Story night this week falls on Valentine’s Day, so I figured I’d better put together a Valentine’s Day story. Yesterday I had a chance to tell this story at the Do Tell Story Swap in Santa Rosa last night. I’d never had a chance to tell/perform any of my stories before and it was so much fun. Of course being nervous I forgot a lot of details. So, here is the story in it’s full. Happy Valentine’s Day!

To be fair, she’d tried everything she could think of before going online. She let her friends set her up with their friends (they just weren’t into her), she tried blind dates (ugh, disaster after unmitigated disaster — do you know what happens when an unsuspecting dolled up dragon meets an equally dapper yet unsuspecting Duke at an upscale bistro. I’ll tell you this, no one was killed, but you’d never guess a dragon in A-line shift dress could dodge the spears of half a dozen bodyguards so ably, and the duke realized polyester was a poor fabric choice once Leslie started breathing fire). She tried singles mixers, she even asked Taylor the leprechaun in IT out (turns out he was gay. who knew?).

This is inspired a little by SpaceX’s successful launch of the Falcon Heavy this week, and also visiting the Blue Max and telling family I miss them. I’d actually had this idea for a story for quite a while but wanted to see if I could flesh it out in a concise way and still get the idea across. I hope it does. Enjoy. 

“Requesting docking at service port A1, over.”

“Shit, is it that time already?” the voice cracked back over the radio.

“No, no, Tilly, I’m here early. I wanted one last drink before we shut her down.”

“Yeah, about that, Jen, Hoss still says he’s not leaving. What’s worse is he’s got a bunch of the regulars who say they’re sticking it out, too.”

Jen ran her gaze across the spherical space station bristling with docking tubes at every angle like an outer space sea urchin. At the end of at least half a dozen tubes antiquated space ships remained docked. She sighed audibly into the mic, “This isn’t an option, Tilly. The Columbia is going to re-enter and there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m outa here as soon as my shift is over, but try telling that to Hoss.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” she said, then more formally, “Requesting docking at service port A1.”

“Yeah, Jen, you’re fine.”

“I want to hear you say it one last time.”

The girl’s laugh rang over the com, then she coughed and affected a serious tone. “Roger that, Tug D3975. You are cleared to land at Columbia service port A1. Landing port is green, over.”

Jen turned her tug towards the tube marked with the flashing green lights. She carefully slowed for docking and smiled at the maneuver – just about every other station had moved to auto-docking sequences, but seeing as the Columbia had been slated for decommissioning twenty years ago they never retrofitted the new systems. That also necessarily limited the Columbia’s clientele to pilots who could manually dock their craft, which to hear Hoss tell it, was just fine. The tubes airlock bumped against the hull of Jen’s tug and she waited to hear the anchor claws engage before she flipped the systems to standby and unfastened her harness. She drifted back to the starboard port where three indicators glowed green indicating her ship was properly anchored, she was now on station air and power, and that the port could be safely opened. Turning the handle, the hatch irised open and she floated down into the station tube using the rungs of a ladder to guide herself down towards the station proper, flipping her body around as she neared the end just as the stations gravity tugged at her boots. A moment later she heavily decended the final rungs to the floor. In the gravity she gingerly squatted a few times as if to remind her legs of their normal gravity purpose.

From the corridor ahead she heard the crooning of Willie Nelson singing, “Turn out the lights, the party’s over. They say all good things must end…” “Oh shit,” she thought as she walked towards the center of the station. The corridor opened onto a genuine bar that wouldn’t have been out of place in the habitable Earth cities, which, in fact, it was modeled after. A dark simulated-wood bar dominated one end of the room, only a few of its barstools occupied. Most of the low round tables scattered around the room sat empty, but a few older couples sat here and there nursing drinks and tapping their feet to the music.

As Willie Nelson faded from the speakers, a new song started with a bell ringing and then, “Hellllllooooo Baby,” “The Big Bopper, Hoss? Seriously?”

The huge man behind the bar looked up from a conversation with a patron at the bar and called across the room, “What? You got a problem with Chantilly Lace?” He waited for the beat then picked up the song and sang towards Jen, “Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a big eyed girl, make me act so funny, make me spend my money, make me feel real loose like a long necked goose — aww baby, that’s what I like!”

“You’re a pig, Hoss.”

“I haven’t denied that the 45 years I’ve been running this station and I’m not going to start on the last night.”

“Ah, so you acknowledge it’s the last night, then!”

“Oh, I acknowledge it, Jenny,” he paused. “But I still ain’t leaving.”

Jen took a seat at the bar and Hoss automatically poured her a whiskey and 7-up. “Hoss, you are leaving. And what the hell are all these people doing here still? I’ve got to decommission this thing in…” she looked at her watch, “three hours.”

Hoss looked at her, then turned to the silver-haired man next to her at the bar. “How do you like that, Johnny? The bastards send my own niece to push my bar into the atmosphere. That ain’t fair.” He shook his head.

Jen leaned forward and stabbed her finger at him, “Don’t you start, Hoss. You know damn well it was me that got Earth Orbital to ignore you for the last 18 months!”

His face softened. “I know, Jenny, I know. And I appreciate it,” he held up his hands defensively, “I do. I just don’t see why you’ve got to push my station in.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hoss, we’ve been over this – you’re going to burn up in 24 hours anyway. I’m here to make sure the station re-enters in trajectory certain to burn up over an uninhabitable part of Earth.” She sipped her drink and added under her breath, “not that there’s a lot of inhabitable Earth left.”

“This place is historical, Jenny. It’s the last Bigalow…”

“The last Bigalow inflatable hab, I know, Hoss. Earth Orbital turned down your request. And your appeal. And the appeal of the appeal…” she took a sip of her drink, then set it down. She sighed again, “Shit, Hoss, give me a shot.”

“I’ve only got Jim left,” he picked up a bottle of Jim Bean.

Jen nodded, waited for Hoss to pour the shot. She slugged the whiskey down, shuddered once, then set the glass back on the bar and chased it with another sip from her seven and seven.

“Hoss,” she said finally in a more subdued voice, “this is it.”

“I know, Jenny.”

“Then why aren’t you ready to go? Why haven’t you kicked everyone out?”

“Because we’re not going anywhere.”

Jen’s eyes widened in realization, “Hoss! No! You… no, that’s not an option!”

“Jenny,” he smiled broadly at her, “It’s not your choice. It’s mine. And everyone here wants to stay.”

“Hoss, no! I won’t allow it!”

“It’s not up to you.” Jen started another protest, but Hoss cut her off, “Jenny, there’s no place out here for us. What am I gonna do? Bartend in one of those goddamn hipster bars on Earth Orbital Prime? I don’t think so.”

“What about traveling? You haven’t ever been beyond Mars, Hoss…”

“Jenny, I was born on Earth. This is where I belong. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jen was about to argue something else when a short blonde-haired girl came in, “Hoss, I’m leaving.”

“Alright, Tilly,” he said, moving around the bar where she threw her arms around him and hugged him for a long time. After long moments she broke the embrace and wiped at the tears on her face.

“You sure, Hoss?” she said with a sniffle. He nodded. “Sure-sure?” He nodded again more solemnly. She hugged him again and when she separated she didn’t even bother wiping her tears away. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Bah, you’ll just miss the free drinks,” Hoss scoffed.

She smiled a sad smile as the tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. “Thank you…” she managed, “for everything.”

“You bet, Tilly,” he said, his voice cracking. When he had himself under control again, he started, “You head out now, okay?”

She smiled at him and nodded, sniffled, then looked around the bar one last time, turned and headed down a corridor out of sight.

“Best dispatcher I had,” he said, sitting heavily on the barstool next to Jen, his gray bar apron covering his generous stomach. “Well, I mean, you know, since Lorraine passed away…” He smiled at a memory, then looked up at Jen and she could see a tear start to escape his eye. “I’m going to see her again soon, Jenny.”

“Hoss…” she put her hand on his big arm.

He closed his eyes to forestall any more tears but shook his head. “This has been my home for the last 45 years, Jenny.” He nodded to the white haired man on her other side, “Johnny’s been coming here for at least 20 years of those 45.”

“35, Hoss,” Johnny corrected.

“Dale and Linda,” he indicated the couple at the table closest to them, “what’s it been? 25 years?”

The old couple looked at each other and an entire conversation passed between them without either saying a word. “27 years,” Dale said.

“Hoss…” Jen tried again.

“Jenny, it’s fine. It is. This is my home,” he said setting a wide hand on the bar. His tone shifted to nostalgia, “Did you know this isn’t wood? It’s metal they painted, but I never thought—”

“—it looked like wood so you and Aunt Lorraine hand stenciled the wood grain over every inch,” she picked up the story. Hoss started to add something and they both said at the same time, “even the underside that no one will ever see.” She smiled. “I know, Hoss. I know.” Now it was her turn to fight back tears. “Hoss, really, I can’t…”

“It’s okay Jenny. Really. We want this.” Every head in the room nodded acknowledgement.

She looked at her watch, then downed the remainder of her drink in one hard swallow and turned and threw her arms around Hoss. “Goddamn it, you stubborn oaf,” she whispered through her tears.

“I love you too, Jenny,” he returned with a sniffle. “You be good, okay?”

“I’ll try, Hoss.”

“You will.”

She broke their embrace. “Hoss, are you sure…?”

“Go on now, Jenny. It’s okay.”

She balled her fists and ground her teeth in frustration. “Damnit, Hoss!”

“Jenny, go on now.”

She sighed as Fat’s Domino’s “Blueberry Hill” started on the speakers. She turned and walked slowly to her corridor. When she turned around Hoss was back behind the bar, topping off Johnny’s neat whiskey. “I love you, Hoss.”

“I love you, Jenny,” he returned, then turned and took a bottle of Scotch to one of the tables.

She buckled herself into her ship and flipped the power back on and thumbed the de-coupling switch. Jen backed the ship up and energized the front bumper while she brought the huge pusher engines online. A light on the console flipped green indicating the bumper was solid and a moment later a chime indicated the pusher engines were ready. She maneuvered the tug to a rigid side of the station and gently let the bumper tap the side of the station before goosing the maneuvering jets to make sure she had purchase on the station before flipping a switch to magnetically lock the bumper to the station. The hull shuddered as it fixed itself to the bulkhead. She moved her right hand over to the pusher engine throttle levers and brought them just off of idle. She checked the computer to make sure her trajectory would push the station the proper direction. She nudged a joystick to rotate her pitch slightly then she moved back to the throttle levers… and paused.

She thought of Hoss. Of the regulars. Of Willie Nelson playing on the speakers. Goddamn, Hoss…

She pushed the throttles forward to idle and pressed the emergency release button. The tug shuddered as the bumper decoupled from the station. She touched her anchor button and let her tug sit stationary in space. In front of her the Columbia began to drift away in its ever-degrading orbit. She reached for her bag and the flask of Jack Daniels.  As the Columbia grew smaller she sipped at the flask. A few minutes later, she watched the spiky station disappear around the curvature Earth, and she closed her eyes. She suspected it still had a few orbits before the atmosphere’s drag would pull it in, but it was inevitable….

Jen capped the flask, placed it back in her bag. She switched over to Earth Orbital’s main channel and waited for the transmission already in progress to finish. Then she keyed her mic and said, “Tug D3975 to Earth Orbital, Station Columbia has been decommissioned.”

“Roger that, Tug D3975,” the monotone male voice returned.

Jen sighed as she changed her heading towards Leopold Station which had requested an altitude adjustment to avoid orbiting debris. First, though, she brought up her music library on her headset and sang “Hellooooo Baby!” along with The Big Bopper as she started towards the gleaming white station in the distance. “Chantilly lace had a pretty face and pony tail hanging down…”