Taunnie

The small pocket of the world around your booth at the roadside diner was a faded, monochrome snippet of what your reality had become following Taunnie’s news. The pale blue of the ceramic coffee mugs playing in the whites of her eyes, the powder-blue of the scattered sweetener packets, the overripe blueberries on her untouched plate of food. The ink on the oncologist’s medical report, laid open between the two of you on the table. “Glioblastoma Multiforme”. It felt like a gavel landing with cold finality on your aching heart. She had perhaps three months with any quality of life left. The short time afterward would be fraught with dignity-robbing symptomalogy that you mutually agreed you’d help her check out ahead of. This was it. A handful of weeks that would serve as your final chapter in a life well-lived. Your journey together was punctuated by laughter and tears, world travel, two kids having graduate high school with honors, and a family business that served as a beacon to the community, bringing wealth and internal fulfillment. Despite a life that could sincerely be regarded as perfect, you look to your love now, idly rotating her coffee mug on the table, and ask her the question anyone in this moment would ask. “What else can we do before…you know? What is one thing you wished you had done but never did? It’s bucket-list time, honey.” Taunnie looks at you with a bit of trepidation adding a tremble to her voice and answers with raw honestly and a subtle note of fear in her eyes. “Two guys at the same time?” Your surprise sends a spray of coffee onto the open medical report, constellation of caffeinated speckles giving shape to your shock. “You’re serious?!” Taunnie shrugs slowly, an apologetic smile at the corners of her mouth just before her gaze falls to the table. “Maybe three even?” Her face turns crimson, adding a hue to this muted heartache that to you seems at once vulnerable and heart wrenching in an altogether new way.