years.
“I found you through Satellites,” I admitted.
“I heard it relayed through the other bunker. I recognized the melody immediately and stumbled out of the room to throw up in the hall. I’ve been having these crazy dreams,” I confessed quietly.
“Every night I fall asleep, and every night I wake up with your face right there—so close your nose is almost brushing mine.” My throat tightened around the words.
Sometimes the dreams felt like seeing my life, except I wasn't invited.
“A thousand times I’ve dreamt of you, and a thousand times I’ve begged for death,” I continued, voice low and rough now, “for the chance to rest long and deep enough to lie beside you a little longer.”
The radio hissed softly between us.
“It’s not enough to only share the sky. I don’t want to keep turning the same orbit and miss you every fucking time.”
Silence. My hand tightened around the edge of the desk.
“I’m not saying that because the world ended and I’ve got nothing left,” I said. “I’m saying it because even before all this, there was nobody else. There is nobody else. It has always been you, Solace.”
A shaky breath crackled through the speakers. I could almost picture her with her eyes closed, listening.
“That night after your performance in New York… that was the last time for me. I haven’t—” I scrubbed a hand down my jaw. “That was the last time. There’s only you, Solace.”
“Jude,” she murmured.
“I have more to say to you,” I continued. “But I refuse to say it until I can cradle your face between my palms and press a kiss to your perfect lips. Because fuck what’s left of this world.” My voice dropped lower. “You’re mine, and I’m coming for you, baby.”