Leanne Goldstein hadn't been living in the complex for quite some time now.
She'd been moved to a healthcare facility a handful of months ago, and Boris had been so busy he hadn't even noticed. Truth be told, after being told she no longer remembered him, Boris had not really thought about Leanne, instead writing her off as a failed aspect of his later in life efforts to get closer to people. Now, standing in the elevator with Father Krickett as it ascended up towards the floor Leanne was supposedly placed on, Boris couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. He suddenly lurched forward and hit the "emergency stop" button on the elevator, causing Father Krickett to look at him. "What're you doing?" he asked. "I don't know that I can do this," Boris said quietly, "I...I'm not sure I'm strong enough." "Sometimes we need to put aside our shortcomings and instead accept that there are things we need to do, not because we want to do them, but because others need us to," Father Krickett said, "Trust me, she wants to see you. You don't wanna let her leave this world without getting that chance of closure." Boris waited, then sullenly nodded and let the elevator resume its mission. Once at the floor, the two men stepped out of it, and headed down the hallway. The sounds of breathing apparatuses and heart monitors and all other sorts of life extension devices flooded Boris's ears, yet somehow he managed to block it all out, instead only focusing on what in the world he would have to say to Leanne Goldstein. They'd only talked a handful of times, and despite her making a big impression on him, it wasn't like they had much history. Why in the world would she want to see him, of all people? He didn't know her. He wished he could've, but the fact remains that he didn't. Who was Leanne Goldstein? Boris and Father Krickett walked to the door and stopped. Boris turned and looked at Father Krickett, who simply smiled and patted the old man on the back before pointing at a nearby bench in the hall. "I'll be over there if you need me," he whispered, and Boris nodded before turning to the door and opening it, heading inside. Leanne was lying in a bed, and she didn't even seem to notice Boris when he entered. He walked quietly up to the bed, seated himself in a nearby chair and carefully cleared his throat. She finally rolled her head towards him and smiled. Boris smiled back. He had forgotten about the warmth her smile had in it, and he had forgotten how much he liked it. "Hi," he said, as she reached out and took his hand. "Hello," she said, her voice sounding strained, tired. "How are you feeling?" Boris asked. "How do you think?" she asked, looking around, half chuckling as she added, "I'm better now that I'm not alone though." "I'm glad," Boris said, "...are you scared?" "I'm not scared, no," Leanne said, "What purpose is there in being scared? It's not like I can change anything, so why worry anymore? The time for worrying is over. It's just nice to not be alone at a time like this. I'm glad you're here. You said we would be together again." Boris raised an eyebrow. "I...I did?" he asked. "Before you died," Leanne said, "don't you remember, Curtis? You were where I am and I was where you are, and now the roles are reversed, but you said we'd see one another again, and here you are. I knew you wouldn't forget about me...I've missed you so much, Curt." Boris looked down at her hand, which was now squeezing his firmly. He smiled back at her, then nodded before standing up an excusing himself for a moment. As he exited the room and leaned against the door, trying not to cry, he glanced towards the bench where Father Krickett was seated, reading a magazine, eating a candy bar. Boris walked briskly over to the bench and grabbed the magazine from his hands, causing him to look up at him in surprise. "What are you doin' to me, man!?" Boris asked loudly. "When I was called in to give last rights, I realized it was the same woman you'd told me about before. I figured the best thing to give her before she left this earth was a chance at not feeling alone," Father Krickett said, "Nobody deserves to die alone, Boris." "John, this is...this is so fucked, man," Boris said, sounding exasperated, throwing his arms in the air, continuing, "I can't...I can't possibly go back in there! She doesn't even know who I am!" "And isn't that good?" Father Krickett asked, "I mean, let's face it, Boris...you two never had a history. You met a few times, and the last time she didn't even remember you. Isn't the fact that you don't share any kind of history a good thing? It makes it easier. If you knew one another, boy, this would hurt so much more, wouldn't it? But this way, you're doing a good thing...you're giving her safety in the face of mortality. That's not something a lot of people get. That comfort in the face of fear. She's lucky." Boris stopped pacing and looked at Father Krickett, then pulled his cap off and ran his hands through his remaining hair. He sighed and looked at his shoes. "I'm...scared," Boris whispered, "she's the one who's dying and I'M scared." "Natural." "Having those around you die...it slowly pushes you to the top of the list," Boris said, "sooner or later, it's going to be me in her position, and I...I don't wanna go out like that. I don't wanna go out losing my memory, unsure of what's real or if I'm even still here. I don't..." Boris looked up at Father Krickett, then seated himself on the bench beside him. "I don't wanna die, John," Boris whispered. "Nobody does," Father Krickett said, "Except perhaps the terminally ill, in severe pain, or truly suicidal people, but even then I think there's an argument to be made for the opposite." "I'm going to die, and I don't want to," Boris said, "...there's nothing I can do about that. My problems with my wife, with my daughter? Those I ran from. All the problems in my life I could run from, but you can't run from the inevitability of mortality. It finds you eventually, one way or another. You can't outrun death. That's terrifying. The concept of nonexistence. How can she be so brave while facing down the reality of no longer existing?" "Because she's lost in her memories, Boris, and she probably doesn't know that's what's happening," Father Krickett said, "think about it, if she thinks you're her dead husband, how with it can she really be? Coherency isn't even a word to her anymore. I'm not trying to be rude, but...let's face facts here. She can't really comprehend what's happening to her, and that's probably for the best. Did you know dogs don't know they're going to die? That one day they just...go to sleep, and that's that? They face every day with the uncertainty of their future, but they never realize it. Dogs are lucky, and right now, Leanne is lucky." Boris nodded and pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped at his eyes. "Alright..." he said, "I'll go back in. I'll do the right thing." "I'm proud of you," Father Krickett said. Boris stood back up and headed back to the room. He opened the door and entered, finding Leanne still in the bed. She smiled at him as he approached the bed and seated himself once more. She reached out, and he graciously took her hand and held it, only now realizing how cold she felt. Boris felt a lump grow in his throat, and he tried not to cry. "You're back," she said. "Yes," he said. "...it's weird," she said, "I can't imagine being here without you. Our house feels so empty, my life feels so empty." "Yeah, that tends to happen when you lose the people you loved," Boris said, "but it's alright, you're not alone now, and this room isn't empty, so it's all okay." Leanne looked around the room again, then let her eyesight settle on Boris once more, and she smiled. She squeezed his hand even tighter and her breathing became shallow. "Is it nice...up there?" she asked. "It's beautiful up here," Boris said quietly, "You're going to love it. We'll be together, and it's so pretty, and everyone you've ever lost and missed will be with you again. I'll be with you. There's nothing to be afraid of." "Who said I was afraid?" Leanne asked, "...I'm not afraid. I'm excited." Boris was caught by surprise, but he couldn't help but smile. This was the kind of attitude he wanted to have when it came to be his time to leave this life behind. Leanne leaned her head back on the pillow, her eyes gazing upwards at the ceiling, and she smiled as wide as she could. "I can't wait to see," she whispered, and then she died. Boris sat there, holding her cold hand for a good fifteen minutes before he finally stood up, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and leaned over the bed. He kissed her cheek and then turned and exited the room. Father Krickett was standing outside, eating yet another candy bar, when Boris arrived in the hall. Boris walked to him and the two men looked at one another, and then Boris fell against the priest and he sobbed. Father Krickett shoved the unfinished candy in his pocket and hugged the old man back. "I'm sorry," Father Krickett whispered, "I know I deceived you, but...you didn't get to say goodbye to Polly. Not with her able to respond. You didn't get to say goodbye to Ellen before her coma, and now she doesn't remember you well. I just wanted you, at least once, to have the chance to say goodbye, and she didn't deserve to go alone." "thank you, John," Boris said in a hushed crying voice, "thank you, thank you, thank you." "You're welcome, Boris," Father Krickett said, patting him on the back, "come on, let's go get some breakfast." *** Seated in their favorite nearby diner, Boris and Father Krickett were eating breakfast. As Father Krickett scooped scrambled eggs onto his fork, Boris was eating his second hashbrown. A waitress walked by and refilled their coffee cups, then politely excused herself, leaving them alone once again. "I'm sorry for bringing you there under false pretenses, but you deserved some closure. I watched my brother die, and I nearly died, and my family has never gotten much closure. Certainly it's a manmade concept created to ease our guilt over things left unfinished, whether by choice or not, but I still think it's worth the effort sometimes to try and attain it," Father Krickett said, picking up his mug and sipping his coffee. "...she was excited," Boris said flatly, "she was excited to see what was coming." "If only we could all face the end of our lives with that kind of eagerness," Father Krickett said. "How do you do it, John?" Boris asked, looking up, wiping the grease from his mouth on his napkin and picking up his own coffee mug, "jesus, how do you do it? Every single day you're called in to give people their last rights, to tell them the end is coming, to let them know it's okay to die...how does that not effect you?" "Who said it doesn't effect me?" Father Krickett asked, "I mean, sure, perhaps I'm a bit more capable of grappling with such concepts than most people considering my line of work, but it doesn't mean I'm not scared of the same things. I think about these things too. Just because I have faith doesn't mean I don't get frightened. Faith only gets you so far, after all." Boris nodded and sipped his coffee. He waited a moment, then spoke again. "I want you to take care of my arrangements," he finally said, making Father Krickett nearly choke on his eggs. "Excuse me?" he asked, mouth half full. "You heard me." "I did, that's the problem, yes," Father Krickett responded, asking, "run that by me again, would you?" "I want you to take care of my arrangements," Boris said, "I've never...I've never had a friend like you before. Sure my wife and I were friends, and okay Carol and I are pretty close, and alright Polly and I got particularly buddy buddy, but...I've never had a friend like you, especially not a male friend. I want you to take care of my end of life arrangements, whenever that happens." "...I...I don't...I don't know what to say, that's...that's a huge honor and responsibility," Father Krickett said, "but are you sure that I'm the right one for the this job? Don't you think there'd be someone better? Someone more capable? Like Whittle?" "Whittle is a great person, and a wonderful friend, but..." Boris hesitated as he rubbed his hands together, sighing, "...I don't trust anyone as much as I trust you, John. Please do this for me." Father Krickett smiled warmly, and nodded. "If that's what you want, Boris, then that's what I'll do," he replied. A moment of quiet passed, as they continued to eat in silence. Boris drank from his coffee, and then finally he set the cup back down and looked out the window at the rainclouds in the sky, the drizzle lightly pelting the glass. "What do you think she was excited for?" Boris asked, "the idea of not being in pain?" Father Krickett finished chewing, set his fork down, cupped his hands on the table and looked out the window with him. "Not our place to say, but...if I had to guess," Father Krickett said, "...I'd say she was excited for anything that wasn't where she was right then." Boris grunted in acknowledgement, and the men ate the remainder of the breakfast in silence. *** Carol was sitting in her office, reading through a series of files with Burt sitting in the seat across from her. She sighed, set the files down and rubbed her forehead. Burt looked up from his own folder. "Need something?" he asked. "Yeah, an assistant," Carol replied. "I thought I was your assistant," Burt said, sounding hurt, which made Carol chuckle. "You do a good job, Burt, but you know what I mean. Someone young and vibrant and full of life," Carol said. "Jeez Carol, I'm not dead yet," Burt replied under his breath. The door to the office opened, and Boris stepped inside. Burt smiled at his friend, and then noticed his face. Burt quickly excused himself from the room, leaving Boris alone with Carol. Boris sat down in the chair Burt had previously occupied and looked across the desk at Carol, who rested her arms on the desk, folded. "What's going on? You don't normally come around lately," she said. "...are you afraid of dying, Carol?" Boris asked. "I mean, isn't everyone?" Carol asked, shrugging, "and those who say they aren't are just liars, if you ask me. What brought this on?" "Someone I knew died today, and I was the last person to talk to her. I've been the last person to talk to a few people lately before they die. I guess it's making me think about the idea of the end of my own life. What comes after, if anything, and the fear that'll likely course through my brain beforehand." "Perfectly understandable thing to think about," Carol said. "The woman who died today, she said she was excited. She was excited for the afterlife, and I can't remember the last time I was excited for my actual life. I want to have that level of dedication to any aspect of life, after or otherwise. If I'm going to get clean for Polly, I'm going to try harder to enjoy life for this woman. The people around me are the ones making me a better person." "Gee, what are you gonna do when I die?" Carol asked, smirking. "Doesn't matter, cause it ain't ever gonna happen," Boris said, smiling back at her. "You wanna help me with some paperwork?" Carol asked. "Yeah, that's what I wanna do with my remaining time on earth," Boris said sarcastically, making them both 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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