Calgary, June 2022
“I want you to fuck me,” said the woman sitting at the other site of the table in our cafeteria.
I looked at her, she was young and nice. I would be delighted to comply with her request.
“I would be delighted to comply with your request,” I replied, “but I must admit I don’t get demands like that every day. Any special reason?”
“I don’t want to die a virgin.”
“Are you planning to die any time soon?”
“Yes. I have a brain cancer and have no more than three months to live.”
That definitively got my attention. “I am very sorry to hear that. You are too young to die.”
“I know that too,” she replied.
There was a silence and then I asked: “You said you are a virgin. That is unusual for a woman of you age. Is there any special reason for that too?”
“Yes, there is. I was brought up in a strict catholic family where sex was allowed only after marriage and only to make babies. They say that’s the will of God.”
“But you don’t believe it anymore. You want to have sex with me to get even with you family.”
“With my family and with their cruel God who wants me to die in three-month time.”
“I certainly understand you anger and yes, I will fuck you, as you put it, any time you want.”
“How about this afternoon right after work. You can follow me to my apartment.”
“Sure. But I have one more question. Why me?”
“You have a certain reputation here. They say you are good at it.”
That reputation was entirely unjustified, but I didn’t argue.
“OK, see you at the parking lot right after work.”
When we arrived at her apartment, I wanted to talk, to find more about her, but she didn’t want to.
“Let’s do it now, to have it over with.”
It certainly wasn’t the right attitude for her first sexual encounter, but she was in no mood to listen to any sermons. We stripped naked, I massaged her back, then she got on the top of me and inserted my pennis into herself. What followed was the 11 minutes of friction, as Paulo Coelho describes it in his book appropriately called Eleven Minutes. When we were done, I asked her how she felt.
“Relieved,” she said.
“Did you like it?”
“It hurt.”
“It does hurt the first time, but next time it gets better.”
“Will there be a next time?”
“That will be entirely up to you. But I just want to mention, sex is not meant to be suffered through or used as a weapon against your family. It’s to be enjoyed, to make you feel relax and happy.”
“How am I supposed to feel relaxed and happy knowing I will die in three-month time?”
“That I cannot tell you. I can only suggest forgetting about it, forgetting about your family, about their God and everything else, and try to live the rest of your life as nicely and pleasantly as possible. You can always count on me. At any case, we will see each other at work.”
Few days later we were sitting again in the cafeteria, and she said: “I want to do it again.” We did it and it was much better than the first time, I even caught a glimpse of smile on her face. She also told me her name was Jana. Then, with time, we started to do other things together like weekend trips and similar. I also invited her for dinner to my place and eventually we developed a pleasant routine. After work we went to my apartment, had something to eat, had sex and if we had too much to drink, she stayed overnight with me. She was definitively happier now than when I met her for the first time, but then her father appeared.
We were in bed when somebody rang the bell and pounded on my door. When I opened, a man pushed me in and rushed into the room. “Where is she?” he yelled.
“Where is who?”
“Where is my daughter?”
“This is none of your business. Now get out.”
The man ignored me and tried to search my apartment.
“If you make one more step, I will call the police,” I told him. He stopped and looked at me with hatred in his eyes.
“You stole my daughter. She is here, I know, I saw you both coming.”
“I didn’t steal you daughter. She run away from you and your God. She wants to live the last three month of her life in peace.”
The man looked at me in disbelief. “What did you say?”
“She wants to live her last three months in peace,” I repeated. When it was obvious that he didn’t understand, I added. “She has a brain cancer. Didn’t you know it?”
“You are lying!” he shouted.
“I wish I was.”
“He isn’t lying,” Jana’s voice came from the other side of the room. She was standing there with just a nightrobe on.
“Jana, darling!” He run towards her, but she pushed him away.
“It’s too late for that. You are out of my life.”
Hatred returned to his eyes. “You live in sin and your immortal soul will go to hell.”
“This is exactly why I left. To avoid your preaching and your God. Now please leave.”
“Aren’t you going to say anything to your mom?”
“Yes, you can tell her I want to forget both of you.”
At that moment the man started to cry. It was a desperate cry of someone who lost everything in life. I even felt sorry for him.
“Sir, you better leave.” I took him by his arm and escorted him out of the door.
“This was pretty cruel,” I told Jana.
“They were cruel to me.”
We went back to bed, and I held her in my arms while she was crying.
If this would be a Hollywood movie, now would come a miracle, Jana would be saved, and we would live happily ever after. But this is not a Hollywood movie, it is only a sad story. No miracle appeared, and the day which we knew will come, did come. We were eating dinner when Jana complained about a strong headache. She tried to reach for a pill but couldn’t keep up her balance and fell. We knew what it meant. I drove her to the hospital where they did the first diagnostics, they admitted her and told me to wait. It took a long time for the doctor to came.
“Are you her husband?” he asked.
“No, just a friend.”
“Does she have any relatives?”
“She has parents, but they are estranged and not in contact. I am the only one she has.”
“You probably know she has a brain cancer.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Her cancer is now in an advanced stage, and she has only days to live. Also, we will have to give her strong painkillers to stop the headaches. If you want to talk to her while she still recognises you, come tomorrow morning.”
I did come, caressed her cheeks, and kissed her lips.
“Do you want me to call your parents?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Eventually I will have to call them.”
“Their phone number is in my night table.”
After that we didn’t talk anymore. I just sat by the bed and watched her.
It took one week before she died. The last day I held her hand and watched the heart monitor to stop. The hospital arranged for the cremation, I paid for it, and they gave me the urn. Then I called Jana’s parents.
“I am sorry to tell you, your daughter died two days ago. I have her urn and you can come to collect it. You know where I live.”
They came, I gave them the urn and before they left, I said:
“I don’t know if it means anything at all to you, but I loved her, and she was happy with me. Happier than with you.”
They left and I stayed in my apartment, alone.