Keith finally told Marianna. It was a Wednesday afternoon. Marianna told him that she had gone to the doctor. She had some rare disease with little knowledge. No treatment. No cure. The only thing known of it, by limited number of people who even did know about it, was that the only known patients had eaten a lot of 

cheese

. Besides that you basically just had to live with it. For a short while. Until you died.

He was the one who was supposed to be dying. Not her. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell her. He thought maybe it'd make her feel better. She cried in response. Up until then she had kept a stern voice. Ready to take on whatever it was this disease would throw at her. But after Keith told her that he was dying too she broke down.

Keith wished he could hug her right then. What good was the voice he provided over the phone? It was all pointless. He tried making comforting sounds. He thought such was more for himself than her. 

gestures

more than real actions. There there, he said. There there.

Cal didn't know how to respond when Keith told him later that evening. They were drinking herbal tea. Caffeine free. Keith looked shook. Cal almost said his usual line. "Well we're all dying." Not this time though. He held back. Later on the phone with his brother Shawn he shared that two people he'd known up here were dying. His brother said sorry. Then he said the same joke Cal always said. That everybody was dying. After a quick laugh he then said "but for real. That's very strange."

"Yeah I don't think I've been this close to death."

"Well they're not dead yet."

"Right."

"Make the best of it. Who knows how long he'll still be alive. Did he say?"

"He said she only has a few months."

"No I meant your friend in space. Did he say how long he has?"

Cal had never asked. Next time he sat down with Keith for a long coffee he steered the conversation that way. 

"Say Keith. How long did the doctor say you have?"

Keith grinned. "About fifty or sixty years. Give or take. Barring any accidents."

"So you're going to die around like 80 or 90?"

"Yeah. More or less."

"So you're not sick?"

A smile sickly spread across Keith's face.

"Am I not sick?"

Cal didn't say it. But he thought. "maybe he was".