Nobody had seen Burt all morning.
Sitting in the cafeteria eating breakfast, Boris and Carol couldn't help but wonder what had happened to their friend. Neither one spoke as they ate, instead choosing to sit in silence and ponder the whereabouts of their buddy as they silently chewed their omlettes and drank their coffee. After a while, Boris exhaled and, sitting back in his chair and sipping from his mug, shook his head and finally spoke. "What if he's...you know?" Boris asked. "Don't say things like that," Carol snapped. Technically I didn't say it," Boris replied. "Well then don't insinuate things like that," Carol said, setting her fork down, "Burt is our friend, I don't want to imagine the possibility of him being gone. He's probably got a checkup he didn't tell us about or an early visitor or something." They heard a chair squeak beside them and glanced over to see Polly seating herself, setting her tray on the table and scooting herself inwards to the table. She picked up her fork and started cutting up her waffles as she looked at them. "What're we talking about?" she asked. "Burt," Carol and Boris said in unison. "Oh, you didn't hear?" Polly asked, setting her fork down, dabbing her face with a napkin and sipping her coffee, "His pacemaker acted up early this morning, he was rushed into emergency care." Carol and Boris exchanged a somehow simultaneously nervous and confused look before directing their attention back to Polly. "How...how did you know that?" Carol asked. "Burt has a pacemaker?" Boris asked. "Yeah," Polly said, blowing on her coffee a little, "And I know because he came to me for help with it because I used to know someone who had one, so I was familiar with the situation. He should be fine though, it's rarely something serious. Unless his heart literally exploded, but that doesn't happen...often." "Who did you know that used to have a pacemaker?" Boris asked, and Polly smirked, but in the saddest way someone could smirk. *** "Where do you want me to put this?" Jean asked, "And didn't we just buy a box of frosted flakes?" "I'm a grown woman, I can buy as many boxes as I want," Polly said as Jean shook the box at her and finally put it in the upper cabinet in the kitchen. As she shut the door, she turned and leaned against the counter, watching Polly calculate things at the old dark oak table they had. Jean smiled and walked up to her, rubbing her shoulder with a hand. "How's it going?" she asked. "Exhausting," Polly said, removing her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes, "Absolutely exhausting. Numbers are a curse from the devil, I swear." Jean laughed and walked into the living room as Polly pulled her glasses back down and continued doing their taxes. Polly had rarely been trustworthy of anyone else handling her finances, ever since the lawyer she'd hired to settle her parents affairs when she was a young woman had stolen almost everything and gotten away with it. Now she refused to let anyone else touch her money again, even if doing it herself was a pain in the neck. "You know, I think, if you get to a certain age, you shouldn't have to do taxes anymore," Polly said, "Like, they've taken enough money from you your whole life, and now you're 60 or so, they should let you keep what you have left to survive on. Have to give my own government, which theoretically is there to protect and care for me, money because it can't handle its own bullshit finances. We're constantly bailing out our own country." She heard something fall in the living room and waited a moment, setting her pen down and looking towards the doorway as Jean came back in, rubbing her chest. "What happened?" Polly asked. "I just...I had a sharp pain in my chest, I'm out of breath, I feel like...like I just touched a live wire," Jean said, as Polly stood up, walked to her and helped her sit down at the table. She stroked Jean's hair and kissed the top of her head. "You'll be fine," Polly said, "I'm right here." *** Walking down the hall with Carol and Polly, Boris couldn't help but feel bad for not knowing more about Burt. They were his friends, after all, and yet Polly was the only one who apparently knew of his pacemaker. Didn't seem right. Could they really be just that bad of friends? Polly pulled out a pack of gum from her dress pocket and popped a piece in her mouth, offering some to the others, but only Carol accepted. "Minty," Carol said as she chewed. "Yeah, it helps cleanse the breakfast taste," Polly remarked. "So how long's Burt gonna be out of commission?" Boris asked, and Polly shrugged. "Beats me. I just knew someone with one, I didn't work on them myself personally," Polly said, "But he's in good hands, so I'm sure he'll be back in action any time now." "Well," Carol said, "I guess I should get to work, I'll see you guys later." Carol turned and headed to the small office she'd assigned herself for the renovation work, leaving Boris and Polly alone. They continued walking down the hall and stopping at the recreational room, where people played card games and other type activities. Boris walked to the pool table and looked down at the felt, while Polly picked up a cue and started setting up the balls. "You know," Polly said, "I used to be a pretty good pool player." "Really now?" "Yep," Polly said, "Thought about going professional, but never really went for it. Still, for a good while it was the hobby I did more than anything else." And with that, she hit the ball and sent the rest flying across the table, smiling. "So why'd you stop?" Boris asked, picking up the other cue, taking her on. "Because sometimes other things take the place of your vices," Polly said, "More important things." *** The crack of the balls echoing in the bar, the balls rolling across the table as she headed around for a better, cleaner shot, was like music to Polly's ears. She looked across to the end of the table at a large man in leather with greasy hair and a beard, holding his own cue, clutching it so tightly his knuckles were white, and she smirked. "What do you say we up it?" she asked, putting her hand on her hip and looking at him, "How about we make it worth just a little bit more?" "You ain't got nothin' else I'm interested in," the man said, "Aside from that gold watch and the earrings, which are only worth shit cause I could easily hawk 'em, you don't have anything else I want." "You don't want a Gremlin?" "You drive a Gremlin?" "I drive a Gremlin," Polly said, running a hand through her bouncy dirty blonde hair, "I miss this, you get the title to the car and everything." "You're a loon," the man said as Polly set up for her shot again; she slowly licked her lips, shut one eye and took the shot, sinking the ball in the pocket and standing back up as the man took his pool cue and snapped it over his leg, approaching her. "You're a loon and a goddamned cheater!" he shouted, as Polly backed up, but before she could even attempt to defend herself, a woman in a bomber jacket and jeans pushed her way in front of her and placed herself in between Polly and the enraged man. "Hey pal, you wanna fuck right off?" she shouted loudly, "Get the fuck out of her face! I watched the whole goddamned thing, and she kicked your ass, so how about you go find a woman who won't emasculate you since you can't fuckin' handle it!?" The man gritted his teeth, turned and stormed off as the woman turned around and looked at Polly, who - in a mixture of shock and awe - was leaning against the bar, her hand clutching to her chest as if she were about to drop dead right there on the spot. The woman had short black hair and big hoop earrings. "You okay?" she asked, and Polly nodded. "Y-yeah, thanks," Polly said, brushing herself off, setting the pool cue against the bar stool beside her and holding her hand out, "I didn't think he'd react like that, but I guess I should've expected it. I'm Polly Hawkins." "Jean," the woman said, shaking her hand, her bright teeth gleaming at her as she smiled, "Jean Thurgood. It's nice to meet you Polly." Things were different back then. Polly was younger, capable of handling herself more than most women it seemed to her, but even so she rarely expected anyone to stand up for it, especially another woman. Meeting other women, especially other women like her, who wanted the same things she did, was even more rare, but somehow she managed to. So Polly and Jean spent the next 25 years together, and it was only on that rainy autumn day, when they were going to go and walk to the bakery downtown and buy some pastries, that Polly truly realized how lucky she'd been to have Jean by her side all this time. Because when it gave out, when her pacemaker suddenly stopped working - something Jean had had for most of the last decade because of a lifelong heart defect - and she tried to grab the dresser on the way to the floor to steady herself, Polly saw for the first time this strong capable woman who have given her life meaning finally need help herself, and she was there to do it. She called 911, she rode with her in the ambulance, and she almost had to be restrained when they wouldn't let her go in with her to emergency surgery. Sitting on the bench of the hospital hallway, staring at the candy bar machine across from her as she chewed a Snickers, Polly couldn't imagine what life would be like now. Would this thing make Jean even more careful than she'd already been? Would it push her to instead try and be more vital and active? She didn't know, all she did know was that when they were home, she'd do her best to take care of Jean the way Jean had always taken care of her. But when the doctor told her Jean wasn't coming home, and in fact wasn't even there anymore, Polly's entire world shattered. She gave up on everything, she stopped going out and, eventually, once she tired of taking care of the home, she sold it and put herself in the home, much like Boris had. And it was only when she met Boris that she felt the same sort of affinity that she had with Jean, just not on a romantic level obviously. Boris's attitude, his witticisms and genuine heartfelt personality all reminded Polly of Jean, and Polly was grateful to have that back in her life, even if in a non romantic manner. *** Opening the door to her room, she found Megan hard at work making the space for her tub; Megan looked behind her and smiled, wiping her forehead off with her sleeve before nodding at Polly as she entered and nodded back at her before heading to the closet. Megan exhaled and sat on her knees, putting her drill down. "This is coming along nicely," Megan said, "I think I should be totally done in a few weeks at most, and then it's soak city, baby." "I'm excited," Polly said, "Never had a really nice tub I could lay down in like this. It's gonna be like having a spa in my bedroom." "You're gonna be the life of the home, trust me," Megan said, "I'll put in some mega speakers, maybe a minibar, some trippy neon lighting, it's gonna be like a drug den in here." Polly cracked up as she dug in her closet for something. Megan stood up and wiped her pants off, took the bit from her drill and put the whole thing back in its case before picking it up and looking towards the door. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" "Wait, before you go," Polly said, pulling out a large flat box and sitting on the bed, setting it on her knees, "This is for you. It belonged to someone I really loved, and I just want to give it to you because I really appreciate the work you're doing here, and the company you've brought me." "That's so nice," Megan said, seating herself on the bed beside Polly, "What is it?" "It's a bomber jacket," Polly said, "Vintage, belonged to their brother when he served in the army. After he died in combat, they sent the jacket back home, and eventually, when they died, I kept it as something to remember them by." "It's beautifully preserved, the leather is still so supple," Megan said, running her perfectly french tipped pink nails over the jacket, making Polly blush. "Stand up," Polly said, and Megan did as she was told. Megan put her cases down, put her arms out and let Polly pull the jacket on over her. It fit like a glove, and after she turned around to show it off, Polly had to sit back down and put her hand to her mouth, trying not to openly cry. She looked so much like Jean. Megan ran her hands down the jacket and beamed at her, before reaching back and letting her hair down. "Thank you so much, this is so kind of you," Megan said, "People I do work for never do this sort of thing for me." "You're welcome," Polly said, "Someone deserves to enjoy it now." With that, Megan hugged Polly, said goodbye, and left the room. Polly laid down on the bed and sighed, thinking about how nice it felt to once again have the company of a woman she was attracted to, regardless of whether or not they were decades younger than her. Just proved that, even as old as you get, love is something you never lose the capacity for if you choose not to, and she was thankful for that. *** "So you can't go near microwaves, right?" Boris asked, as Burt tried to eat his breakfast the following morning. "Jesus, you know, I really actually liked it better when you weren't here," Burt said, making Boris and Carol laugh. The chair beside Boris squeaked as Polly seated herself, just with a mug of coffee and a poppyseed muffin. Boris smiled at this simplistic breakfast, turning his attention to her now instead. "Just a muffin?" he asked, "Not very filling." "Poppyseed muffin," Polly said, "Someone I loved, this was their favorite muffin. Just been in a real nostalgic mood lately I guess. So Burt, hey-" "Yeah?" Burt asked, leaning forward to see her on the other side of Boris. "-so you're like fully a robot now, right? I mean I knew you were a robot already, you have no feelings, but now you're fully cybernetic, right?" Polly asked, making them all laugh again. "I hate all of you," Burt said, chuckling to himself.
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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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