The Last Bite of Cheri Cheesecake

Trigger warning: scenes of depression, moderate violence, and suicidal ideation.

*****

Sometimes the smallest things signal a huge opportunity. This was very much the case one unassuming April evening at the end of a long week when I met this girl. She wasn't dancing. I was OK with that; I've come to accept that trying to dance causes a hazard to everyone around me, and I've reluctantly given it up. I don't know how else to flirt with a girl. But I saw her sitting at a table all by herself, looking sad and forlorn. So I decided to go say hi.

"Hey!" I said.

"Hi," she replied.

"Taking a break?" I asked.

"I can't dance," she said.

"I don't believe that. You look like you've got some sweet moves. I can't dance; they don't let me anymore. People's eyes bleed. Because of my elbows, not because it's painful to watch, although it is that, too. Name's Kyle."

She caught herself with her mouth hanging open, and laughed to cover it.

"Cheri. Like 'Sherry' but spelled with a 'C' and an 'I'. I'm not allowed to either. Doctor's orders," she said, pouting a little bit.

She was really cute. She had these tiny braids with ribbons that caught the colored lights in the club quite strikingly against her dark hair.

"Aw. Too much high blood pressure from all the men getting turned on?"

She giggled.

"No, I have... lymphoma. Cancer of the throat. I never even smoked a day in my life."

"Oh geez. That's awful, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's ok. I'm coping. It hasn't beaten me yet."

"There's always a chance, right? Miracles have been known to happen."

"Something always gets us in the end. A girl can hope to live a good life first, at least."

"Speaking of that, if you don't dance, what do you do in a club?"

"I stalk people. I watch them. Sometimes, I even meet one," she said, winking.

"Well, as a web developer and programmer, I think you might be a little too edgy for me," I quipped.

"You sure about that? You came and talked to a girl without even a wingman."

"Yeah, that would require having friends," I grinned.

"You don't fool me. I saw you come in with that guy in the blue jacket."

"Busted! I was his wingman actually. I guess you're pretty good at watching people."

"My research shows there are a few things it's worth being good at," she said with a sassy shake of her head.

"Hmm. If I buy you a drink, will you tell me about it?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Rum and coke, if you don't mind. Without the rum."

"Haha... seriously?"

"Say it just like that, they'll add a rum flavor here, but alcohol reacts with my meds, and my kidney can't process it correctly."

"Oh, fair enough. Cheaper that way at least, right?"

"Thanks to Dr. Ramirez, I may be higher maintenance now, but I'm a cheaper date too."

"I'll make it a Mexican coke at least, in his or her honor."

"I've heard of that, but I never did figure out what the difference is."

"It comes in a glass bottle, so there's none of the metal can flavor. They also use cane sugar instead of that corn syrup stuff."

"Oh! Sounds tasty. The things you learn from meeting new people!"

I came back with the drink and one of my own, and we talked as much as the pounding dance music would let us, but as the night wore on the volume went up and that ended up not being very much.

"Hey, I have to go to the restroom," she said.

"OK, see you in a bit!" I said.

I found that I had to go as well, but after I went and came back someone had stolen the table. I waited around, looking all over for Cheri but never found her. I reluctantly wrote her off, vowing to come back and look for her another time.

*****

"Hey Loretta. Got anything for me today?"

"Hey Kyle, so good to see you! Yes, Mrs. Johnston wants you to help with her new phone, and the wifi in here is acting up again, if you don't mind taking a look."

Loretta was the front desk attendant.

"Sure. Do you still have any spare cables or wireless doohickeys?"

"Is that the technical term?"

"No, I believe in the biz they're called 'thingamajigs'. But I'm no pro."

"Well don't tell our residents, I've already told them we have a real tech guy coming out today, and he's gonna get their cat videos back up on YouTV."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

I spent an hour finding the maintenance guy so I could get the ladder, and get into the supply closet where they had an unopened wireless access point still shrink-wrapped in its box and lots of cables. Then another fifteen minutes running the cable through the drop ceiling from the internet modem by the community printer.

"Mistah Kyle, are you almost done fiddle-fartin' around?"

"Yes Mrs. Johnston, I'll take a look at your phone in just a minute."

"I dunno why you worried about them signal bars so much, I got a niece in Georgia had a new baby boy and I wanna see him."

"Mrs. Johnston, I can't get your phone to have good video if the wifi isn't strong. You know the walls aren't good for other phone signals."

"Well just you hurry up then. I'm liable to die before you get every little error message and broke screen around here fixed."

"Mrs. Johnston, you're gonna outlive everybody here. Including me."

"You better hope so. I die before I see my little Anton, imma come back and slap you."

"Mrs. Johnston, you're my favorite civil war survivor in the world."

"Oh, pish tosh. It was World War II young man, and you know I was a baby."

"I'm sure I don't."

Mrs. Johnston grinned and cackled from the doorway to her room. I laughed too. Up the hall, I saw Loretta talking with someone next to a cart of food.

"Is that the young lady does our new food program?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Johnston."

"You go find out for me, and tell her I want to thank her personally. She got the kitchen all turned around since she started coming here. Best meals I ever ate, and that's sayin' somethin', cuz that includes mine."

"Yes ma'am."

"Don't you ma'am me!"

"No, Mrs. Johnston ma'am."

"Hmph. Damn right. Wait a minnut!"

I laughed and put the ladder in an empty room so it would be out of the way, and went back up the hall.

"Is that the whole load for the kitchen? Need any help?" I said.

"Yes, there's another- Kyle!?"

It took me a second. There were no ribbons in her hair, or UV lights to catch it - but it was her.

"Cheri! What are you doing here?"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry about the other day, I came back to the table and it was taken!"

"I know, I stepped away for a minute and-"

"Miss Cheri, are you telling me you know this hoodlum?" Loretta put in.

From one of the rooms a song started playing:

o/` SHERRY o/`

o/` SHERRY BABYYYYYY SHERRY o/`

"Mr. Brown!" Cheri protested, giggling.

The man appeared in his wheelchair snapping his fingers and twirling almost gracefully enough that we didn't have to step out of the way.

"I had my tape deck cued up just for you when you came by. Darlin' my taste buds are dancin' already just like I did at the Four Seasons concert I went to years ago, I always remember every time I see you," he said. "Son, if you've got any sense at all, get this young lady's number. I'd do it myself but I'm about thirty years too late. Heck, maybe ten!"

"Alright Mr. Brown that's enough of that," Loretta said, helping him back into his room. "You're gonna leave scuffs on the wall again."

"Ain't that what they for?"

"No sir, they fuh holdin' up the ceiling."

"Oh, that's right."

"Well, I'd better be going," I said. "Apparently my celebrity status here is at an end."

"Oh no you don't! You get your ass down here and look at my phone!"

"Be right there Mrs. Johnston! I swear, she's a bat."

"What did you call me?!"

"I said you've got ears like a bat!"

"I know you did not! You watch it, mister."

"But she made me come down here and find out if you're with the new food program."

Cheri nodded bashfully. "I... um... I go down to the farmer's market and I get the ugly produce and other healthy foods that still taste good. Get it for pennies on the dollar since it's for a retirement home. I help the kitchen with new recipes to cook with all of it; part of my college coursework at first, and I just... kept coming back. I don't normally come out on Wednesdays, but I had a doctor's appointment so I decided to stop by here instead of going to work today."

"Well we absolutely love it," Loretta said. "It's the best food we've had here in years. And I'm one of the few who can remember back that far," she winked. "I'm about to be a resident myself, I'm allowed to say that."

"You guys are too much," Cheri said, eyes misting up a little bit. "I don't even have a full spice rack, I just do what I can."

Mrs. Johnston started singing a bad rendition of a dirge from down the hall. "You gonna be late to my funeral!"

"Coming Mrs. Johnston! See you around, huh?"

I winked at Cheri, and she blushed harder, following the cart into the kitchen as one of the maintenance guys muscled it over a lumpy threshold.

Half an hour or so later, I was walking past the front desk to go to my car.

"I have something for you, Kyle," Loretta said, waving me over.

"Oh?"

"That young lady wanted me to give you this. I told her I didn't know if it was such a good idea, but she insisted."

It was a scrap of paper with a phone number on it, and a name: Cheri.

"Well thank you kindly. I might still help you all get that new TV set up when it comes in."

"Don't you listen to Mrs. Johnston, you know we all appreciate you."

"I know Loretta. Thank you."

"No, thank *you*."

*****

Through the miracle of memory distortion and time-flies-when-you're-having-fun, I have very little memory of specific details leading to the next major milestone in our budding relationship except for coffee shops and late night phone calls. I do remember calling Cheri and asking her out. She said yes practically before the question had finished rolling off my lips. Today, however, something was clearly bothering her.

"Hey Cheri. What's wrong?"

"Kyle. I think... I need to break up with you."

"What? Why? What did I do?"

"No, it's not... I'm sorry! It's not you. I know that sounds so cliche, but seriously. I think it's just better for both of us. You deserve better."

"What do you mean? You're pretty great. How do I top that vacation we just took? Who could possibly follow a river cruise and hot sex for a week in Europe with such a pretty girl?"

"I'm not pretty. I'm wasting away. Look, my ribs are starting to show."

"Quit exaggerating. You're not a scarecrow, and you're not scaring me away. What's this really about?"

"Kyle, I think I'm dying. Like, for real."

"Uh..."

"No, look, I understand. You don't have to say anything. I should never have gotten involved with you. It's not fair. I had this fantasy that I would get better, and everything would be OK. But I'm not healing. It's going to be very painful, and I don't want to put you through that. I want you to remember me how I am right now, before I become this lifeless husk of a human being."

"Geez. I know this must be rough for you, but are you sure? I've heard it's better to have friends and family close by to support you. I mean, if that's your decision, then I'll respect that, but... think about what you're saying. I don't want to say goodbye."

"Damn you. Why couldn't you just be an asshole and make this easy?" she whined. "You're right. I don't want to give you up, either. Why do you have to be so wise? This is not how I expected this to go; I have two whole tubs of ice cream in my freezer, waiting for my pity binging party. Not even low-fat."

"Well, then there's one for each of us."

"Fine. But you'd better earn your triple chocolate fudgey treat. That's my favorite flavor."

"Name your price," I challenged her with a grin.

"Tell me the best way to kill myself."

"Suicide bomber. Quick, painless, make a lasting impression on the people around you. You're welcome."

It shocked me more than I expected to see her apparently stop to consider it.

"Like hell. The people who need killing don't sit around in one convenient spot. Go get the ice cream and try again."

I got two spoons and sat down next to her on the couch in her two-bedroom apartment. The conversation continued in a surreal slow motion. Several seconds passed between my words and hers as we took turns stuffing our faces with delicious creamy spoonfuls.

"Sorry I have such deadpan delivery, that was a joke."

"I know. But I need you to be serious. I'm not going to just shrivel up until half my body weight is bone and the other half is pain."

"Guns are a classic. Messy, though."

"Yeah, and way too intimidating. What if I somehow miss every vital spot? Then I'm worse off than when I started, maybe holed up in the hospital until the cancer finishes me off."

"There's gotta be some kind of drug."

"Narcotics... that doesn't work so well. You take enough of them, it's not only ugly but like, REALLY uncomfortable."

"Sleeping pills..."

"...interfere with my meds. Or I'm allergic to it. Again, super uncomfortable."

"So stop taking your meds?"

"I'd rather take the lead pill from a Remington. This cancer bullshit REALLY hurts."

"Exhaustion from orgiastic sex?"

"Now you're talking. Is that a thing? Please let that be a thing."

"No. Dying's generally a drag. I recommend against it."

Cheri gave me a glare.

"Hey, here's one. Get a mirror, and look at yourself like you just looked at me. Might work, especially if you don't have a mouthful of ice cream to sweeten it."

"Ha ha. Maybe I should make you kill me."

"Sure. I'll just choke you out during sex, and not let go," I said sarcastically. "The cop's'll never come looking for someone with my DNA and the fingers matching the bruises on your neck, right? Or I just have to burn down the apartment and not get caught afterwards?"

"About time you got rough with me. I'm not a porcelain doll, you know," Cheri said grinning, until it slipped.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Would you actually do that? If I really wanted to go that way? I mean, ignoring the deaths of all my neighbors in the fire. We'll have to think of something else, obviously."

"I..."

I finished my ice cream trying to come up with something to say.

"I know. It's too much to ask. I-I just thought..." she stammered, tearing up.

"Look. Be straight with me for a minute. We can go back to your choking fetish if you really want, but there's something I need to know first."

"OK," she said, wiping the tears away. "But then I need you to do me a favor and get a grip."

The coughing fit spoiled her giggling fit at the look on my face as the pun took effect.

"...right. I think that's the most badass thing anyone's ever said to me. So. Seriously, now. How bad is it? What are your chances?"

Her face drained even more of its color. Her voice came out shaky, cracking like a teenager's. She hadn't been a teenager in at least five years. I made a note to figure out a tactful way to ask what her age was.

"...it's metastasized, spread through my brain and other organs. I'm terminal. There's really nothing they can do. It's just a matter of time. There aren't any miracles coming. Not for me."

"Are you sure?"

"They had the 'quality of life' talk last time I went in."

"Jesus. How do you pull off such a put-together life? A job, volunteering at the retirement home... I'd be a homeless wreck going through that. I've got all kinds of respect for you right now, no bullshit."

"You don't know the half of it. I can't talk to my parents about any of this. They're determined to carry all the stress for me, except they can't. They don't know about what I'm thinking of doing. They'd lock me up and I'd go crazy, and they'd put me on a whole pharmacy of meds. I'd be a moaning, pathetic vegetable until somebody finally pulled the plug, or my heart gave out."

"I like the death by rough sex idea better," I mused.

"God, me too. Can that be on the table, please? At least think about it? Here, take me to bed. I'll let you get a taste of it right now. Rip my clothes off and give me that little death with your fingers on my throat. We'll work up to the big one later."

"Well if you're gonna offer..." I grinned, relieved to have a task I could handle, even if I was unnerved by the thought of her actual death.

She talked like I was always as gentle as a lamb, but in truth it usually devolved into something akin to dogs fighting in the dirt; her teeth at my throat and shoulders, and mine on all of her sensitive skin. And you never heard either of us complain about it.

"And on a completely unrelated note," she said as I half-carried, half dragged her to her bedroom, "if you happen to need a place to store some rope, feel free to bring it over and leave it by my bed. We can tie it to the posts if you're worried about it getting lost."

"I'm sure there will never be a use for it in such a place."

"I'm sure of no such thing." Her eyes blazed with defiance.

"If you say so." I let a wicked grin break out across my face.

We reached the bed. I tore her clothes off with ease - she was wearing a very loose T-shirt and sweat pants. No underwear of any kind.

"Romance is dead," I teased, as she scrabbled at my pants, rubbing at my stiff erection through my briefs.

"So help me, if your cock isn't down my throat in ten seconds I'm going to start instructing you on feminist theory," she warned.

"Say no more," I said savagely, grabbing her by the ponytail.

I thought I was measurably restrained. My penis hadn't gone even halfway in by the end of ten seconds, I was sure. Of course, that was mostly so that I didn't jam up and get kinked forcefully into her molars.

As if reading my mind, she looked up at me and pushed me away just long enough to get a sentence out.

"You know, if you'd get some flavored lube, you wouldn't have to worry about dry mouth."

"Women these days. Not even impressed with a man that's hard for them inside of ten seconds."

She tried to stick her tongue out, but it only encouraged me. Bouncing my cock off of it kind of ruined the defiance she was going for the longer she kept it out, and we both laughed.

"You know what else prevents dry mouth?" I said.

"What?"

*GLLLKH*

"Sticking something down your throat and keeping it there," I answered.

She tried to talk with her hands, making gesturing motions as if deep in discussion with me, and making little noises in her throat as I pushed in and out a little bit. She got more animated, waving her hands and looking up at me conversationally, until finally she was running out of air, when she put her hands on my legs to push herself off. She gasped a breath in and coughed for a moment, then as if nothing happened looked up at me and says, "you know what I mean?"

I grinned wickedly down at her.

"Let's go over the finer details of those points, shall we?"

"As long as you flip me over and examine it from all angles," she shot back.

I fucked her face a little longer, then shoved her onto the bed on her side and crunched her up into a little ball, putting my elbow behind both her knees and holding her wrists with my other hand as I pounded her without mercy. Her sheets were wrecked even before I came, and she didn't complain even a little bit. She even made me breakfast the next morning. The world will be a worse place without her, I know that much.

*****

With the last of the candles lit, the scene was set. It was now or never. There was no question of the best time to do this.

"You sure about this?" I asked, for the twelfth time.

"Are you going to back out on me? Halloween night is the only appropriate time for this, and I'm not going to make it to the next one."

"I... No."

"I don't want to die in pain. I think everyone deserves to choose the way they go."