When was the last time Polly had sat down at the nickel slots?
God, it must've been the first week after losing Jean. She drove to a nearby casino and spent hours sitting in front of the nickel slots and drinking herself into a stupor, pushing coin after coin after coin into the little machine, trying not to cry and thinking about how utterly alone she felt. Eventually she realized that throwing money away wasn't the best way to cope with her grief, which lead her down the path to living in the nursing home. But now, sitting here again, the sound of the machines ringing in her ears while vodka slipped down her throat, Polly couldn't imagine a better place to be... ...or a better person to be there with. She grinned as she turned and glanced at Boris, who was also pulling his lever for another spin and finished his drink, setting it down nimbly on the tray between them. "This is my idea of a good time," Polly said, "You know what pain is. You know what loss is. You of all people know how much it hurts to lose something you so desperately want-" "It's all my life has ever been," Boris said, interrupting her. "Exactly! So you're the one I'm glad to be doing this with," Polly said, "Those other guys, Carol and Burt and Larry, don't get me wrong they're great company, but they don't know the feeling the same way we do. When you lose someone you love so much that it feels as though a part of yourself has just been torn from you, how do you move on? You spend the remainder of your life feeling like half a person. It's a gut wrenching feeling." "Can I have another Valium?" Boris asked, holding out his hand as he waited for Polly to fish her pill case from her coat pocket and plop one into his palm. He swallowed it instantly and refocused back on the machine as she took one herself. "There's no aspect of life that cannot be improved by throwing money away," Polly said, "People are far too financially cautious these days. Stock options, investments, bull pucky. Take a chance, have some fun, just throw some cash away at a machine for a few hours. You only live once, you may as well enjoy the money you have instead of the money you'll likely never receive!" "Hear hear!" Boris said, raising another glass with drink in it, taking a long sip. Afterwards he belched and adjusted the cap on his head before adding, "What good is life if you can't even enjoy it? Continuing to lose the ones you care about, and then being told to just make new connections, new friends. Why? You're just gonna lose them too! It's all garbage. Eventually we all rot and none of it matters, so you may as well, as you said, make the most of it while you have the chance to do so." Polly nodded, popped another quarter in the machine and pulled again. The lights around her machine lit up and it started blaring music at her. Her eyes widened and she almost hopped off her stool, much as a woman her age could hop, throwing her arms up in the air. "I won! I hit a jackpot!" she screeched, "I mean, only a few hundred dollars, but hell yes!" Boris stood up and throw his arms around her, the two of them laughing and dancing in front of their machines, as other casino goes surrounding them cheered them on. Yes. It had been a very good day for boris and Polly, which was great, because by the following morning, it would be the worst day of their lives. *** "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Father Krickett asked, standing in Boris's room as he watched the old man sink into his rocking chair, his face stained with tears. Boris didn't respond. Krickett approached, knelt and placed his hand on Boris's knee. Boris finally looked at him somewhat. "You know what happened," he said weakly, his voice hoarse. "I want to hear it from you," Father Krickett replied, "Coming from you makes it real. You need to say it, for closure." "...it wasn't my fault," Boris whimpered, his eyes swelling up with more tears as he chewed on his lip. "Nothing that's happened has been your fault, Boris," Father Krickett said, "Hey, buddy, nobody is going to blame you, okay? We all just want a clear picture of the situation and what lead you two to that moment, alright? We need information. I trust you, Boris, you're my friend, and I want to help you. Those officers out there? They aren't your friend. They aren't anybody's friend but their own. But even they recognize what happened isn't your fault, and they just want the truth. Tell me the truth. I'm your friend." A long pause entered the conversation, as Boris inhaled through his gritted teeth and he blinked a few times. "...Carol had caught her months ago, taking medication from the nurses station," Boris said, "I didn't think twice about taking it. We didn't even stop to consider whether or not we should be taking it with alcohol. We were just so...so fucking angry at everything." "I understand that," Krickett said, "Anger can make people do terrible things. Many things done in the name of God have been under the sentiment of anger. You don't have to tell me twice about what being angry can make a man do." "She was the angry one. I just wanted to be numb," Boris said, "...when can I see her?" "She's just down the hall, man. Just in another room, we'll go see her after this, okay?" Krickett asked, and Boris nodded. "I need to apologize," he said, "I need her to hear that I'm sorry." "I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Krickett remarked, smiling sweetly at the old man. *** Sitting in an upscale restaurant, having a fancy dinner with her winnings, Polly couldn't help but feel out of place. This was never the sort of place she and Jean frequented, and she certainly fit in even less now being the age she was. Boris, seated across from her, was cleaning his teeth with a toothpick as they waited for their main courses to arrive. Polly looked up from her menu across to his face, and she shook her head slightly. "Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, and he nodded. "Please, do," he replied. "I fucking hate places like this," she said, smirking, "These fancy high class restaurants where everyone acts so high and mighty, like they're the cream of the crop when really they're the bottom of the barrel. The absolute lowest scum of the earth. All their personality is wrapped up in money and fancy belongings and cocktail parties where they compare their childrens academic achievements the same way one compares a sports teams stats. It's sickening. Give me a dank old bar any day." "Well then what are we doing here if you hate this environment so much?" Boris asked, and Polly chuckled. "I guess every now and then you need to insert a bit of class into your life, even if it isn't entirely who you are. Plus, they're supposed to make an excellent steak. One of the bartenders at the casino recommended it for their grilling," Polly replied as she stirred the tiny plastic sword in her drink round in circles, making the ice clink against the glass; she rested her cheek on her other fist, elbow posted up on the table, and sighed, continuing, "I used to think the best thing in life was sharing it with other people. I don't know that I think that anymore. Now I think the best thing in life is sharing it with the right people. Not just anyone, but someone in particular. Someone who really understands you and gets what you're all about. Not just someone who happens to be in the same vicinity as you. That's why so many marriages of our generation failed, because people married for the sake of not being lonely." "Amen," Boris said, "I'm not saying I hate Lorraine, but I do think we got married primarily because it was what was expected of us. I can only say I'm so happy for Chrissy's generation, that that expectation has been not just shattered but laughed out of the room even. I'm not saying I don't believe in marriage, but I don't believe in it for the sake of marriage because it's what society thinks you're supposed to do at a certain age. You don't have to get married to prove your love, but if you want to, then by all means, go ahead. I think it can be a beautiful thing when done properly." He stuffed a small garlic stick in his mouth and then heard sniffling. He looked up, still mid chew, to see Polly trying not to cry. "I never got to get married. We called one another 'wife' but it was never official. I'm so simultaneously angry and overjoyed for queer kids these days who get to grow up in a world where their love is more recognized than it is shunned. Certainly wasn't that way for me. I'm proud to be part of the generation that broke the barrier, but I'm also so mad that I don't have what they get. My whole life, all because I was born at just the wrong moment in time, has been nothing more than a blueprint for everyone who comes after, and that feels unjust," she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and then setting her hand on the table as Boris leaned across and held it gently; she smiled and said, "After all, what good even is a life if you didn't actually live it?" Boris nodded, understanding. He sighed and looked at the ring on her hand, a ring he'd seen time and time again but had never put together before that it might've meant something more than just a ring. It must've been a band between her and Jean. "You know," Boris said, his voice somewhat slurred from the combination of alcohol and pills, "...I'm sorry I was so mean to you all these years at the home. I never really even took the time to learn about you, and I'm glad I got that chance now. Everyone has a story to tell." "Some people's aren't worth hearing," Polly mumbled, pulling her hand away and taking the ring off her finger before reaching back, opening his palm up and placing it in there, shutting his fingers around it as she added, "Pawn this for me. Keep the money for yourself, I just want it gone. I can't continue to live with a daily reminder of my grief, even if it's disguised as love." Boris put his hand in his coat pocket and nodded solemnly. Thankfully, the waiter showed up with their meals seconds later, and the two didn't have to speak much throughout eating. *** "You never stopped her though," Krickett said, "You never told her that maybe doing what you guys were doing, what she was doing in particular with pills, might be a bad idea." "No, I didn't, you're right," Boris said as the two strolled down the long white hallway, his hands dug deep in his pants pockets, "But even if I had, I doubt she would've listened." "She listens to you," Krickett said, "You're probably the closest she's ever come to listening to anyone in her time at the home." "She was going to do what she was going to do," Boris said, "I just...got dragged along with her, encouraging it, much to my future embarrassment. I just hope she'll forgive me. I need her to forgive me. It's the only thing that will allow me to move past what we did." "I'm sure she will," Krickett said, smiling as they approached the room. The two men stopped and turned to look at one another. Boris exhaled and looked at the door, then back at the young priest. "I need to do this alone," he said, "You understand." "I get it. Do what you need to. I'll be here when you're done," he said, "I'm sure she'll be glad to see you after this whole ordeal." With that, Boris opened the door, entered, and shut the door behind him. *** The hotel room was fancy. Spacious, well decorated and, because of these reasons, it felt like the very sort of place both would hate for differing reasons. As Boris raided the minibar, Polly stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair and taking stock of how their bender had thusfar affected her. She was feeling dizzy and lightheaded, but she was at least enjoying herself, even if she now felt somewhat sick. She reached into her purse, pulled out her pill case and removed three more serious painkillers, setting them on the bathroom counter in front of her. She knew she'd have to split them with Boris, but she didn't want to watch him damage himself any more than he already had. After all, he had Whittle, he had Chrissy, he had Father Krickett, and now his daughter - even with her memory problems - was awake once again. What did she have? She had a fucking hot tub. Polly took one of the plastic wrapped cups from off the top of the stack on the counter, released it from its prison and filled it with water from the sink before swallowing all three pills herself, and then shaking her head, looking at herself in the mirror once again. She looked down at the bathroom counter, at her chipped nail polish, and she shut her eyes, exhaling deeply. When she looked back up at the mirror, she spotted Boris standing in the doorframe behind her, and she yelped. "Don't do that, it's extremely creepy!" she said loudly, almost laughing, a hand to her chest as he chuckled and shook a bottle at her. "Want some?" he asked, "It's Peach flavored." "I hate peaches," Polly said. "Pffft, what kind of lesbian are you?" Boris asked, the both of them laughing as Polly sat on the side of the bathtub and held her plastic cup in her hand, twirling it momentarily before extending it out, asking to be filled. Boris gladly filled her cup, and then seated himself beside her as she lifted the cup to her lips and drank. "What's the plan for tomorrow?" Boris asked after taking a swig himself straight from the bottle, "Any idea?" "I never plan for tomorrow," Polly said, "I'm always surprised I make it through today. Why plan for something that isn't a sure thing." "How very zen of you," Boris said as she drank more from the cup, and then slipped back into the dry bathtub, laughing hysterically. He scooted himself into the tub and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her head to his shoulder. "...you don't know how lucky you are," she whispered, "To have something to go back to. I know it isn't perfect, but you have things that could improve your life. What do I got? I got a big ol' bucket of hot water. Really something worth sticking around for." "You got me," Boris said. "I guess," Polly said, "But you can't base your entire life around a friend. Not when you have so much fuller things to base your life around. I think that's what I've discovered about myself throughout my life. I'm just...a passerby. I'm not meant to stick around too long in peoples lives." "That's not-" Boris started, before burping and covering his mouth with his arm, "-that's not true at all! Why would you think that?" "Everyone leaves sooner or later. That's the thing being at that home has taught me more than anything else. Nothing is eternal except the ending," Polly said, "...when I was young, I could never foresee myself being old, and once I got older, I couldn't believe how quickly it happened, almost overnight in an instant. It made no sense. Yet, here we are, at the end of our lives, a moment we all must face, a moment that really - no matter how vastly different we may be in life - brings us all together and makes us all the same in death." Boris sighed and leaned his head back, exhaling loudly. "Damn," he said quietly, "What a bummer." Polly rested her head on his shoulder again and shut her eyes. "Boris?" she asked. "Yeah?" "Don't let them make fun of me," she whispered, and he nodded. "It won't be for a long time, but sure, I won't let them make fun of you." "Only you get to do that." Boris smirked and drifted off to sleep. When he awoke hours later, his back was killing him, the room was somewhat spinning, and he had a pounding headache. He groaned as he shifted in the bathtub and tried to climb out, only to steady himself on Polly's shoulder to do so, and once he'd gotten out of the tub he reached back in and grabbed her hand. "Hey," he said, "Wake up. Wake up, it's really..." She was cold. "...late." A darkness washed over the room. Boris squeezed her hand, and knelt on the bathroom floormat, leaning over the side of the tub and putting his fingers to her neck. There was no pulse. He quickly stood up, best as he could, and rushed to call an ambulance. Sitting there in the ambulance with her, as they raced her to a nearby hospital, Boris couldn't help but kiss her hands and cry, begging her to stay with him. It wasn't until he called Father Krickett at the hospital that the cops showed up as well, and Boris had to relay the whole tale to Father Krickett, who was the only one he knew wouldn't judge him. God bless that man, he thought. *** Boris shut the door behind him and looked around the room, sighing. He started to walk across the room, towards where Polly was laying, and he smiled. "Hey," he said, "It's good to see you. Um, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I encouraged us to do what we did, and that...and that I didn't stop it sooner. I just felt like we both needed to let loose a bit. Didn't know how loose we'd gotten until that morning. You were right, you know. I mean, about having things to live for. But...you were one of those things too. I think the friendship we had was maybe the most real friendship I've ever had, and I...I'll never be able to thank you enough for putting me through it." He felt himself choking up as his fingertips played around with something in his coat pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it. "I still have your ring, you know," he said, trying to smile, though the pain was making it difficult, "I uh...I don't think I'll pawn it. I think I'll hold onto it. That way I...I'll always have you around." He looked at Polly's lifeless body on the metal slab, still fully clothed, and he sighed heavily, his chest shaking. He slipped the ring on his own finger, and then he picked up her cold hand and put it to his cheek, shutting his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'm so...so sorry, Polly. You were the best of us all. I just....I'm glad you got to go with me and not alone." It was then, in that very small, cold lifeless room, that he finally knew, from that moment on, nothing would ever go back to how it had been. *** "You know what's awful about this pudding?" Boris asked as he sat at the cafeteria table with Carol and Burt the first week he was there, "other than it's just plain terrible? It doesn't have that skin. Pudding that doesn't have skin is the worst pudding." "You like your pudding to be as aged as you, huh?" Polly shouted, a few tables down, getting his attention. "Shut up, Polly!" he replied, the both of them quietly laughing to themselves. The best kind of friendship, after all, is the one where you never have to acknowledge you were friends to begin with.
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Standing outside in the hall, staring at the door he'd passed through a million times before, Boris couldn't help but feel...odd. Father Krickett stood right beside him, hand on his shoulder, grind on his face. Boris turned and looked at the priest - his diamond blue eyes and his ruffly blonde hair - and wanted to feel something, but he couldn't. He didn't know what to feel. All this time he'd waited for this moment, for his daughter to wake back up, and yet here that very moment was and he wasn't sure how to broach it.
"Just go in," Krickett said, "I'm sure she'll be glad to see you." "I just...I feel so awkward," Boris replied, "It's been so long. She's been in a coma for...for so long now." "I know, but think of it as a new beginning," Krickett said, "Everything will be fresh and-" The door opened, and a nurse walked out. She stopped and looked at the two men as she held the bedpan in her hands. After a moment she cleared her throat and spoke. "Are you the father?" she asked. "Yes," they both replied. "No, the father of the girl, not a...nevermind," the nurse said, making them chuckle as she continued, "Um, she's awake, but...well, you should walk with me a ways and let me explain the situation." Boris and Krickett followed the nurse, whose nametag read 'Jenny', down the hall as she took the bedpan to the bathroom. "She's fine, right?" Boris asked, "I mean, there weren't any other complications were there?" "No, she's perfectly fine, physically. She's going to require a few months of physical therapy to relearn how to walk, but otherwise she'll good as new. The issue isn't her body. The issue is her mind," Nurse Jenny said. "How so?" Krickett asked, putting his hands in his coat pockets. "Well, the coma has left her rather...scattered. This is normal, it happens to many people who awaken from comas. They don't really remember things from before. A lot of times they get their memory back, but...sometimes they don't ever regain it. Right now she's very coherent, she's very with it, and that's a good sign, it means her brain activity is normal. But she doesn't seem to remember her family," Nurse Jenny said, dumping the bedpan in a toilet and then turning to the men as she leaned against the stall wall. "What...what do you mean she doesn't...you mean she doesn't know who her mother and I are?" Boris asked, "Is that...is that what you're telling me?" "Again, sir, it's common," Nurse Jenny replied, waving a hand and trying to quell his upset, "And a lot of times, hell likely most of the time, their memory returns over time. So you have nothing really to worry about, because she'll probably be okay, but you should prepare just for the off chance that she doesn't. Trying to form a family with someone who doesn't know they're family with you is tough for most people, and often times they rarely get back to the state of family they'd once had." "So, what...what do I do?" Boris asked as they began to exit the bathroom. "Honestly, my professional medical advice? Just listen. Be there. That's all you really can do," Nurse Jenny said, "I have to get back and empty more bedpans. You fellas need any help, there's other nurses around." With that she turned and headed down the hall, leaving Boris and Krickett standing there together, surprised. Boris looked at Krickett, who scratched his forehead and exhaled, pushing up his glasses with his other hand. "So..." Krickett said, "Should we go in?" *** Polly was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, when her door opened and Carol was standing there. Carol glanced in and looked around, and - upon noticing the completed hot tub - smiled as she looked back at Polly. "It looks good, she did a good job!" Carol said, "Have you seen Boris?" "Not since yesterday," Polly said, "...why did you send her here?" "What?" "That woman, the one who installed my hot tub, why did you send her here?" Polly asked, not looking at Carol, still not even sitting up from the bed. Carol tapped her nails on the side of the door and sucked on her tongue, thinking. "I guess because I wanted you to feel like you mattered too," Carol said, "That you were our friend, and I figured it'd make you feel better to be around a pretty young woman. Make you not feel so...old." "...do you ever think you might fall in love again, Carol?" Polly asked, her genuineness catching Carol by surprise. "I...I mean, anything is possible, I suppose, but-" "You and Boris seem friendly enough." "Boris?! Please, hah, that's a riot, dear. No, Boris is nothing but a curmudgeonly amusement," Carol said, "He's a nice guy, he's entertaining, but he's not my type in the slightest. I won't lie and say I don't feel anything for him, because I do, but it's...familial, you know what I mean? Boris makes me feel like I haven't lost everyone in my family, in my life, because he makes me feel like a family member." Polly nodded and smirked a bit. "Yeah, I guess I understand that," she said. "Well, if you happen to see that sack of family garbage, point him my way," Carol said, as she exited, pulling Polly's door shut behind her. Polly finally sat up and looked at the hot tub. Had having that young woman around made Polly feel better about herself? That she wasn't sure of, but what she was sure of was that Carol was right, and she felt like she finally belonged to their group, and that Boris especially felt comforting, like a family member you just liked to be around. Still...she couldn't help but feel like something else was missing in her life, something she'd once had and now longed for yet again. Something like love. And here she was, at the end of her life - presumably - with so much love to give. And no woman to give it to. The thought just made her want to drink. *** Boris and Father Krickett entered the room and Ellen smiled at them as they strolled inside. As Boris sat in a chair by the bed, and Krickett stood by the window, Ellen watched them closely, as if she didn't trust them, let alone know them. Boris ran his hands down his tweed coat and adjusted the cap on his head. "Um, it's been a while," Boris said. "That's what they tell me," Ellen replied, making Boris chuckle as she added, "I'm...I'm sorry, I don't know you. They say you're my father, but I just...I don't really remember much of anything." "That's perfectly normal. Your memory will likely return the longer you're awake, especially with the aide of therapy," Father Krickett said, "Your mother should be along shortly, she was stopping by the restroom when we entered, so." "And you are?" Ellen asked, turning to Krickett, "A priest?" "I am indeed a priest, yes, but I am also a friend of your fathers," Krickett replied, "Do you remember why you wound up in a coma? Have they at least informed you of anything in regards to that?" "I remember I was having a surgery, but...otherwise, not really, sorry," Ellen said, looking ashamed. "Sweetheart, don't be glum about it, it's...these things happen, it'll take time but you'll come back to it," Boris said, making her smile. The door opened and Lorraine entered, pushing something into her purse and apologizing for taking so long before putting her arms around Ellen and squeezing her tight. As the hug ended, Boris found himself getting up and ushering Lorraine out of the room, back into the hospital hallway. "What is it?" Lorraine asked, as he shut the door behind them. "She doesn't remember us," Boris said, "The coma has given her amnesia. Now, they tell me that if we just work with her, get her into therapy, then perhaps we can help her restore it, but for the time being, she doesn't really know who we are." "I bet you're happy about that, aren't you?" Lorraine asked, surprising him. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" Boris asked, his voice growling. "Oh please, come off it, you've always wanted a second chance. After all, isn't that what the whole business with that school girl you're housing all about? Aren't you just really substituting her for your own failures and shortcomings as a father?" "How dare you!" Boris replied, snarling now, "I'm doing that because that girl deserves a better home life than the one she had! Every child does!" "Please, you're simply alleviating yourself of any guilt or responsibility," Lorraine said, "And I understand, Boris, I really do, because, god knows...it isn't easy to live with the things that have happened to us as a family unit. But at least don't try and pretend that isn't what you're doing, that's more shameful than doing it to begin with." "You don't know anything about me," Boris said, his voice growing quieter, but angrier, "You live in your fancy condo and I subjected myself to living in a nursing home so I could maybe learn to understand how to be friends with people. But you just...you stayed the same while I adapted and grew. You stayed stagnant, and now you're saying I'm the one being selfish?" "Not selfish, no," Lorraine said, "God, no, um...I don't know what the word is, but I understand why you're doing this. You want to rebuild your relationship with Ellen, but an Ellen who doesn't remember the accident, who doesn't remember you caused it, who doesn't hold any grudge against you for the loss of her legs. And I understand why you'd do that, I really truly do, but-" "You're unbelievable," Boris said, as the door opened and Krickett stepped out. "Are we okay out here?" he asked. "Ask Miss High & Mighty," Boris said, waving his hand at his wife. "Mrs. High & Mighty, is it?" Krickett said, turning to face her, "Mr. High & Mighty here seems to think there's a problem." Lorraine smirked at Krickett's attempt at humor and sighed. "He's completely impossible to talk to, always has been, always states nobody understands who he is or how he really feels or thinks," Lorraine said, "All I was saying was I understand if he's happy about Ellen's memory being wiped, because he gets a fresh start now, a clean slate, to build something new with her. Something not so tainted by her anger towards him for her disability." "I didn't cause the accident because I was mad at her about Soccer practice," Boris said, turning and pointing at Lorraine, "I was never mad at her, I understood why she felt the way she did, hell, I was never big into team sports myself and it wasn't until living in the home that I finally learned how to cooperate with others and be friends with people! No, I was never mad at her. I was mad at YOU. You pushed her into playing team sports when she so clearly didn't want to, and I was distracted because she...she sounded so much like you that it...it threw me, and I snapped, and I wasn't paying attention to the road." Lorraine stared at him. "What...what are you saying?" Lorraine asked. "I'm saying you are a bad person, and a bad mother, and a bad wife," Boris snarled, "That you pushed her to be interested in things she was never interested in, and then punished her when she wouldn't comply, and you pushed me to be just like you even though I'm nothing like you. She didn't have parents, she had hostage negotiators, and frankly, maybe you're right...maybe I am glad she doesn't remember us, but certainly not for my sake. For hers. She shouldn't have to remember people who made her youth so painful." Boris turned and started to storm off down the hall, as Krickett started after him. "Boris, maybe just come back and-" "Leave me alone!" he shouted, tearing away from the priest and heading through the doors into the stairwell. Only one person could understand how he felt, and he had to see her. *** Polly was seated in her hot tub, in an old one piece swimsuit she'd had for years. As she leaned against the bubble jets and felt them relieve tension in her lower back, she lifted the cigar to her lips and inhaled. She blew the smoke out and then lifted the small cup of scotch to her lips and sipped, just as the door opened and Boris stumbled inside. "Hello there," she said. "...let's get drunk," Boris said. "Waaaay ahead of you, pal," Polly said, lifting her glass. Boris snatched the bottle from the side of the hot tub and drank some, then wiped his lips on his arm and looked at her. "People are...shit," Boris said, "Just utter shit. You think you're on the right path, you think you're becoming a better more understanding person, and what do they do to you? They hit you so hard that you fall off said path and go back to the bad person you used to be. The bad person you worked so hard to stop being. People are garbage." "Amen to that," Polly said, taking another puff, "It just seems like being the worst version of yourself is so much more fun, and easy, considering that's what everyone wants us to be." "Then let's be the worst versions of ourselves," Boris said. "What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking we get in your car," Boris said, climbing into the hot tub still in his clothes and looking down at her, "And we drive to a casino, and we gamble until we're flat broke, and we take all sorts of pills. You still got pills, right?" "Got all kinds, pal," Polly said. "Good," Boris said, "Let's get fucked up." Boris had a horrible nightmare that night, one so bad that it woke him up and sent him to the kitchen for a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. As he yanked the bottle out from the cabinet and poured himself a small glass, he sat down at the table and sipped from the glass gingerly, savoring the ease it brought him in this moment of pain. He groaned and rubbed his back, which was having a rather nasty habit of hurting more and more lately. After he finished the drink, he put everything back and laid back down in bed, thinking about the dream.
A dream which would soon be a reality. *** "What do you mean?" Boris asked, sitting at the table as Chrissy ate breakfast. "My grandpa is in town and he's coming to see me," Chrissy repeated, scooping up some cereal and eating it, continuing after she'd finished chewing, "he's going to come here and get me and take me somewhere to get something to eat." "Well that sounds nice," Whittle said, standing behind Boris and stirring sugar into her coffee with a small spoon, adding after taking a sip, "Why are you okay with seeing him and not your parents?" "Because grandpa was always nice to me," Chrissy said, "Grandma's been dead for a long time, so I was always the focus of his attention, and he, unlike my parents, wasn't dealing with something stupid like a relationship." "Fair enough," Whittle said, stepping away and getting a carton of eggs from the fridge. Boris pulled his cap off and scratched the small bald spot on his head before putting his cap back on and readjusting it to fit correctly. He took a sip of his coffee and then took a bite of his toast before he looked back at Chrissy and sighed. "Well," he said, "If anything comes up, you know you can call us and we'll come get you." "I know, thank you. We're just going to the park across from the school," Chrissy said, "But I think it'll be okay. I have to get ready for school." Chrissy took her dishes to the sink, washed them and then headed to her bedroom, leaving Boris and Whittle alone. Whittle sat down across from Boris and sipped her coffee as her stove heated up so she could cook them eggs. She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. "You okay, man?" she asked. "I just...I'm surprised is all," Boris said, "She always made it like she didn't have anyone in her family, and that we were her family, and now-" "What're you scared of being replaced? Boris, we're not blood related to her but we give her a stable home, and in the long term, that's what she'll really remember and truly appreciate is having had a safe place to grow up in. She has every right to see her grandfather. I'm happy she has someone from her family," Whittle said, "I hate that I'm not close to anyone in my family." "You're not?" "You see my mom coming around?" she asked, and Boris grunted. She had a point. Just then there was a knock at the door and Whittle groaned as she got back up and went to answer it. She opened the door to Polly, who eagerly invited herself inside and plopped a small white paper bag down on the kitchen table as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot. "Donuts?" Boris asked, pulling the bag towards himself and opening it. "Yep," Polly said, "I got a bear claw specifically for you since last time I brought you donuts that was the only thing you complained about was that I didn't have bear claws, so to save myself from bullshit I brought one." "Gee, how totally generous of you," Boris said, pulling the bear claw from the bag and biting into it as Polly stood at the table drinking her coffee. "So what's going on?" she asked. "Chrissy is seeing her grandfather," Boris said. "Like, her actual grandfather? And you guys are okay with this?" Polly asked, looking between Boris and Whittle. "We're not her parents," Whittle reiterated, almost laughing, "We...we don't have much say in who she sees, especially if it's someone from her actual family. She's just our ward, not our child. We're just trying to give her a safe space to grow in while her parents figure some shit out." "They actually signed off on this weird little love in?" Polly asked. "They had to, otherwise we were harboring a minor, and that's, like, really illegal," Whittle said, finishing her coffee and standing up, "I have to get dressed. I have a second interview today and I have to be there in an hour. You two behave yourselves." "Yes mom," they both said as she walked off. As soon as Whittle was down the hall and out of immediate earshot, Polly looked at Boris. "So...spying on the meet up?" Polly asked. "You can read my mind," Boris said, standing up to get his coat, "Grab the donuts." *** Sitting in Polly's gremlin, Boris's hand in a bag of chips while Polly watched across the street with binoculars, she couldn't help but feel sleazy about the whole thing. She sighed, set the binoculars on her lap and turned to him, pushing her arm into the chip bag and grabbing a handful herself, shoveling them into her mouth. "This feels...wrong," Polly said, making Boris shrug. "I'm just looking out for her," he replied, "We don't need this man. He's her grandfather, but...anything can happen. She deserves to have adults looking out for her best interests. I'm just..." Boris trailed off and looked out the window. Polly raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, looking at him. "Yeah?" she asked. "I'm trying to be a better father figure than the father I actually was," Boris said quietly, making Polly's heart break just a little bit. She leaned back in her chair and raised the binoculars to her eyes, looking out the window again. They'd shown up here around the time school got out, so they knew anytime now Chrissy would show up. After another few minutes of no sightings, Polly lowered the binoculars again and looked at Boris, who was sipping from the straw lodged in the cup of a Big Gulp they'd stopped to get and share. "Don't you think this is an invasion of privacy?" Polly asked. "Who are you, Carol?" Boris asked, "She's the one who's interested in morally correct ways of going about things. I like you because you're so morally ambiguous. Don't go gettin' all goody two shoes on me now, okay?" "Yeah, but, I mean think of it, this is her alone time with the grandfather she actually has, the one member of her family she says really cares about her, and here we are just whole heartedly intruding on that space. That seems...I don't know, wrong somehow." "Do I look like a man who cares about what's right or wrong?" Boris asked, turning to face her, making her laugh. "Okay, Bruce Willis, calm down," she said, "I was just raising an observation was all," she replied, just as a knock came at the window, surprising them both. They turned to see Chrissy standing outside the car, glaring at them. Polly started to sink into her seat. "Don't move, she might not be able to see us," she whispered. "Oh please, she's not the one old enough to have cataracts," Boris said, leaning across her and rolling the window down; he tipped his hat at her once it was down and asked, "Afternoon, ma'am." "What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Just seemed like a pleasant day to sit in the car and look at the park," Polly said, "Is there a law against that?" "You knew this was my private time with my grandfather. What, you don't trust him? You don't trust me to make sound decisions about who I associate with from my own family?" Chrissy asked, making Boris's heart begin to sink at the sound of the anger in her voice. She furrowed her brow at him, adding, "This is really rude. I know you guys care about me, but this is not very cool." "Chrissy, we just-" Chrissy turned and began to storm away from the car, as Boris struggled to get free from his seatbelt and get out of the car, heading across the street after her, leaving Polly to try and follow them. As he approached her from the back, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder gently, making her turn back to face him. "I just want you to be safe, that's all," Boris said, "I know what it's like to come from a broken family-" "Yeah, but you're the one who broke it," Chrissy snapped at him, surprising him as she continued, "You weren't the child in it, like me." "I...I mean, that's true, but I..." Boris stuttered, trailing off. He had no comeback, she was right. She was completely right and he had absolutely no defense for his actions. They'd been well intentioned, but that rarely went over right. Now here he was, standing in the street, upsetting the one person in the world he'd tried so hard to protect. He'd yet again let another young girl down, and he felt a crushing pain in his gut. Chrissy sighed and looked back towards the park, at another old man sitting on a bench in a suit, licking an ice cream cone and waving at them. "I'll see you at home," Chrissy said, before heading off. Boris stood there and watched her walk away, like time itself had stopped. After a few moments, he heard a car horn honking at him, and someone shouting at him to get out of the street. He suddenly felt Polly's hands on his arm, tugging him off to the side, back towards the Gremlin. "Okay," she said, "Maybe we shouldn't stand in the street, god forbid people think we're senile." "...take me home," Boris said. "You got it," Polly said, as they both got back into the car and she started it back up, backing out and driving down the street. She didn't say anything, but she stole a few glances at him and noticed he had tears swelling up in his eyes. "Hey," she started, "Buddy, for what it's worth, I bet you're twice the grandpa that guy is." "I just keep doing it," Boris said, "I just keep fucking up and hurting people." "You were just doing what you thought was noble. Your heart was in the right place," Polly said. "How come my moral compass is so askew when presented to other people?" Boris asked, and Polly shrugged. "No idea pal," she said, "But trust me, I think what you tried to do was sweet. Trying to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in any way, even emotionally." "And then I hurt her emotionally." Polly didn't respond, and the two sat in silence the rest of the drive. Instead of going straight home, however, Polly took him to a small bar and grill and treated him to lunch and a few drinks. This seemed to lighten his mood a bit, and she was happy about that. She didn't like seeing her best friend unhappy. Afterwards she dropped him off at the apartment, stayed for a bit, played cards and eventually headed back to the home. After parking and heading inside, she headed for her bedroom, where she found Megan hard at work finishing the hot tub installation. As she entered, Megan looked up and didn't say a thing but did smile, and then she refocused on her work. "Boy what a day," Polly said, "Men are so emotional." Megan snickered a bit, and kept drilling. "...do you have a man in your life?" Polly asked, and Megan shook her head. "Nah," Megan said, "I'm bisexual but I don't really have anyone in my life right now." "Looking?" Polly asked. "Look," Megan stood up, changing her drill bit, "Um, I'm flattered, I really am. You seem super cool and really nice, but clearly there's reasons this would never work. Age, for one thing. I'm 24 and you're...?" "It's not nice to ask a woman's age," Polly said, making Megan laugh. "Polly, you're really great, and hell, if I were older or you were younger or something was different, then perhaps but, you know, people might think I'm a golddigger or something." "A golddigger? Do I look like I have money?" Polly asked, laughing, "Megan, you don't have to explain. It's just nice to feel like you can still like someone at my age and to not have it be so rudely rejected. So, thank you for that." "Of course," Megan said, "I should be done with this any day now by the way." "You wanna drop by when it's finished? Have a glass of champagne and relax? Mi casa su casa." Megan smiled and nodded as she pulled off her work gloves and let her hair back down. "I'd like that," she said. As Megan packed her things and left for the night, Polly waited until she heard the truck pull away and then, sitting on the side of the bed, started quietly crying to herself. She opened up a drawer on her bedside table, pulled out a bottle of painkillers and took a few, and then exhaled. She laid down and stared at the ceiling. Megan had made Polly feel pretty again. But her absence also made Polly remember just how alone she truly felt. Maybe the high of the painkillers would help a bit. *** Boris sat on the couch, reading a book when Whittle came in the door with Chrissy. Chrissy walked right past Boris and into her bedroom, where she quickly closed and locked the door. Whittle glanced at Boris, who didn't respond. She sighed and walked around the couch, sat on the corner of the coffee table and looked at him. "Look," she said, "I don't blame you. I think you thought you were doing the right thing. I just...I'm sorry she reacted that way, even if she had every right to." "Mmm," Boris said, nodding, turning a page. Whittle exhaled, stood up and began to walk down the hallway when she turned back and looked at him. "Boris?" she asked, making him turn his head to face her; she continued, "someday you're going to have to accept that you can't save everyone." As Whittle headed into the bathroom, Boris looked back at his book until a knock came at the front door. Boris sighed as anther knock came and he stood up, heading to the door. He opened it firmly, surprised, but happy, to see Father Krickett there. "Oh," Boris said, "What're you doing here?" "Lorraine is in the car," Krickett said, "She made me climb the stairs to come get you." "Get me for what?" Boris asked, an eyebrow raised. "Boris, it's...it's Ellen," Krickett said, making Boris's breath catch in his chest as Krickett smiled and said, "she's awake." |
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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