"Well let's just hope you don't have a stroke or something," Carol said, sitting in her makeshift office with Burt as he paced back and forth, groaning; Carol shifted in her seat and, flipping through some papers, added, "Look, it's not that big a deal, we'll find another provider, okay? People get dropped from their health insurance all the time. They don't want to take accidents into accounts for payouts, and I guess technically your pacemaker up and dying on you would be considered an accident. They only want to pay out for sudden unexpected deaths, or tragically unavoidable accidents like car wrecks."
"That's what they're there for though!" Burt shouted, "They're supposed to be giving me coverage in case I die, who cares how I die?!" "Well, they do because they're the ones with the money," Carol said, "Burt sit down, you're making me anxious." Burt slumped into the lucite chair across from her desk and put his heads in his hands, groaning some more as Carol continued to flip through papers. After a few moments, she tapped on the desk, getting his attention, making him glance up. "See, there's plenty of full proof providers in your price range," Carol said. "You know, shit didn't used to be this expensive," Burt said. "Tell me about it," Polly said from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and watching them as she chewed a candy bar, "I used to be able to get this candy bar for a nickel, now it's almost a dollar, and that's in a vending machine, not even an actual shop front." "Polly, do you mind?" Carol asked. "Depends, what are we actually talking about?" "I've been kicked off my health insurance because of my pacemaker malfunction," Burt muttered, just as the door opened more and Boris pushed his way in past Polly. "Hey, haven't you ever heard of personal space?" Polly asked. "Haven't you ever heard of shutting the hell up?" Boris replied. "Will everyone except Burt get out of my office, please?!" Carol shouted, now standing up and pointing at the door, "This doesn't concern any of you!" "Counter point, it concerns all of us," Polly said, biting off another hunk of her candy bar and chewing it as she continued, "because if this could happen to him, it could happen to anyone here, and that's something we all should discuss and be concerned about. I tell you, I miss two things most; my health, and the cheap cost of living." "God, I know," Boris said, breaking a piece of the candy bar off as Polly swatted at him for doing so; Boris popped it into his mouth, wiped his hands on his slacks and said, "I never thought about the fact that money might be an issue to me at this late stage in my life, you know? You just assume you'll have money by this point. You think you'll make good investments or just save up enough, but they kept raising the cost of everything and suddenly inflation eats away bit by bit at your funds. Before you know it, you're 72 and still needing to work." "It's fucked up," Polly said, "Money is simultaneously the best and the worst thing that has ever happened to humanity." "Guys, you're kind of bumming me out even more than I already was," Burt said, leaning his head on his fist, propped up by his elbow posted on Carol's desk. Carol walked around the side of the desk and ushered them both out of the office and into the hallway, shutting the door and locking it behind them. Polly took another bite of her candy bar and glanced at Boris. "Bureaucrats," she said flatly. *** Boris opened the front door to the apartment, only to find Chrissy sitting at the coffee table on the floor with Whittle nowhere in sight. After letting Polly into the apartment with him, he shut the door behind them and pulled his coat off, hanging it over the top of the couch. Chrissy looked up from her homework and waved at Boris, who smiled and waved back. "Hey kid," Polly said, leaning on the backside of the couch and looking at Chrissy, she asked, "What are you working on?" "Math homework," Chrissy said, "But it's my absolute worst subject. I'm terrible with numbers." "But I bet you're good at english, right?" Polly asked, and Chrissy nodded, making Polly chuckle, adding, "Yeah, that's how it usually goes. Great at one, terrible at the other." Polly came around the couch and sat down behind Chrissy, looking at her homework over her shoulder. "This is all about economics, money," Polly said, "I knew they took balancing a checkbook out of the curriculum, but they at least kept money management in the form of arithmetic. You know, when I was your age, things were affordable, even to kids to most extents. Now they've raised the prices of everything while simultaneously not raising the amount they pay you, meaning you can never be financially independent. The bigwigs in charge of everything really pulled a fast one on you kids." "It's okay," Chrissy said, "We're going to rise up and burn them." "Atta girl," Polly said, laughing, patting the top of Chrissy's head. Meanwhile, Boris went in search of Whittle in the apartment, only to find her in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror over the sink in her jeans and bra, applying makeup. Boris stopped in the doorway and looked at her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. After a moment she smiled at him and nodded, before returning to applying her eyeliner. "Where you been?" she asked. "Down at the home," Boris said, "Burt lost his health insurance because of his pacemaker trouble. Being a former nurse, I figured you might know something about maybe getting them to pick him back up, or perhaps finding an affordable alternative company to pick him up?" "First of all, I'm technically still kind of a nurse, just in the private sector," Whittle said, putting her eyeliner stick down on the sink and turning to Boris, putting a hand on her hip and continuing, "Secondly, I'm fairly certain they can't drop you for something related to necessary medical equipment being faulty." "Is that something we should maybe take up with someone?" Boris asked, "You think we have a case? Maybe get a senior citizens advocate or something?" "Boris, please don't take this the wrong way, but unless you know you have a guaranteed win, it isn't going to change a thing," Whittle said, "Honestly, these companies are so powerful and so rarely challenged because they're so powerful that you're simply better off accepting this as a loss." Boris hated to hear this sort of thing, but he knew Whittle was right. He sighed and scratched his forehead. "You going somewhere?" he asked. "I have a date," Whittle said, "Could you stay home and watch Chrissy?" "Yeah, of course," Boris said. Honestly, after such a letdown, maybe being home with Chrissy would be just the thing to take his mind off the fact that he, and other seniors, were so often slipping through the cracks. Maybe he'd order a pizza, and they could watch something funny, whatever it took to be able to enjoy himself. As Boris exited the hallway and found himself back in the living room, he watched Polly talk to Chrissy about her homework, and smiled to himself. She seemed to do well around children...maybe he'd ask her to stay and babysit with him. "What are you talking about?" Boris asked. "The high cost of living," Polly said, "She can't believe that things used to be so cheap. I'm trying to explain that it isn't just old people grousing about the changes society has made, and it's more about the lack of changes society has made in the best interest of its citizens, how they've screwed over the new generations while giving the previous generations everything they wanted, thusly creating the very rift we have now between said generations." "Listen to this woman, Chrissy," Boris said, "She knows what she's talking about." Boris came around to the couch and sat down beside Polly, watching as Chrissy turned around on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and looked up at them as she sat crossed legged. "So everything used to be cheaper?" Chrissy asked, "Like, even cars?" "Everything," Boris said, "Even things you wouldn't imagine, things like homes were affordable, things like cars were easily attainable, and the middle class was an actual ideal and potential possibility for anyone who was willing to put in the time and effort, because the time and effort required wasn't much and actually gave you what you needed to acquire it. Not anymore. Now, even with 3 jobs concurrently you're guaranteed to not only never pay off your car or your student loans, but rarely even pay your rent regularly." "That's ridiculous," Chrissy said, "Why doesn't someone do something?" "People have tried, and still are trying," Polly said, "But the people in charge, the corporations who own all the judges and have the government in their back pocket, aren't interested in making things easier for the people if it doesn't continue to line their pockets with cold hard cash." "You know," Chrissy said, "Whenever my parents talk about money and my generation, all they say is that we want things too easy, and that nobody's student debt should just be forgiven because theirs never was and that you just need to work harder. But here you guys are, older than my folks, talking about the same things but in the opposite manner. You think my generation should have it easier." "Nobody should have to go through the bullshit the generation before them went through, just because they went through it. That's like telling someone who's cancer went into remission while you're still in chemo that they need to tough it out," Boris said, "Times are different, things are different, it's a totally different world with totally different sets of circumstances and, yes, I think that means the generation coming up in that new world should be treated differently, and given opportunities to flourish, not pushed down until they suffocate." Chrissy smiled and looked back at her homework, as Polly looked at Boris and, surprising even herself, finding herself to be extremely impressed at his compassion, something she rarely got to see before they begun hanging out regularly. She'd always found him stand offish and somewhat cold, but now here, seeing him with this young girl and telling her how much he believed that she deserved better, she could see why Carol liked him so much. She understood it now. Polly knew Boris had a daughter in a coma, it was fairly common knowledge around the home, so perhaps his attitude towards a girl like Chrissy whom could so easily be considered a substitute for his own child wasn't all that surprising in reality, but never the less she decided to appreciate him for his warm heart. "Okay," Whittle said, coming out into the living room, sticking her earrings on and closing them before pulling her coat on over the long beautiful dress she was wearing; "I'll be back sometime around 11 or so. Make sure Chrissy finishes her homework, not that I don't trust her to, and get yourselves something to eat. Order a pizza, I don't care, but make sure you do eat." "You got it," Boris said, saluting her as she came around the couch and kissed the top of Chrissy's head before heading out the door. Polly looked at Boris and shrugged. "Pizza sound good to you?" she asked. "What, you staying?" "Well what do you want me to do, go back to the home and eat gruel?" Polly replied, making him laugh. *** Burt was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, when the door to his room opened and Carol came in. She pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat down in it, sighing as she did, and for a few moments not even speaking. Eventually he looked at her and she was rubbing her face, apparently either extremely tired, extremely irritated or both. "I think I found a replacement insurance company for you," she said, "But we need to have some meetings first. You're not wrong to be so frustrated at this, it's...bullshit, quite honestly. This country hates its citizens as soon as they become people they can't as easily exploit without being called out on it." "You know," Burt said, "I never thought I'd honestly live long enough to encounter things that would try to end my life. The sad irrefutable fact that that thing is my very own body is even more or a swift kick to the junk, if you'll excuse my language." "Heh, it's fine," Carol said. "You do right by your body, you know? You try to eat well, you try to exercise, you don't smoke, you don't drink, you live to be 65, 70 years old and how's your own body repay you? By doing everything in its power to kill you anyway, simply because it's now tired of working so damn hard to keep you alive, despite you working so hard to keep it healthy lo these many years. My body does not have my own best interests at heart, and that's the biggest betrayal I think I've ever felt." "I understand what you mean," Carol said, "And you're not wrong, sadly. But thankfully you have people who care about you who are more than willing to go to bat for you against your body's callous behavior. Friends, like me...and to a lesser extent I suppose Boris." This made them both laugh as Carol stood up and, after pulling the chair back to its original position, headed for the door. Hand on the knob, she stopped and turned back to look at Burt. "Get some rest," she said, "We have our first meeting with this new insurance company tomorrow. They're sending someone over early." "Alright. Goodnight Carol, and thank you." "No problem," she said, exiting the room, letting Burt relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. *** After Chrissy had fallen asleep on the body pillow on the floor, leaving Boris and Polly alone to clean up before Whittle got home, things felt a little bit more normal. As Boris washed and dried the dishes they'd eaten off of while Polly broke down the pizza box and crushed their soda cans and tossed them into the recycling can Whittle kept in the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel like an actual part of a household...of someones life again, and it was nice. "You know," Polly said, turning a crushed can over in her hand, "You can get money for these. Teach Chrissy more about economics and environmentalism all in one fell swoop." "I think today was a good starting point. Perhaps in a while I'll advance to that course," Boris said, drying his hands on his pants as he turned to see Polly drop the crushed can into the receptacle. She put her hands on her hips and admired their cleaning efforts in the kitchen, as Boris walked past her and watched Chrissy shift on the floor, snoring a little as she pulled her stuff tiger closer to her chest. Polly walked to his side and stopped, watching with him, and occasionally watching him as well. "You really care about her," Polly said quietly. "Someone has to give a shit about the kids," Boris said, "Guess that someone will be me. Gives me a purpose to stay alive I guess." "Oh please, if you were to die, who would I rib good naturedly?" she asked, nudging him in the side with her elbow and winking. He chuckled, but he didn't let his line of sight break of Chrissy. "I'm thinking I'll leave everything to her," Boris said, "You know, when I go." "Everything which is what exactly? You're not really made of money," Polly said. Boris went quiet, which got Polly's attention. "Boris? You're not made of money...are you?" "I have quite a bit stocked away in an account my wife doesn't know about, nor does my daughter, all from the insurance company from the car accident and my short time spent writing poetry for a living," Boris said, "I never told this to Carol or Burt or anyone else. In fact, you're the only one who knows about it now, which obviously means I have to kill you now." Polly laughed heartily and patted his back as she went and pulled her coat on but struggled. Boris helped her finish and watched as she buttoned it up. "Guess I'll go down and wait for my cab," she said, "...thanks for including me today. And for telling me about your secret stash of cash. Now I have all the more reason to somehow find a way to con you out of it and make it look like an accident." They stood there for a moment, and just as she was about to leave, Boris walked forward and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry I was so rude to you all these years," he said softly, surprising her. "Uh...it...it's okay, Boris, really it's fine. We both know it was all in good fun," Polly said, patting his back, but eventually shutting her eyes and hugging him back, "...after all, who needs enemies when you've got money in the bank and a like me?" "I'd rather have the friendship than the money." "And that's why you're a goddamned fool," she replied, making them laugh.
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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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