R. Allinson: The Last Day on Earth

“This is when I’d normally Google the answer.” Lucy looked at the now useless computer that she could half-see through the door and sighed.

“I think it will be fine.” Liz reached for the decanter and poured them all a glass. She held her glass up. Lucy and Bill followed suit.

“To my wonderful husband and my darling daughters and grandsons.” The three of them clinked glasses and muttered cheers and took a sip. The wine danced across her tongue.

Bill coughed, and then held his glass up again.

“I’d like to say something before we eat, if you don’t mind.” Lucy and her mother both nodded. “I don’t know what our world is going to look like tomorrow, or if we’ll be here or not to see it. I hope that we will be, but… well, in case we’re not…

“Liz, you’ve been my rock for almost 35 years. I didn’t think it would be possible, but I love you even more now than I did on our wedding day, and you grow ever more beautiful with each passing year. You’ve inspired me and supported me and I couldn’t have asked for a better wife or partner in life.

“Lucy, I couldn’t be prouder of you. You’ve grown from my little imp into a beautiful young woman. I always knew you had a good head on your shoulders, but how you’ve handled yourself over the past couple of months has really confirmed it in my mind. I am one lucky father to have a daughter like you. And Claire.

“Claire… it goes without saying that we miss her terribly, and wish that we could have spent these past harrowing months with her and our grandkids. But life doesn’t always work out the way we want it, obviously, and now we…” Bill paused and took a deep breath.

“We hope that she’s okay, our Claire, and that she knows that we’re thinking of her and love her very much.” Bill stopped and took a big gulp of wine.

“I’m sure she does, Dad.”

“All right, let’s tuck in before all this wonderful food gets cold.”

Lucy piled up her plate with a little bit of everything (except the roast pumpkin) and a lot of the lasagne. Her mouth started watering and her stomach grumbled again. She suddenly realised she hadn’t really eaten anything yet today, apart from a small bite of Tim’s bread and an apple. Earlier she’d wondered how criminals on Death Row could possibly eat with their impending demise staring them in the face, but now she understood. This was probably — despite what her father thought and hoped for — the last time she was going to get to eat. Like the ride home, she wanted to savour it and appreciate it. She loaded up her fork with a large portion of lasagne and shoved it in her mouth. It was as delicious as it always was. The three of them ate in silence for a few minutes, too occupied with all the food in front of them to speak.

“Mum, Dad, I just wanted to say something…” Liz and Bill both put their knives and forks down and looked at her attentively. “This is probably going to sound totally sappy, but I want to say it anyway.” Lucy paused and took a sip of wine followed by a gulp of water.

“Thanks for being such great parents. I couldn’t have asked for better. I know I was a horrible toddler and a bit of a… challenge… when I was a teenager, and I’m sorry for being such a brat, but I really do appreciate all that you’ve done for me and taught me over the years and I know Claire would say the same if she were here too. Actually, no, she’d say it heaps better than I am but I… yeah, well, just thanks. I love you both.” Lucy looked up at her parents. Her mother looked like she was about to cry.

“Mum, don’t cry. That was about the worst speech ever in the history of speeches.”

“No, it was lovely. Thank you, sweetheart.” Liz sniffed and wiped her eyes. Bill leaned over and patted her on the shoulder.

They continued to eat until they were all full, chatting about this and that, steering away from anything asteroid or end of the world related. After polishing off two full plates, Lucy patted her full belly in contentment, and then squeezed in one last spoonful of sticky date pudding.

“Mmm, that was great, Mum!”

“I’m glad.”

“Looks like the dogs are in for a treat,” Bill observed, looking over the table. They’d all eaten more than their fill but the three of them had made barely a dent in the food. There was enough there to feed a small army.

“It almost feels like a waste, but then I think…” Liz stopped and let her breath out. She stood up and started gathering their plates.

“Don’t bother washing them, Mum.” Lucy smiled grimly when her mother looked at her quizzically. “I’ll do them in the morning if Cecilia doesn’t take care of them.” Lucy thought she’d take a leaf out of Tim’s book although almost regretted it when she saw the look on her mother’s face. Liz blanched, and sat down quickly.

“Yes, yes, of course. Funny, it still, even after all this, doesn’t seem quite real.”

“I know, Mum. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.” Liz took a deep breath then gazed out the window. The late sunlight was streaming through the window, catching the dancing dust mites in its gaze. “Shall we watch the sunset?” Bill and Lucy both nodded.

The three of them quickly cleared up the table, and took out the leftovers for the dogs. The four dogs were ecstatic. Their whole bodies seemed to be wagging in glee at the pile of food in front of them. Even Matilda, the cat, ventured away from her kittens to sniff at the roast chicken. She furtively ate it while warily watching the dogs. They were too engrossed in eating to even notice the cat. Chasing Matilda had been some of the younger dogs’ favourite pastime when they were pups. Lucy had been worried about her until one day she saw the cat giving as good as she got, chasing the pups right back.

“Come on, Lucy!” Lucy heard her mother call. She strode around to the front of the house. Her mother was perched up on the roof and her father was halfway up the ladder, passing a bottle of wine and three glasses up to her.

Lucy scrambled up the ladder to join them. The spot her mother had chosen had a sweeping view of the paddocks and creek and the vivid pink and red sunset. Lucy warily looked up at the sky. She couldn’t see anything other than the early evening stars that had started to peek out. She focused back on the sunset. It was stunning. She leaned against her mother and let out a deep breath that she didn’t even realise she’d been holding. Liz put her arm around her and held her close. Bill settled himself on the other side of Lucy and wrapped both women in his strong arms. When she’d been a child, this was the safest place in her world. A big part of Lucy wished she still was a child and that any problem could be fixed with a big hug from her father.

They sat like that for a few minutes, soaking up the last rays of the dying sun. Lucy’s eyes followed when Bill pointed wordlessly. A mob of kangaroos bounded across the floodplain next to the creek. They watched in silence until the kangaroos were out of sight.

Bill handed them each a wine glass and balanced his between his knees as he unscrewed the wine bottle. It was one of their usual wines this time, nothing fancy. He poured it into the glasses, and almost spilled his glass all over himself, but was saved by Lucy’s mother’s quick hands. He let the empty bottle roll down into the gutter.

They clinked glasses and sipped the wine. Normally Lucy liked this brand just fine, but it was a bit disappointing to her taste buds after the Grange. They drank in silence, listening to the birds sing out the day, admiring the sunset and taking comfort in each other’s presence.

Lucy watched the sun disappear below the horizon with a sinking heart. Her chest felt tight; she’d just seen her last sunset. They sat in the growing dusk. Bill was the first to stir, slapping at a mosquito on his arm.