Morning Star

He felt her stirring. Rolling over to face her, he saw her eyes, still closed. He wasn’t fooled, though. She was awake. “I’m going to do everything I can to outlive you, you know that?”

She opened her eyes.  “I’m sure you’ll outlive me.”

“You’re eight years younger than I am. Don’t be so sure.”

“You will, just so you can marry Barbara DeStefano.”

“No, marrying Barbara DeStefano would only be fun if you’re still alive.”

“You’re a miserable bastard, you know that?”

“Perhaps,” he said, “But still I want to outlive you.”

She glanced at the clock and moaned. “Obviously, you want me to ask you why,” she said.

“So I can make sure your gravestone says, ‘She never amounted to nothing.’ Double negative aside, your mother’s famous prediction for you.”

“At least you’d be telling the truth for once in your life.”

“That you never amounted to anything?”

“I haven’t done much.”

“You spent your childhood living in a trailer with neglectful, drug addicted parents. You left the day you graduated high school and went to work. Put yourself through school as I recall.” He folded his pillow and put it behind his head.

“I know what I’ve done with my life, dear.”

“Then you started work as a management trainee in a department store. You were vice president of merchandising when you left. You started your own business and made a small fortune.” He paused, pretending he needed a moment to remember what came next. “You have two happy and well-adjusted kids, and a semi-literate, but faithful, husband. What more can a woman who started at absolute zero ask for?” 

She closed her eyes and turned on her side, away from him. “A chance to sleep for another thirty minutes?”

“I saw the application on your desk,” he said.

“You mean you read the application on my desk. What of it?”

“You want to learn to fly now?”

“I’ve always wanted to fly. You know that.”

“Yes, but I also know a single engine, Beechcraft Bonanza won’t be the end of it. You won’t be satisfied until you’re checked out to fly a Boeing 777.  And even then, you’ll believe you’ll never amount to nothing.”

“I’m surprised at you. I would never shoot that low. I plan on flying NASA’s Orion spacecraft so I can explore deep space.”

“The deep space I’m worried about is the one in your brain that keeps trying to prove your mother is wrong. She is. Do you have to leave the planet to prove it?”

“Isn’t it your turn to make the coffee?” She asked.

“I turned 66 yesterday. My first Social Security check is in the mail. I’m retired.”

She laughed, a good sign. “After all these years, I just realized that’s the difference between us, you know that?”

“Meaning what?”

“Your mother must have told you, “As long as you’re breathing you’re a star. She drilled that into you, didn’t she?”

“I’ll make the coffee, but if you think I’m coming to Cape Canaveral when you launch, you have another think coming.”

“Got it. Wake me up when the coffee’s ready.”