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She kept the 9/11 joke, Ava thought proudly.
It was 14 months to the day that Deborah and Ava had left Paris. And somehow, she found herself in Madison Square Garden again, this time with a booming audience who howled at the jokes she and Deborah had written.
It hadn’t been so hard this time around. Alanna Ubach let them book quickly, unwilling to endure the chaos of last time. And Bob Lipka only needed one phone call from Randi - who had, somehow, become Latitude’s Board president - to promise he wouldn’t buy out the stadium again.
The Little Debbies got first dibs, and general ticketing had sold out within 9 minutes. Deborah did her media publicity circuit, telling news and podcast hosts about powering through cancer, and how she had plenty of energy for the show.
That was all the public knew.
Perhaps some noticed that her skin was paler, that her hands held a tremble when she lifted them. But they weren’t sitting in the doctor’s office when the best medical care that Los Angeles - or the world - had to offer had told Deborah and Ava the news neither wanted to hear.
“There’s nothing more we can do.”
“How long?” Ava had asked.
“Six months.”
That was three months ago.
The audience laughed again, jerking Ava’s thoughts back to hearing Deborah’s finishing words for the story recounting their last day in Paris. Since Deborah had decided she wasn’t going to kill herself, she realized that she desperately needed those salt and pepper shakers from the Saint-Ouen flea market. Shakers that… had been sold sometime between her first and second visit to the antique shop.
She and Ava had ventured all over Paris to find the damn shakers and buy them off the new owners. Ava hated every aggravating minute of that stupid chase. She also couldn’t stop smiling the entire time.
There was a shuffle from the stage, and Deborah moved on to the next joke.
Paris was still hard for Ava to think about. Even the 8-ball in the club couldn’t help her stay in the moment, while Deborah danced to the only moment she thought she had left. The painful argument the next morning still brought shame to Ava’s chest.
She wasn’t sure what drew her to the cathedral as she roamed the city. She hadn’t prayed in a long time. She’s not sure she really prayed that day, either. She certainly hadn’t considered that anyone was listening. Just a little more time, she recalled thinking, eyes drifting up to the stained glass as she wondered why she would have any significance to the universe’s creator, even if there was one. I just want a little more time.
But as she lit her candle, as she sat in thought, her mind eventually drifted in a different direction. Let me be who Deborah needs now.
Another bout of laughter echoed from the audience, bringing Ava to reality once again. She smiled to herself, mentally planning her next couple of days as she’d fly back to LA to kick off the second season of Who’s Making Dinner?, before flying back to Vegas for the weekend with Deborah. Deborah had - begrudgingly - agreed to drive a monster truck at Adrenaline Mountain with Ava, as part of a rather annoying bucket list they had come up with together.
As the audience laughter died down, Ava checked her watch, happy with Deborah’s perfect pacing in the show. Just the see-you-in-Hell story left, she thought, glancing up again.
Deborah took a small step back, giving a breather to the audience, letting them collect their wits after the last joke ended. The night had reached its crescendo, and now it was time for Deborah to bring the show to a close. Ava could hear the chatter in her headset as the ushers were instructed to get in place for the post-show exit, getting ready to end the evening.
Ava watched as Deborah paced a few steps across the stage, bathing in the energy from the room, hand trembling slightly as she raised the mic to masterfully capture the audience again. Ava felt that familiar twinge in her chest, the painful ache of knowing that while the time would be soon, she was grateful that she had just a little more now.
With one more pause, one final beat to allow the audience to settle again, Deborah turned her head casually over her shoulder. One last laugh, Ava thought, as for just a brief moment Deborah’s eyes met her own.
And Deborah smiled.