Pene sipped her tea, hoping that the herbs would work quickly to ease the gnawing of her joints. Rita set a small plate on the table beside her. Pene glanced at the egg and toast, then went back to her tea.
"You need to eat," Rita stated.
"Need I?"
She didn't look at her. She didn't look at any of them any more. When she had believed that she was dying and had closed her eyes that last time, she had lost her family forever.
"You will feel better if you eat something," Rita said as she went back into the house.
Pene gave a short snort in reply. Eggs and toast weren't going to cure her of anything. She watched the people as they passed by, going about their lives. As each person passed, she imagined where they were going. It is a small camp and she had known most of these people all of her life. Most of them walked by without looking at her. She didn't blame them. What do you say to the dead?
Chris stopped in the middle of the road and stared at Pene a long time before walking up to the porch.
"Good morning," Chris said. She sat in one of the other chairs, choosing one that allowed them to continue to look at each other.
Pene nodded at her, already feeling tired with the exchange.
Silence settled between them. Rita brought out more tea. Pene went back to watching the people passing by. Chris hummed to herself while she fiddle with the buttons on her vest.
"What's it like?" Chris asked, still looking at the buttons.
"What?" Pene looked at her.
"What's it like being dead?" Chris slid her glasses back up her nose after briefly making eye contact by looking over them. With the glasses back in place, her eyes were hidden behind the blue lens.
Pene chuffed.
"I don't know. I don't have any memory of being dead," Pene said.
Chris nodded. "That makes sense. I suppose your brain can't make meories if your body isn't functioning."
"Apparently not," Pene agreed.
Pene watched the people and Chris fiddled with her buttons.
"What's it like being a miracle?" Chris asked.
Pene coughed and spit some of her tea. "Miracle?"
"That's what people are saying," Chris stated.
"Well, people are stupid," Pene said.
"That's true enough." Chris sipped at her own tea. "They just can't understand the science of it."
Shifting herself in her wheelchair, Pene silently wished that there had been more herbs in her cup. Rita never gave her enough.
"Doesn't really change the question though," Chris said.
"I suppose not."
Pene set down her cup and looked directly at Chris.
"It's strange. For me, nothing has changed. I sit here on my porch and I watch the people go by. Most are too uncomfortable to talk to me. Few know what to say. Just like always, I'm just waiting to die. But foe them, everything is different. They think that I represent a promise for their own immortality, but they don't even understand what it is that they are asking for."
"So, being immortal isn't great?" Chris asked.
"It hasn't been for me," Pene admitted.
"If you could, would you choose to die right now?" Chris leaned forward in her chair.
"Yes."
"Then why don't you?" Chris asked.
Pene rolled her eyes. "My husband would just get the rights to my body and bring me back again."
"Get a divorce," Chris said.
Blinking hard, she thought about the implications.
"I don't think that my son would choose anything different for me," Pene said.
"Then marry someone who will leave you dead," Chris said.
"Like who?"
"I'm single."
Chris grinned, exposing too many teeth.
Pene chuffed. "I couldn't afford a divorce and why would you want to marry a dying woman?"
"I'll pay for the divorce," Chris shrugged "And the marriage."
After a pause, "What's in it for you?"
"Research. I want to measure your death."
