She had to be quiet if she were going to continue to get away with this, but her nerves still weren't as calm as she'd liked them to be. As her hand turned the knob and the door slowly opened, she let out a breath of relief, like a criminal quietly slipping away into the night with a priceless gem. Polly slipped inside the room and - just as quietly - shut the door behind her with a gentle click. She then proceeded to pull a small flashlight from her dress pocket, as any light brighter than that ran the risk of being noticed under the door, and thusly questioned, and after turning it on popped it into her mouth and started searching the shelves.
She picked a few bottles, uncapped them and rolled about 5 pills each into her hand from each bottle; the way Sylar had explained it to her was that even when people counted them, everyone expects there to be at least a 5 pill shortage from the manufacturer, so it's rarely if ever questioned, and thus this was the perfect amount to take without raising suspicion. They'd gotten away with it for this long as it were, and what with the ongoing construction, it made it even easier to get away with because people were paying even less attention right now. Polly stuffed each selection into its own baggy, and then using a sharpie labeled the baggies by copying the name of the medication onto a sticker label placed on the baggy. As she finished and capped the pen, slipping everything back into her pockets, she turned and saw a singular bottle on a top shelf that read "Xanax". This was something she herself would like to have to quell her anxious nature, and she rarely took anything for herself, so she figured she was overdue for a little skimming off the top. Polly used her cane to pull the bottle down, but it slipped by her hand and clattered to the floor, making noise she feared would be noticed. She squinted, gritted her teeth and waited for the other shoe to drop, but nothing came, so - figuring she was in the clear - she bent down to pick them up scooped them back in the bottle, leaving five pills out of course. As she stood up, she then realized she had an issue...how was she going to get the bottle back up to the shelf? There wasn't a step ladder in here, and she'd had to use her cane to get it down, meaning she wasn't tall enough to put it back herself. She groaned, slipped a pill into her mouth and dry swallowed it before grabbing the shelving unit and, putting her shoes on the one below it, tried to boost herself a little, before realizing it was shifting and bottles started falling all around her. And then, as if on cue, the door opened, and two men were standing there with Caroline. "...fuck," Polly muttered to herself. *** "I was nice to you, and you stole from us?!" Carol shouted, pacing back and forth in front of Polly's rocking chair in her room as Polly sulked in the chair, arms folded, like a child being scolded. Carol continued, "Polly, we're both old, you could've just come to me and I would've understood, but now I have to be aware you're a thief, meaning I have to do something about it, and that puts me in an uncomfortable position. How do you think that makes me feel?" "For what it's worth," Polly said, "You never crossed my mind, likely because I try not to think about you too often. Your anal retentiveness makes me uncomfortable." "Oh, cute, so I finally take charge and now I'm anal retentive? I'm trying to make this home better for all of us, not just my ego, okay?" Carol said, sounding genuinely offended; she sighed and rub her temples, sitting on the end of the bed, adding, "...why were you taking them?" "Because there are people who need them who aren't here, who can't afford them, who don't get any help medically, and yet here we are, hoarding them like a dragon hoards treasure. It's selfish, it's cruel," Polly said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs, "but when people have it easy, they rarely think of those who don't, so it doesn't surprise me that those kinds of people never once crossed your mind." Carol was getting infuriated, but did her best not to show it. Instead of further arguing with Polly, she decided to leave the whole thing be and revisit it at a time when her blood wasn't boiling and the wounds weren't as fresh. Carol stood up, smoothed out her dress and headed to the door, but once she opened it, she looked back at Polly, who was still not looking at her. "You know," Carol said, "I always knew you were grouchy, crotchety, whatever term you want to use for being old and antisocial, but I don't think it ever once occurred to me that you really didn't consider yourself a part of our community. That you somehow thought you were better than anyone else here. Guess now I know better." Polly tried to ignore this, she tried to let it roll off her back like it didn't bother her, she tried to remind herself that she didn't care what others thought about her. But it didn't work. *** Sitting alone in the cafeteria, stabbing at some potatoes with her fork, not even eating as much as she was just toying with her food, Polly heard someone seat themselves beside her. She glanced over at noticed Boris was now sitting there, taking his cap off and running his hands through his somewhat thinning hair. He smiled at her and she just went right back to her potatoes. "Heard you got busted," he said, "Heard you were stealing pills." "Was trying to help people who can't get what they need, that's all," Polly said. "So you're like Robin Hood," Boris said, cupping his hands on the table and chuckling, "Was, uh, you know who paying you for it?" "Yep," Polly said, "Everyone was doing well until Carol showed up and wrecked it. Now I don't have extra income, Sylar has to get her fix somewhere else and the people we wanted to help don't have what they need to adequately curb their pain. Everyone wins." Boris grimaced and shook his head, glancing back at Carol who was directing some construction guys around the cafeteria. He looked back at Polly and shifted closer to her on the bench, lowering his voice just a tad. "Carol thinks she's doing the right thing, but to Carol the right thing is what she thinks she's doing, not what other people are doing. Lord knows I love her like a sister, but she's got control issues, and she thinks she's always right, especially when it comes to everyone around here," Boris said, before clearing his throat and adding, even quieter, "You want to know a secret?" "Do I have a choice?" Polly replied, scooping potatoes up and shoveling them into her mouth. "I once had an addiction to pain medication," Boris said, "So I understand where you're coming from." "How'd you get addicted to anything? You're like the most straight edge person I can imagine," Polly said, making Boris chuckle first, and then cough a bit into his elbow crease. "Happened after my car accident," Boris said, "I didn't go too deep down the rabbit hole, needless to say, but I certainly did some damage. After the accident I stayed out of the house for a while, got my own little apartment, and because I felt so guilty about everything I just absolutely abused my prescription. Which I was able to do easily, since I didn't have anyone around trying to stop me." "Jeez," Polly mumbled, "How'd you stop?" "Honestly, lost its luster after a while. I got sick of not being capable of accomplishing anything since I was messed up all the time. My shame of being useless overwhelmed my shame of being sick, so I decided to get help. But that isn't the point. The point is that, like you, I've been there. I know what it's like. Carol? She's not the same. That - coupled the fact that this could've gone a lot worse had someone else found you - are why she's so upset. People get angry when they don't understand things." Polly smiled, even just a little bit, but wasn't about to give in so easily. "Why's it noble what she's doing and not noble what I'm trying to do? I'm trying to help people too, you know," she said. "She might not think so, but I consider what you're doing pretty darn noble," Boris said, "You're absolutely right in your argument that far too many people our age simply can't get the help they so desperately require, and are in unfathomable pain day in, day out, and that isn't fair, you're right. I think Carol's more mad that you're trying to help people who aren't in the home instead of the people you live with." "Why should I care about the people I live with. All anyone's ever treated me like is a nuisance, an annoyance, an irritant, some other synonym for those words. I recognize that I never made myself out to be very likeable, but...but people could've tried to at least be my friend, you know? Why's the burden of trying on the ignored, not the one ignoring?" "I'm not ignoring you," Boris said, and she realized he had a point. After all the bickering the two had done, they'd certainly become closer friends than either could've ever imagined having been previously. Polly sighed and started eating regularly, as Boris sat and told her about his time with pill addiction. "It's funny," Polly said at one point, "I would've believed writers were alcoholics. You always gotta be different." *** Carol was sitting in her bedroom, talking to an electrician, when the door opened and Boris entered. She looked up and waved at him before licking the tip of her finger and, grabbing a stack of papers, handed them to the electrician, who then thanked her and exited the room. Carol sighed and set her work done, leaning back on her bed, breathing hard as Boris paced in front of her, looking at the things on her dresser. "It's exhausting," Carol said, "I shouldn't be doing this, I'm old, but you just can't trust this sort of thing to people who've never had to actually take care of things the old fashioned way." "Boy, you gonna start yelling at kids to get off your lawn, grandma?" Boris asked, making her laugh as she pulled a lighter out of her pocket and lit a cigarette, taking a few puffs and folded her legs. "I'm just saying. You and I, man, we're from before all that fancy high tech shit that did everything for you, that's why we're the ones for this sort of job. I'll probably put someone in charge once construction is done, of course, but only in a puppet sort of way." "Ah, going the Bush administration way, I see," Boris said, "Look, we need to talk. Polly feels terrible." "What else is new, she's always miserable," Carol said, taking another drag. "Carol, how can you of all people be so judgmental, after the things you've told me about yourself? She was just trying to help people who can't get help for their pain in any other manner," Boris said, "How can you-" "Let me tell you a story," Carol said, tapping the ash from her cigarette into the ashtray on her bedside table, "A while back, a young woman in high school died, a woman who visited me often, remember that? Remember how she killed herself because her father was abusive? Remember how - until I discovered her suicide note to me - I thought I'd killed her because I had been giving her pills?" "...fuck, I'd forgotten about that," Boris said, pushing his hands into his coat pockets, "Yeah, yeah I DO remember that, now that you mention it. But, remember, it wasn't your fault?" "Doesn't matter. Imagine had it been my fault, how awful I would've felt," Carol said, "I felt awful until I found her note. I...I can't in good conscience approve of what Polly is doing, noble or not, because I've been down the road of what happens when it goes wrong, and what it does to a person. We're all old, Boris, and some of us are going to outlive one another, and is it fair? Of course not. Is it right that some of us get well taken care of and others get left on the sidelines? Of course not. In a fair and equal world we'd all have the same elder care, we'd all have the same level of treatment, we'd all get to live as long as one another, but we don't, because this isn't a fair and equal world." "But, but you're gatekeeping, making it an unfair and less equal world," Boris said, "Look, I've been addicted to pills, you thought you killed that girl with the pills you sold her, but why should we hold Polly to standards we set for ourselves just because we've been in similar situations? She's..." He hesitated and sucked on his teeth, almost unable to believe he was about to say what he was about to say after the years of his and Polly's modest rivalry. "She's smart," Boris said, "She's smarter than me, likely smarter than you, and she's...she knows what she's doing." "I never thought I'd hear you speak kindly of her," Carol said, "That's surprising." "Yeah, well, sometimes you get to know a person and you realize your earlier judgments weren't actually as accurate as you assumed they would be," Boris said, sitting on the bed beside Carol as she handed him her cigarette and he took a drag himself; he exhaled and sighed, "Listen, I'll deal with Polly, okay? You don't have to worry about it anymore, how about that? How about we split the overhead on this whole nursing home thing and I take some of the problems off your back?" "That'd be a start," Carol said, smirking, asking with her hand for her cigarette back, "But don't come crying to me when she makes your life hell." "Believe me, nobody can make my life hellish for me more than myself," Boris said, the both of them laughing heartily now. *** Polly was sitting outside, looking at Larry's garden near the gazebo, when she heard gravel crunching nearby and spotted Boris coming to sit by her. He groaned as he sat himself down on the stone bench and plopped his hands on his knees, breathing hard. "I'm sick of people having to bail me out of my own problems," Polly said, "Been this way ever since I was married." "You were married?" Boris asked, and Polly shrugged. "I mean, I say that because it's easier than saying the truth, that it was simply a domestic partnership, but either way doesn't change the fact that ever since then - hell, probably before that as well - I've been getting bailed out of problems I started for myself." "Well, it's good to have people who care enough about you to do that, isn't it?" Boris asked, making Polly genuinely smile. "Since you did this for me, I'll stop signing you up to magazine mailing lists," Polly said. "Please, seriously, I'm sick of getting catalogues for kitschy new electronics I can't afford and don't understand," Boris said, "Except the lingerie ones, those are fine. Keep those coming." "You're so predictable," Polly said, scoffing as Boris reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy bar, unwrapping it and breaking it in half and handing her half. "And you're so not, that's what makes this work," he said. "You know," Polly said, biting into her half of the candy bar, "I could just sign you up for every single lingerie catalogue. Just piles of them showing up at all times, nonstop, forever." "No, the two we have is enough, people will think I have a problem," Boris said, making her laugh. "My guy, you do have a problem, it's me," Polly said, them both of them laughing now. Boris wouldn't say this, but he did admit it to himself, that if he had to have a problem, he was happy that problem was Polly. He wouldn't want it any other way.
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Polly groaned as she pulled her pillow over her head and rolled onto her other side. The noise. God damn the noise had been ongoing for months now, and she was absolutely sick of it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she couldn't take it anymore and instead of lying their grousing, she got up and threw her window open to see the construction workers outside. She glared at them as they stopped and looked at her momentarily before continuing, deciding instead to ignore her daily glare and do their work. After a few minutes Polly gave in, and decided to get dressed and head to the dining hall for breakfast.
Polly pulled on a pair of slacks, a button down shirt and combed her wavy faded blonde hair. She picked up the cane from her beside and then headed out of the room and towards the dining hall. Once there she saw what breakfast was, and felt a bit better. She always enjoyed breakfast. Polly grabbed one of the orange fiberglass trays from the rack and headed to the line, where she piled up on hashbrowns, bacon and scrambled eggs. She poured herself a cup of coffee and then took her tray to the empty table where she always sat alone. Polly set her tray of food down and then, reaching into her black windbreaker pocket, pulled out a small bottle of bills and popped two before washing them down with a sip of her coffee. Polly grabbed her fork and stabbed a mouthful of scrambled eggs, lifting it to her mouth as she watched everyone going about their business around her. Seemed now, even as an old woman, she didn't have friends. *** "Where do you want these?" Burt asked, holding a few potted plants under his arms as Carol turned from up on her stepladder and looked down at him. She hesitated, putting a hand on her hip and sucked on her teeth momentarily before finally replying. "I think those would best be suited in the front hallway, they'd get the most light there," Carol said, and Burt nodded, heading off with them as Polly walked up, still sipping her coffee. "Decorating?" Polly asked. "It's been a mad house," Carol said, sighing and wiping her forehead as she turned back to hanging the decorations over the hall entrances, "but, it's all for the best, you know? I'm trying to make this place cheerier, better for the ones who have to actually call it home." "Yeah that's great, you're a real saint, listen...how much longer do you think this is going to go on?" Polly asked. "...why?" Carol asked, turning her attention back to Polly now. "Because your admirable home renovation is killing me," Polly said, "Every single morning I have to wake up to hunky shirtless men doing construction outside my window. I'm not used to being an early bird." "Any other woman would be thanking me, but you have to find fault with a gift from god," Carol said. "First of all, that isn't a gift, and secondly, you're not god," Polly replied, making Carol chuckle as she stepped down the ladder and put her hands on her knees, catching her breath before looking up at Polly, who was shaking her head. "It shouldn't be too much longer, honestly. We've been putting in new plumbing and that's what most of the construction outside your room in particular has been about," Carol said, "Sorry about the intrusion, sincerely. It should only be another week. There was a lot to fix. It's kind of disheartening just how poorly run and underfunded old folks homes are." Polly sighed and folded her arms, as they watched a few female nurses walk by laughing. Polly looked back at Carol and furrowed her brow. "Where's Boris?" she finally asked. "No idea, he didn't spent the night here," Carol said. *** Boris was, in fact, standing in the bathroom of Whittle's apartment as he straightened his tie and brushed down his hair as Whittle zipped up her dress behind him. Neither one really wanted to talk about what they were about to head into, but they both knew that not addressing it would be even less smart than ignoring it. Finally, Whittle finished and came to the sink, pulling out her makeup kit and beginning to apply it. "We're doing the right thing, right?" Whittle finally asked quietly. "Of course," Boris said, "This is what she wants, so we're doing the right thing." "I, just...we aren't her family, no matter how things feel right now," Whittle said as Boris exited the bathroom into her bedroom and pulled on his sports coat. "We're more of a family than the one she left, or that's how she feels, otherwise we wouldn't be housing her right now," Boris said as he turned back to face Whittle as she finished her makeup and came to the doorway, pinning her earrings into her ears. "I'm just so nervous," Whittle said. "The social worker told us we have custody of her at the moment," Boris said, "They checked out her home, they know what it's like, and she has no other relatives to go to. We're a foster family. Didn't you ever want different parents growing up?" "I mean, sometimes I'd get mad at my mom and say 'I wish you weren't my mom!' but it was always in jest, in the heat of the moment, nothing sincere about it," Whittle said, "...why, did you?" "Of course not," Boris said, "but Ellen did." With that, he exited the room, leaving Whittle in her sleek black dress and high heels, sighing as she ran her hands through her hair one last time to get any tangles out. She never wanted to be a mother, even a foster mother, so she tried to think of herself more as an 'older sister'. But...she felt like a bad person for not wanting to help Chrissy adjust to her new reality, because it was a reality they all shared, and the more she tried to fight it, the less real it must've seemed to Chrissy, and that wasn't fair, she knew that much. Whittle finally exited the room and saw Chrissy sitting on the couch in her nice dressy outfit, reading a book and sucking on a popsicle as Boris poured himself a bowl of cereal. "Shouldn't she eat real breakfast?" Whittle asked, and Boris shrugged. "She obviously knows what's best for her," Boris said. This sort of thinking frustrated Whittle, but she'd bring it up later. Now wasn't the time to upset the balance. After all, they had a school portrait to take. Some of the money Carol had inherited she generously gave to a nearby private school so Chrissy could have a better education and a fresh start. Boris hadn't even asked, this was just something that Carol - upon learning of the situation - had decided would be a generous thing to do. But as they drove to the new private school to take a family portrait for Chrissy's file, Whittle couldn't help but feel as if they were somehow crossing a boundary they shouldn't be crossing. Then again, Whittle had never really felt like a part of a family, so maybe she was just scared. Yeah. It had to be that...right? The headmaster of the school was a young man named Kevin Arnold, who looked like he was the lead singer in a rock band, but dressed in a suit and cleaned up. He was extremely polite, had a radiant smile and was more than welcoming to Boris, Whittle and Chrissy. He led them down a long, clean, well lit hallway as they headed to the room designated for taking these portraits, explaining to them the process. His sparkling blue eyes had wholly entranced Whittle, and she couldn't take her eyes off his sandy blonde hair and his well manicured nails. "I looked over her transcripts and Chrissy seems to be a well educated young lady, and I think she'll fit in perfectly here at Middleton," Kevin said, "Do you have any hobbies? Any interests? We have many after school extracurriculars that you could join." "I always kind of wanted to play an instrument," Chrissy said, shrugging. "We have an excellent music teacher and a four time award winning band that would love to have a new member!" Kevin said, clasping his hands together in excitement before slipping his hands into his coat pockets and walking along side her, asking, "Any instrument in particular?" "The clarinet seemed cool," Chrissy said, smiling, bouncy, clearly enjoying herself. Boris nudged Whittle as they walked a few feet behind the headmaster and new student, and Whittle stopped picking at her nails and looked at him. "So?" Boris asked, "Any thoughts?" "I don't know," Whittle said, "I guess I just...I don't understand what it is we're doing. My family wasn't...I mean, my parents weren't bad parents, we just weren't a very tight knit family, so being this close and involved is...it feels weird to me, is all." "Well, this isn't your family, it's her family, so try to think of it like that," Boris said, before heading off to catch up with the headmaster and Chrissy, leaving Whittle to wonder...if it's not her family too, then what was the point of being a part of it? *** "I can't take it anymore," Polly groaned as she leaned against the wall, waiting for Burt to figure out what he wanted from the vending machine. She exhaled the smoke from her cigarette and sighed, shaking her head, adding, "She's doing this on purpose, she has never liked me." "Jeezum baloo, Polly, she's just trying to make the place a better home," Burt said, finally making his decision and keying in B8, waiting for it to register and drop; he continued, "it's not personal. She didn't make a deal with James so he'd leave her all his money so she could enact some sort of construction practical joke on you. You're paranoid." "I'm not...well, okay, I am paranoid, but not about this. She deliberately is making this go on as long as she can in order to irritate me," Polly said, taking another drag. "And why would she do that?" Burt asked, bending down to fish out his snack from the bottom of the machine, "She honestly rarely ever even thinks about you, let alone enough to want to bother you." "She says she's making this place better for everyone, but she never thinks about me? Sounds like she's doing it more for her own ego then," Polly said, making Burt stop and look at her, his hand crammed into a bag of overly salty chips. He swallowed, cleared his throat and furrowed his brow at her. "Is there something specific you want from this renovation?" he asked. "...can you ask, so she doesn't say no to me?" Polly asked, sounding sad. This was, Burt had to admit, the most human Polly had ever come across, and it honestly made him see her in a different light. He smiled after a moment and nodded, asking what it was she wanted. *** Chrissy was sitting on her bed when there was a knock on the door. She said they could come in, and saw Whittle open the door, enter, and then shut it behind her. Chrissy put her new schoolbacks into her bookbag and then scooted back up towards the pillows, pulling her legs to her chest as Regina stood in the center of the room and looked around. "I think today went well, right?" she asked. "I liked it there, the headmaster was really nice," Chrissy said, "You seemed to like him a bit too much." Whittle couldn't help but chuckle at this. "Yeah, I definitely did, I won't deny it," she said, "I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me, okay?" Chrissy nodded as Whittle sat on the end of the bed and looked at her. "Um...you consider us a family, right?" Whittle asked, and Chrissy nodded again; Regina continued, saying, "but...we're not like your parents, are we? I mean, you don't see me as your...like...a surrogate mother, right?" "God no," Chrissy said, making Whittle break and begin laughing hard. "Wow!" Whittle said, "That was incredibly rude and yet I can't be mad because it was the exact answer I wanted." "Boris is like my grandpa," Whittle said, "I don't see my grandpa a lot anymore, and I really liked him, so it's nice to have another wise old man to look up to. Boris is probably cooler than my grandpa, in all honesty. But you? You're more like..." A moment of hesitation, as she clearly thought about it, and then said "...the cool older cousin," Chrissy said, which surprised Whittle as even she hadn't considered this one; Chrissy continued, "Like...the cool cousin who's the black sheep of the family; the cousin who sneaks you into R rated movies and lets you use swear words around her." "...I totally am that cousin," Whittle said, "...Boris told me that it didn't matter how I felt because this was your family, but-" "Well that's a dumb thing to say for someone as smart as him," Chrissy said, interrupting her, "It's not my family, it's our family." Whittle smiled. A family didn't have to be made up of people related to one another, just as a community didn't have to be made up of people who regularly got along. Everyone was going to have skirmishes, issues to resolve, things to argue about, but in the end what made the difference was that you all tried to fix it and work together to make the living situation worth it for everyone. As Whittle left the bedroom and stood in the hallway, she couldn't help but smile to herself. She really was the cool older cousin, and that was something she didn't mind being one iota. *** Polly woke up and opened her eyes, still somewhat blurry. She reached around for her bifocals on the bedside table and pulled them onto her face with urgency, as she saw a woman - youngish woman with auburn hair in a messy bun, jeans and a flannel overshirt - measuring her wall. Polly waited to say anything, and then finally broke the silence by clearing her throat nonchalantly. The woman turned on her heel, thumbs in her tool belt, and smiled. "Hi, I hope I didn't wake you up," she said, "I'm Megan. I'm...I've been asked to renovate your room specifically, so I was just taking some measurements." "...no, it's...it's no problem at all," Polly said, smiling. After she got dressed and left Megan to head to the dining hall to get them both some coffee and donuts, she found Carol sitting at a table by herself, eating a few sausages. Polly took a seat beside her before she headed back and didn't speak for a moment, until Carol finished chewing. "Um...thanks," Polly said, "I know I haven't been the nicest person to you, or anyone, but...thank you." "Don't thank me, thank Burt, he's the one who made the request," Carol said, "I just paid the money and told them what to do. You'll have a nice bathroom with a walk in tub in no time. Didn't know your hip was that bad." "Been bad for a while, accident from a long time ago," Polly said, "I have to take her this coffee." "Though I suppose you could thank me if you wanted," Carol said, wiping her mouth on her napkin before turning to Polly, who was now standing out of her chair, holding the coffee and donuts. "Wh...what for?" "Well, I saw the way you looked at those nurses, the way you described the guys working outside your room. Sure, Burt made the suggestion for the renovation, but I'm the one who sent her there for you." Polly blushed, nodded, and then turned and headed back to her room. Carol watched her leave the dining hall, then turned her focus back to her breakfast plate. She sipped her orange juice, and chuckled to herself as she took a sip. "Lesbians are so easy to please," Carol said to herself, biting into her second sausage. |
About
Golden Years follows the exploits of a bunch of old people in a retirement home as they try to have fun, relax or come to terms with the soon to be end of their lives. Archives
April 2024
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