The home was beautifully decorated.
Carol and company had really gone all out, it seemed. The place felt more cheerful and full of life than it had in recent memory, and standing in the bingo hall - which had been all but cleared out for snack tables, decorations and whatnot - Boris couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for his friend as he watched her still trying to put some last minute touches together before the Senior Prom that night. After finishing talking to someone, Carol walked back over to Boris and she leaned against the wall, exhaling deeply. Boris crossed his arms and chuckled at her. "I never knew you could be such a take charge leader," he said. "Neither did I," Carol replied, "I mean, I always suspected as much, but I did question if, when the chips were down, I could actually carry through with my duties, but here we are. You're going to come tonight, right?" "Yep," Boris said, "in fact, uh, I have a date." "Really?" Carol asked, surprised. "Yeah," Boris said, almost blushing, "should I bring anything, or-" "Naw, everything is already supplied, nobody needs to bring anything except themselves," Carol said, "and your date, I guess." Boris hadn't told anyone that for a few weeks, he had been seeing someone, and if he had alluded to it, he was very vague, only saying 'I've been having dates'. The feeling had been nice, going out again and doing things socially, romantically. He'd missed that. Boris sighed and checked his watch, then sucked on his teeth. "Welp," he said, "I guess I better get home, get my suit ready and whatnot. I'm proud of you, you know that right?" "Really? You're proud of me? Gee, thanks dad," Carol said, making him laugh. "I mean it!" he said, "You set yourself a goal, and you achieved it. You bought the home and remodeled it, you realized the death pool was cold and you put an end to it, and now you've put on a big party for everyone to be able to enjoy their old age and celebrate their lives. That's something worth respecting, Carol. You've done more good for this home than anyone else ever did." Carol smiled and looked at her shoes, annoyed at how giddy she felt at being complimented. "Well, thanks," she finally said, "...it just seemed like we were being swept under the rug, and I really wanted to do something for everyone, you know? The people who were running this place were running it as a business, not a selfless notion, and I think we deserve better than being treated like a commodity for some wealthy stock broker. At some point, we seem to forget that human beings - young or old - are not a product to use for your ledgers." Boris nodded. "That's why it's good we have old people like you," he said, "Because the best people to have helping old people are other old people. We best understand our needs and requirements, and we're the ones who will go to the ends of the earths to make sure they're met. Doctors, more often than not, see old people as expendable, and I think you alone have proved we're anything but." With that, Boris stood up, adjusted his jacket and hugged Carol, saying he'd be back that evening. He left the home, got to the parking lot and got into Polly's Gremlin. Boris started up the car and pulled out, heading towards the apartment. *** John Krickett wasn't having the best day. First he'd burnt his breakfast, then he'd shrunk a favorite t-shirt of his, and finally, on the way over to the church, he'd hopped up onto the curb while parking. As he walked inside the church, passing by the pews, he heard someone rushing after him, catching up and walking alongside him. It was one of the youngest nuns they had on staff there. "Good morning father," she said happily, almost chipper. "Good morning Sister," he replied. "What are you doing in here today?" "I came by to pick up something in my office," he replied, "why?" "Well, I was...I was curious...um...a lot of the other nuns have talked about you and they say that you're..." Father Krickett stopped and looked at her, waiting for the shoe to drop. "Queer?" he asked. "In not so polite terms, sure," she replied, "but I was curious if you feel like you've made the right decision to dedicate your life to an institution that doesn't respect or accept you. I myself am queer, though nobody knows, and lately I've been having doubts and-" "Let me save you a lot of trouble for the future, sister," Father Krickett said, putting his hands on her shoulders, "leave. If you're even having the smallest doubt, then leave. My situation was unique, but you don't have to follow in my footsteps. Go be yourself. Be happy. Be with someone you love. Don't marry God. Sure he's home every night, but he's kind of abusive." Sister Jenn smirked at this and nodded, understanding. "What if we left together? What if we made our own place of worship, where we didn't play the rules of the church, where you were free to be with whoever you wanted, as was I, without also losing our field of profession?" Sister Jenn asked. "...I'm interested," he said, continuing to walk towards his office with Sister Jenn in tow. "Well," she continued, "I was looking at space downtown and I noticed we could easily rent a building if we pooled our money and took donations, and we could get tax exempt status because we'd be a religious affiliation. But think about how many queer people there are that want to be religious but are fearful of the church, for good reason. We could be the saving grace to those people." Father Krickett tugged his office door open and started searching through his desk for what he'd forgotten as Sister Jenn kept talking. "Because, I can't speak for you personally, but I've definitely felt uncomfortable here, and I think a lot more people like us would be willing to participate in a church that saw their personhood as personhood instead of something to combat," Sister Jenn said, "...uh, Father, what are you looking for?" Father Krickett stopped, shutting the drawers on his desk and scratching his head. "...Uh...it doesn't matter," he said, "Anyway, I think it's a wonderful idea. We should talk about it more, maybe take some meetings with banks and the property owner and whatnot." Sister Jenn was glad to hear he was interested, but he also seemed distracted. He didn't even finish the conversation, and instead he left the room, and the church, getting back into his car and speeding away. Sister Jenn stood there in front of the church, watching him drive off, and felt all the more confused than she had before he'd shown up. *** "You look so handsome," Whittle said, adjusting Boris's tie and smiling at him while Chrissy ran a lint roller down his suit. "Well thank you," Boris said, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, "I do what I can with what I have." "It's a shame you don't have more," Chrissy said, making him and Whittle laugh as he reached down and ruffled her hair. "So what time do you think you'll be back tonight?" Whittle asked, finishing the tie and stepping away, hands on her hips as she watched Chrissy continue to run the lint roller down his pants legs. "No clue," Boris said, "Probably late. Carol likes to keep things going far past the point that anyone's interested, so. I'll try and be quiet when I get in." "Did you go to your actual senior prom?" Chrissy asked. "Yeah, of course," Boris said, "Went to all my high school events. Didn't enjoy 'em much, but I went. You were kind of required to and kind of ostracized if you didn't." "It's good to know things don't change," Chrissy muttered, making them laugh again. There was the sound of the front door opening, and Whittle swiftly exited the bathroom, heading out to greet whomever had entered the apartment. While she was gone, and as Chrissy finished delinting him, Boris sat himself on the side of the tub with her and looked at his watch. "You know," Boris said, "It seems like adolescence is the most important time in your life, but honestly...it's over so fast. You're older for far longer than you're young, it just doesn't feel like it because time speeds up and the way we perceive time changes so drastically as we age. This watch was given to me by my father. One of the few things he gave to me, besides lifelong trust problems, and it still feels like I just got it yesterday, even though it's been like 60 years now." "...I'm scared to mature, honestly," Chrissy said. "Well, the great thing is that your generation doesn't really have to, you guys have all but broken down all those barriers," Boris said, "Stick with the arrested development, it suits you well. Stay a kid as long as you can or want to. Being an adult is overrated." They looked up as Father Krickett and Whittle entered the bathroom. "Your ride's here," Whittle said. "You look dapper," Father Krickett said. "First time for everything I suppose," Boris remarked, as the two men sauntered out of the bathroom and headed toward the front door. They said goodbye to the girls, then exited the apartment. Whittle looked at Chrissy and smiled. "You wanna watch a movie and braid eachothers hair while eating nothing but peanut M&M's for dinner?" Whittle asked. "You read my mind!" Chrissy stated eagerly. *** Father Krickett was driving Boris to the home for the Senior Prom, but neither were speaking once they were in the car. Boris was concerned that perhaps he'd done something to upset the priest, but he couldn't exactly place what that could've been. Boris leaned forward and adjusted the air conditioner, feeling it blow on his face as he shut his eyes and enjoyed the breeze. "I can't find my rosary," Father Krickett finally said. "Eh?" "I can't find my rosary. They were a gift from Steven, my ex. I thought I'd left them at the church, but they weren't there when I went to look today, and I'm really worried," Father Krickett said, "they're very important to me." "I'm sorry John, I'll keep my eyes open for 'em," Boris said. "You excited?" Father Krickett asked. "Yeah, ya know what, I actually am. It's weird, too. It's an odd feeling, looking forward to something. I haven't been excited for anything in so many years that it feels like an almost foreign concept to me now," Boris said. "Well I'm glad, and I'm sure you'll have a great time," Father Krickett said, smiling, "...I'm leaving the church. I mean, not for good, but the church I'm with anyway. A nun and I are going to look into starting our own little branch downtown for queer people or anyone else who feels unrepresented by the major religious groups." "Well that sounds fantastic," Boris said, "Good luck to you guys." "But I need to find my rosary," Father Krickett said, "I wanna make Steven a little shrine there." Boris smiled. He admired how much love Father Krickett still had for a man who'd been gone for so long, and he only wish he himself had realized sooner that love wasn't something to run from, but instead to embrace. Father Krickett dropped him off, told him he'd be back to pick him up later, and then went along his duties. Boris strolled to the front of the nursing home, then instead went around the back, and headed towards the gazebo. He climbed up the steps and seated himself on one of the benches inside, watching the party from afar. He wanted to go in, he really did, but he felt nervous. He'd never really done well in giant social situations such as these, and he certainly didn't want to go in without his date. Boris sat there and listened to the records from that large vinyl collection they'd sifted through be played over a stereo, while everyone laughed and ate and danced. He could see Carol through a nearby window, and he was thrilled to see how happy she appeared to be. Suddenly he heard the sound of heels heading slowly up the gazebo steps, and he looked up to see Lorraine. "Hey," he said. "Hey yourself," she said, following his gaze to the building, "...you people watching?" "Far more preferable to interacting," Boris said. "Yeah, you never were one for socialization," Lorraine said, seating herself on the bench beside him, "Still, I'd like to dance at some point. I'm, admittedly, a bit shocked you asked me to come with you, seeing as we haven't done anything together in years and haven't really been good friends lately but-" "I owe you an apology," Boris said, "I was...I was not the easiest man in the world to be married to, but that doesn't mean I never loved you. I've never loved anyone like I love you. I didn't wanna leave. I had to, I hope you understand that, but I didn't want to." "I do," Lorraine said. "but it always killed me because in the back of my mind I thought 'here's a woman who, even after being abandoned, still hasn't divorced you' and perhaps it's just the generation we are that we don't believe in divorce, I don't know, but...god I missed you. I tried to make the same connection we had with other people; Burt has been a good friend, Carol's been an excellent companion, and Polly...but nobody-" "What about the priest?" Lorraine asked, surprising him, catching him off guard. "Wh...what?" "What about the priest?" she repeated, "I mean, you guys have...some sort of thing going." "...John's taught me a lot about myself, most importantly that, uh, if I was younger or he were older, if it were a different time or anything about anything was different, then we'd probably be together, and that's been nice, to stop running from that part of myself, but we're just friends ultimately. He's my best friend, but that's all he is. Well, and my priest, obviously." Lorraine smirked. "I know it's been too long and that a lot has changed and that we may not have a whole lot of time left but I'd like to try again," Boris said, "I'd like to, at least, salvage whatever it was we had." "I'd like that too," Lorraine said, "You've really grown, I can see it. You're the best version of the man I always knew you could be. I never stopped loving you either. I was mad, absolutely, but...I never stopped wanting you to come home." "I got you a flower," Boris said, pulling a blue orchid from his pocket and handing it to her, "it's the same color as your eyes. I know you liked these." Lorraine wanted to cry. For so long she'd wanted this sort of thing to happen, and now it was, and she was so happy. She touched the petals gently with her fingertips and smiled. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "You're beautiful," Boris replied, "do you wanna go inside and dance?" "I'd love to," she said. As they stood up and began to head inside the home, Boris's cell phone he'd borrowed from Whittle rang in his coat pocket, and he excused himself momentarily to fish it out and answer it. "Hello?" he asked. "Boris, this is Elise Bentley with the publishing house," the woman on the phone said, "How are you doing?" "I'm actually in the middle of something, can I call you back tomorrow or-" "Well definitely, in fact that's preferable because we have a lot to talk about," Elise said, "But I wanted to call ahead and give you the news now. Not only are we going to give you a regular poetry corner in the magazine, monthly, but I've talked it over with my partner and we're interested in giving you a book deal." Boris couldn't think clearly. Did he hear her right? A book deal? "Boris? You there, buddy?" Elise asked, half laughing, "I know it's a lot to take in, but-" "I'm here and that sounds wonderful," Boris said, "But like I said can I call you tomorrow?" "Absolutely, just phone my office in the early afternoon and we'll talk more then," Elise said. As the phone call came to an end, Boris slid the cell back into his pocket and looked at Lorraine standing near Larry's Gardenias, admiring them. She looked more beautiful than ever before, and for a brief moment in time Boris felt like he was a young man again. He felt like things were finally the way they always should've been. He and his wife loved one another more than they could imagine, he and his daughter were finally building a relationship worth having, he had found some sort of religious presence in his life and, finally, he was going to be a published author. As he walked down the gazebo steps and across the flagstone walkway, taking Lorraine by the hand, he kissed her on the cheek. "What was that all about?" she asked, "The call I mean." "Nothing that can't wait one more day," he said. And he wasn't wrong. After all, he'd waited 40 years already. What more could 24 hours hurt.
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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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