Chapter 92 (The Last Chapter)
On that same hot night, Hannah and Percy lay on the grassy lawn behind the mansion, their heads barely touching, and drank forties while looking at the stars. It was Saturday and Hannah had to start work on Monday. Percy was knee-deep in the job search but hadn’t turned up anything very inviting yet. After thinking about it, he had decided he was done with the whole taking care of old people thing. “I have enough mansions for now,” he said.
Tonight, therefore, was a celebratory night, the last night of freedom for poor Hannah Cook. Back to reality. Full-time jobs were dangerous. Soon, she knew, she’d be caught up in the workplace politics, looking for a promotion, and then time would pass and she’d forget what she ever wanted to do other than work. Maybe living with Percy would keep her honest, though. Maybe that’s why people bound themselves into pairs.
“Is that Mars?” Percy asked, pointing to something. Hannah shrugged.
“Who do you think I am, Carl Sagan?”
“Are you asking if you resemble an old man? Because, yes.”
“I don’t know what Mars looks like. But I’ll bet you anything we’ll be living there in like thirty years.”
“Yeah, probably,” Percy said, shrugging. “Humans. If there’s real estate, we’ll be there. The first thing they should build is like a House of Blues, and then they could have concerts there. They’d be like the best concerts ever!”
“Man, that would be hot. I’d totally do acid on Mars.” Hannah high-fived Percy and finished off her first forty, tossing the bottle aside. It landed with a muted ‘clunk’ on the damp lawn.
Even as she lay on the grass, hours away from having to go to bed, Hannah couldn’t help but feel like something was dying or, even worse, had already died, and was beginning to stink up the place. Or maybe it was many things, constantly dying around her, like her relationships with people that she didn’t talk to anymore, or her whole stupid childhood, for that matter.
But that was no attitude to have and she knew it, so she bucked up, cracked open her second forty, and took a mighty slug. That’s the spirit, she told herself, feeling better already.
THE END
