It wasn't really fair; Boris spent most of his time either at the hospital or the home, and he didn't particularly care to be at either one. Sitting here now, with Father Kricket, waiting for Lorraine to show up. Boris sighed and checked his watch, as Father Kricket read a book across from him, them both sitting next to Ellens bedside. Boris sighed again, folded his arms and shook his head.
"Patience is a virtue," Father Kricket said, without looking up, turning a page in his book. "Patience is a waste of time," Boris said, "You're just giving others carte blanche to throw your precious time away and I don't know about you, but I'm pretty old and I ain't got much time left, and frankly, I'd prefer not to spend what little time I do have in this place." "You have to learn to be patient, it isn't something that comes naturally, it's a skill, like cooking," Father Kricket said, leaning forward and resting the closed book on his lap, continuing, "When I was in college, I was interested in this girl but I wasn't sure she was interested in me, and at the same time I was thinking of switching colleges but I wanted to see if things would work out with her first, so I waited for her to make her decision and until she did, I wouldn't switch schools. It taught me to bide my time and wait for the right choice to show itself." "You know, sometimes, listening to you is like having a conversation with a hostage negotiator. You know what I mean? Everything you say sounds logical, it very well may be the right way to feel in fact, but god knows I don't wanna hear it," Boris said, making Father Kricket smirk. "That's what I'm here for. To help people along, especially when they don't want it," he said. Boris looked at Ellen and put his hand on the sheet over her legs. He thought about the last conversation they'd had before she went under for her operation, and wondered how such a thing could result in this sort of situation. The door opened and Lorraine entered, making Boris scoff as she shut the door behind her and sat down at the end of the bed. "Well, what're we doing here?" Lorraine asked after a minute. "We're here to say a prayer," Boris said, "Or does that cut into your 'me' time?" "For your information, all my free time is my me time because I don't have anyone else in my life to deal with, so," Lorraine replied, fishing through her purse for some gum as Father Kricket leaned forward and cupped his hands on his lap. "Let's not bring negative energy into the room," he said calmly, "Let's approach this like rational adults, alright? We're all capable of being in complete control of our own emotions, so let's try that. We're here for Ellen, remember that? Not for you two, but for her, so let's stay focused on that." "I'm sorry," Boris said, continuing to rub Ellens hand, "So I'm not a particularly religious person, is there a sort of non partisan prayer we can do? One that ensures she'll be okay even if I go to hell?" "Certainly," Father Kricket said, laughing, "The thing about prayer is there's no set rule on how they must be said or anything. They can be made up on the spot, so just say whatever comes to your mind. Boris, if you'd like to start, you're welcome to." Boris cleared his throat and squeezed her hand as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Dear god, please let my daughter wake up, let her go on to bigger and better things, lord knows she deserves it. Please do not punish her for our misdeeds. MY misdeeds. She is not me, she is her own person and she deserves to be judged accordingly so," Boris said, "...I love her, please just protect her and let her wake up." "That was beautiful Boris," Father Kricket said, then, turning his gaze to Lorraine, he added, "Would you like to go?" "Certainly," Lorraine said, "Dear god, please give my husband and I something else to do besides grieve over someone who isn't even dead yet. And please don't let my husband see this as something to make about himself." "Gee, you're a riot," Boris said, glaring at her, "This is supposed to make us feel better." "There's no feeling better about this, Boris, and in fact, I think it's time we let it go and take her off life support. They say that after 3 months nobody comes out of a coma generally, or at the very least, the chances drop dramatically." "It's barely been a month and a half," Boris said, sounding annoyed now, "How about, if that's the case, we at least get to the third month and see what happens before we write our only child a one way ticket to the afterlife." Lorraine leaned back and crossed her legs, groaning as Father Kricket shifted in his seat and looked at Boris. He fumbled with his bible before standing up and finally setting it down on his chair as he stood up and headed for the door. "I, uh...I am going to head to the snack machine, if anyone would like anything?" he asked, but neither one responded, so he politely nodded, opened the door and exited the room. Boris looked at Lorraine and ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry," he said, "I know this hurts you too, I'm not making this about me, I hope you know that. I hope you don't think I'm the same man that I was before. I'm not saying I'm totally better now, but I like to think that I've grown a bit in the last year or so, and I'm still trying to change for what it's worth." "I believe you," Lorraine said, "But I'm still going to blame you." "Why?!" "Because if I don't...I have to blame myself, and I...I don't think I could handle accepting that guilt," Lorraine said, near tears. Boris understood that line of thought, though. He stood up, patted her on the back as he passed by her and exited out into the hallway. He spotted Father Kricket standing near the snack machine, eating from a bag of chips. Boris strolled up to him and stopped beside him, leaning against the wall as Father Kricket put the bag in front of him, offering him some chips. "I never speak ill of people, but I have to say...she's hard to deal with," Father Kricket said, making Boris smirk. "She's not hard to deal with," he replied, "She's just like anyone else. She's reacting, understandably, to something that's terrible, that's affecting her, and has affected someone dear to her. I think, more than anything, what she's actually upset about is that Ellen came to ME instead of HER before her surgery and tried to talk to me." "I could see that. She might take it personally, making her question her worth," Father Kricket said, putting a chip in his mouth and eating it before adding, "That's why we shouldn't take her attitude personally, because she's already judging herself far more harshly than we ever would. She's forcing herself to suffer, so we shouldn't add onto that. We should be helping her." "Exactly. I couldn't agree more," Boris said, "If there's one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that I don't need other people hating me. I hate myself enough as it is. Don't need any help in that department." Father Kricket chuckled as he crumpled the chip bag and tossed it into a garbage can across from them. He sighed, adjusted his collar and looked at Boris, who looked up from his shoes to Father Kricket, their eyes locking for a moment. "Come on, let's get back to the room," he said, Boris nodding in understanding as the two turned on their heels and headed back to Ellens room. As they arrived, Lorraine was coming out, pulling the strap on her purse up over her shoulder, adjusting it. She stopped and let them in before passing them. Boris turned and followed her, abandoning Father Kricket in the room. Boris walked with Lorraine down the hall, towards the main lobby. "So you're just leaving?" he asked, "We're done today?" "I can't sit there with her," Lorraine said, "I just...can't." "I know, it's hard." Lorraine stopped, her back still to him, and she sniffled before saying, "She didn't have to do this." "...do what?" "Have the surgery." "Sure she didn't have to, but she wanted to and that's her decision. I was more than supportive." "But she wasn't broken," Lorraine said, "She's always acted like she's been broken but that's because of the bullshit lense society puts on those with disabilities. She wasn't broken. She was still Ellen. She could've done anything she wanted just as she was." "I agree with you," Boris said, "But...nonetheless, she made a decision about her own life and I stood by her." "Do you still?" "Excuse me?" "Do you still stand by her decision, even now, while watching her lay in that bed, struggling to even live?" Lorraine asked, "Because if you do...then I don't exactly know where you stand. I don't know how you can support a decision that nearly killed her." "You can support something in the moment and not support it in retrospect." "Certainly, but perhaps had you not supported it to begin with, she-" "Don't you EVEN," Boris said, almost snarling at her now, pointing at her, "Don't you DARE do that. That isn't fair. You and I both know she would've done it whether or not I supported it." "Oh please, she was always your little girl, she always wanted your approval," Lorraine said, "Don't pretend she wasn't. She asked you because she knew that you would go along with it, because you want to make her happy, you want her to love you. I would've fought her on it, because that's always been the dynamic, I've always been the bad guy." Boris stood there as Lorraine wiped her eyes on her sleeve, hoisted her purse back up again and buttoned her sweater. "I'm so tired of being the bad guy. I say it's time we audition for new roles," she said, before turning and leaving, letting Boris stand there and watch her walk off towards the main lobby. He turned and headed back to Ellens room, where he found Father Kricket reading his bible silently, as he sat down beside him. "Am I a villain?" Boris finally asked, taking his hat off and scratching the back of his head. "Nobody is a villain, Boris. They're just misguided heroes," Father Kricket said. And somehow, this statement made Boris feel better. They sat for a few minutes, watching Ellens machine buzz and beep, and after a moment, Boris held his hand down by his chair, and Father Kricket held his hand for a little bit. Boris rarely held the hands of other men, but this wasn't just any man, it was a man of god, and that meant, in a way, he was holding the hand of god, and that comforted him in its own small way.
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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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