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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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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