AJ shrugged. “You said you were sick of living this way. There’s your way out.”
Noah stared at her. “Don’t you think the timing is a little arbitrary?”
AJ shrugged. “Does it matter?” she said. “You’re never getting better. What’s the difference between later and now?”
“I still have good days.”
AJ looked at him triumphantly. “So, if I’m hearing you correctly, you’re saying it would be premature to walk out when things are still good, even knowing you can’t get better?”
As they left the stage, Noah stopped so abruptly in the wings AJ almost rammed into him.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” he said.
AJ shrugged. “Up to you,” she said. “We could just go home and talk this out like normal people.”
Noah scowled at her. “You are unbelievable,” he said, and stormed off toward the dressing room.
AJ waited ten minutes before rejoining him. By the time she entered, he had calmed down.
“I’m not bringing this home with us,” he said in a clipped voice.
AJ stripped off her white shirt. “As you like,” she said from inside the fabric.
On Friday, AJ knew she had it coming. The audience, however, had no idea. When Noah burst into F and W’s house holding an imaginary bundle of fluff, they applauded.
“Meet Atlas,” he said.
He was the cutest little dog and the goodest boy, with big brown eyes andthewaggliest tail. F and W had never loved a creature this much. They lavished the puppy with toys and love and snuggles and taught him all kinds of fun commands:Atlas, oven mitts! Atlas, charge phone! Atlas, Macarena!Every time he mastered one, the audience cheered.
Atlas wasn’t merely a pet and a substitute child, he was also a born hero. When a robber attempted to gain entry to F and W’s house, Atlas barked them away.
“Attaboy, Atlas,” said Noah.
But as the years wore on, Atlas began to age. He had arrived at their hilltop after the Molten Ice event horizon, Noah explained, so he was not privilege to its time-stopping effects. F and W remained unchanged, but Atlas continued to deteriorate, until finally his health failed. Noah clearly had a lot of pent-up angst about Bud dying, and it was all coming out in this performance.
“I know what you’re going to say,” he said shakily, as he gave the dog dialysis. “You think we should put him down.”
“He’s very old,” said AJ, who was now forced to argue in favor of euthanizing their beloved pet. “He has no quality of life.”
“But he’s so precious,” said Noah, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t bear to lose him.”
“He’s blind,” said AJ. “His kidneys are gone. He can barely walk.”
“If he were a person, you wouldneverthink of killing him,” said Noah.
“Yes, I—” Noah’s eyes flashed almost imperceptibly. AJ glared at him. “This is an act of mercy,” she said finally.
The lights cut to black as the two of them gathered Atlas on a blanket for his final injection.
AJ could tell Noah thought he’d won by the way he took her hand to bow. And she let him go right on thinking it until their Saturday performance.
“This clock always makes me think of your old mentor, Bertram,” she initiated, winding the cogs. “It’s a real shame he just killed himself.”
F, Bertram’s former protégé, had been tasked with executing Bertram’s will. As Noah sifted through the bequests, AJ played a rotating series of figures from Bertram’s life who appeared at their house to regale him with all the reasons Bertram’s death had been a tragedy.
“He had so much promise,” said another former colleague.
“If only he’dtalkedto me,” said Bertram’s longtime partner.
