"You're quite the lucky man," Dr. Learner said as he took the blood pressure wrap off Boris's arm and chuckled, "you live with a nurse. That's going to make things much easier on your part. Granted, she probably won't be very happy with the situation, but hey, you'll be dead soon enough, so at least she won't have to deal with it for too long."
"You're real charming, you know that?" Boris asked, rubbing his arm and making Dr. Learner laugh. After he'd hung the machine back on the wall, he took a seat on the little spinning stool and looked at Boris, who continued massaging his arm where it'd just been slightly squished by the machine. "How are you feeling? Have you told anyone what's happening yet?" Dr. Learner asked. "...I have not. Well, I told my friend Carol, but nobody else. I don't really know how to break this kind of news to people. As for how I'm feeling personally, uh, I could be better but I'm walking again so the joy of that kinda supersedes anything else, doesn't it?" he finished, shrugging, "besides, how does one break news like that? You said it yourself, there's no card for this sort of situation." "Weird isn't it? There's cards for it from the opposite end. My condolences for your loss, etc etc, but nothing from the person dying to give the ones they'll leave behind. 'Sorry for your impending grief' or something akin to that," Dr. Learner said as he stood up and started to gather his things, prepared to end this little follow up; he chuckled and shook his head as he gathered his charts, adding, "I tell ya, they say the worst part of this job is telling people they're going to die, and it's right up there, I won't deny, but in actuality the worst part of this job is being unable to help them get better. Sooner or later we're all gonna die, but I'm in a profession that seeks to extend that lifespan wherever possible, so to be unable to do just that, even if for a bit longer...it stings." Boris smiled weakly, appreciating Alan's candor. Dr. Learner shook Boris's hand, then, charts under arm, exited the examining room, leaving Boris alone on the table. He sighed and stood up, pulling his jacket back on over his short sleeved button down shirt and readjusting his tie. Boris knew he had to start telling people eventually, but he was hoping to get away with that as slowly as possible. He didn't want grief surrounding him while he was still here, after all. Still, he was going to need Whittle's help, considering she was a nurse, but when Boris arrived back at the apartment, Whittle was nowhere to be found. Instead she'd left a note, which simply read: "Running an errand, be back soon." *** "Is that the right house?" Jenn asked, sitting in the passenger seat of the car, wearing a pale yellow turtleneck and brown slacks. Whittle, in the drivers seat, was watching a house across the street from where they'd parked in a nice upscale neighborhood. Whittle, dressed in a brown button down short sleeved shirt and black jeans, nodded in response to the question. "This isn't weird, right? I'm not weird," Whittle said, glancing at Jenn, who just smiled back at her and patted her leg. "It's sweet how considerate you are," Jenn replied, "you lived with and took care of her for a good while, I think she'll be touched by how much you care." "I don't wanna stalk a tween," Whittle said, making Jenn chuckle as she added, "that's not a good look." Just then they saw two adults exit the house, a man and woman - presumably Chrissy's parents - and kiss before getting into their respective cars and driving off. Whittle and Jenn waited a moment, before getting out of the car and heading across the street. This felt so wrong, Whittle thought, but she just couldn't imagine how Chrissy was doing, and she had to know she was alright. As they approached the house, Whittle began looking through the windows, until finally she heard Jenn whistle quietly and came to her. Jenn pointed at the window she was in front of, well towards the back of the house, and Whittle glanced through, spotting Chrissy sitting on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring at nothing. Whittle tapped on the glass, and Chrissy sprung up, glancing around. When she caught sight of Whittle, she beamed, and quickly got off the bed and threw open the window, lunging herself out of it and throwing her arms around Whittle's neck. "Hey hey, hah, hi!" Whittle said, surprised by the surprising amount of affection. "You came for me," Chrissy cried into Whittle's neck, and this broke her heart. Whittle raised her hands and rubbed Chrissy's back, nodding. "I did," she said, "I'm here. It's okay. You're okay now." Jenn stepped back and smiled, watching this adorable interaction. This, she thought, was the kind of miracle God allows. *** Lorraine dropped a few ice cubes into the glass and handed it to Boris as she walked back towards the couch in the den. Once seated, she lit a cigarette and took a puff, watching Boris sip his drink cautiously before seating himself on the nearby love seat. "I'm surprised by this little visit," Lorraine said, "certainly not put off, but surprised. Usually you call first. It's rare you just drop on by." "I had to see you," Boris said, "I had to...see you." "Well that's sweet, if not a tad ominous," Lorraine said, chuckling, "I saw your book in a store the other day! Just right out there, in front, next to all the other newish releases. Was pretty vindicating to be able to see your name and think 'hey, I know him, I'm married to him!'. I'm proud of you." "I'm dying," Boris said, flatly, and Lorraine's face changed instantly. She dabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray beside the couch and then leaned forward, smoothing out her skirt over her knees and exhaling. She took a moment, ran her hands through her medium length bobbed haircut and then, finally, looked Boris in the face. "You want to repeat that?" she asked, "because I swear I thought you said-" "I'm dying," Boris said, "...yeah...and uh...I felt like you needed to know before some other people, considering, ya know, you're my wife and the mother of my child. Where is Ellen anyway? I thought she was going to be here today. Said she had something she wanted to show us. Well, either way, you had to hear this. They say it could only take a few months. They've run further tests, and it...there's nothing they can do about it. I just have what time I have left, which could be a few months to a year maybe. Totally uncertain. Regardless, it's terminal." Lorraine nodded, taking it all in before standing up and walking over to the loveseat and sitting next to Boris, putting her hand on his shoulder and looking at him. Boris, embarrassed, looked up from his feet to Lorraine, their eyes meeting, as she smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "To get to know someone as much as I've gotten to know you, to spend an entire lifetime with someone, even if we aren't together always, was such an interesting experience that I feel humbled for being given," Lorraine whispered, resting her forehead against his, tears rolling down her cheeks, "I'm just sorry we wasted so much time." "That's my fault, you shouldn't apologize for it. I was the one who walked away. I just couldn't live with myself after the accident, and I felt like my presence just hurt you both more because you'd never be able to forgive me, when in reality, I was the only one not able to forgive me," Boris said, "so you have nothing to apologize for. I wasted our time. I wasted everyone's time. And I'm going to regret it more now that I'm running out of time to make up for it with." They sat there like that for a few minutes, foreheads pressed against one another, both silently crying. "I'm scared," Boris whispered, stuttering, his voice shaky. "I believe you." "I don't want to leave yet." "You aren't," Lorraine said back, gently kissing his forehead, "not yet." Just then the front door and Ellen entered, wearing a plain pink dress and smiling from ear to ear, only for that smile to fade the second she saw her parents. Lorraine and Boris looked up at Ellen, who slowly approached them and held out her left hand, showing off a pretty, small ring snugly tucked onto her ring finger. Boris looked at the ring, then at Lorraine and then they both looked back up at Ellen. "I'm getting married," she said, "...what's going on? I hope I didn't interrupt something." *** Carol, seated at her desk in her office while Burt read a book in a chair nearby, groaned as she put her pen down and looked around the office. Just then the door opened and, of all people, Father John Krickett entered, shutting the door behind him. Carol perked right up, sitting up straight again from her slouch and smiling politely as he approached the desk, putting down a folder with papers inside it. "This is from the bank from today," he said, "this is, um, current cost estimates. I need you to go over them, sign off on them, then get them back to me. I really need to start doing furnishings." Carol pulled the folder towards her with her fingertip, nodding. "I can do that," she said, "uh, how are you?" "Today? Uh, hasn't been particularly bad I suppose, all things considered. Hectic, overwhelming at times, but not bad outright, so that's a plus," John said, chuckling, "I mean, I did have to spend some time at the bank, and that's never fun, but you know. It is what it is." "I meant more like with Boris. How are you holding up?" Carol asked, and John looked at her, raising one eyebrow, seemingly confused. "...what do you mean?" he asked, and that's when it dawned on Carol that Boris likely still hadn't said anything to him yet. She started to attempt to backpeddle. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I was thinking of something else. Sometime you two were mad at one another. sorry. Old age, father, it really can screw up your cognitive faculties," Carol said, laughing nervously, "you know how it is. One day you've got a photographic memory and the next you can't remember your own name." "...what's my name again?" Burt asked, looking up from his book. "Shut up Burt," Carol snapped at him, uninterested at his humor at this particular moment, before turning her focus back to the priest and adding through a thinly veiled smile, "anyway, please forgive me. I'm not good at remembering what's going on between two people, but yes, I can get this done for you quickly! Definitely! When exactly do you need them by?" "...anytime tomorrow is fine," John said, now suspicious, "...thanks." Father Krickett turned and headed out into the hall, unsure of what exactly to make of the interaction he'd just had, when he thought about stopping at the apartment on his way home that night, just to see if everything was alright. Carol had inadvertently planted a seed of doubt into his mind, and now he had to see it through. *** "It's not too bad," Chrissy said. She, Jenn and Whittle had now entered her bedroom fully through the window and were now seated on the floor as Chrissy explained to them her new living situation back home with her parents. "I mean, they're definitely better than they were, that's for sure," Chrissy said, "they don't yell nearly as much, some days not at all, and when they do start they stop and instead try to talk about things calmly for my benefit. They still have lots of issues, but they've definitely gotten better at managing it, especially in front of me." "That's so good to hear," Whittle said, "we miss you at the apartment." "...why did she come?" Chrissy asked, glancing at Jenn, who just smirked at the question. "I wanted company," Whittle said, "I didn't want to come here alone, in case there was some kind of problem. Not that I think a nun would be of much help in terms of defense, but you never know. She could secretly know karate or something." Chrissy looked at Jenny, eyes a little wide. "DO you know karate?" Chrissy asked, her voice low. "Make me mad and find out," Jenny said, the three girls laughing. Whittle had been blindsided by just how much she'd missed Chrissy once she was no longer a daily staple in her life. Once her room was empty, and she no longer resided within the apartment, Whittle felt liker her life was now so much emptier as a result, and this both surprised and bothered her. On one hand, she was surprised by how attached she'd become, always claiming she didn't want to be a mother but then growing to feel like one. On the other hand, she was bothered by how upsetting this loss actually was. She always knew that at some point Chrissy could leave. Chrissy could be taken home. But it just...it had been so long now, it just seemed like an impossible thing. The reality now sinking in saddened Whittle. "How's Boris?" Chrissy asked, and Whittle shrugged. "I actually haven't talked to him much lately, despite sharing a living space," she said, "he's been kind of off in his own little world lately. If I do get the chance to talk to him, I'll ask him how he's doing, and I'll tell him you asked. So you're doing okay though, right?" Chrissy hesitated, then nodded, smiling warmly, which made Whittle feel better. Which was nice, because her night would not end on a good note. *** Whittle plopped her keys on the table by the door as she and Jenn entered the apartment, giggling to themselves. After meeting with Chrissy, they'd stopped off and had dinner somewhere, then necked for a while in the car before deciding to come back to the apartment, expecting to be alone, and surprised when they flicked on the kitchenette lights only to discover Boris sitting at the table. Boris was sipping from a glass of wine, while Whittle and Jenn came around the table and looked at him. He finally glanced up at them and smiled weakly. "...you never drink wine," Whittle said. "It's true," Boris said, yawning, "but at this point, why not go for everything?" Whittle seated herself slowly, Jenn standing behind her, arms over Whittle's shoulders. "What...what does that mean?" Whittle asked as Boris finished his glass, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and leaned forward a little. "...I need your help, Regina," Boris said, "I...I need your help. I can't go to the hospital, I don't wanna go back to the home, and I need to...I need someone to help me figure out how to approach end of life plans and get my affairs in order and-" "Boris Boris whoa, what...what the hell are you talking about?" Whittle asked. "...I'm dying, Regina," Boris said, watching her put her hand to her mouth, her eyes squinting with sadness, almost instant tears; Boris nodded and continue, "um...I didn't want to tell you, but I need your help. You're the most talented and compassionate person I've ever met involved in the medical field, and right now, I need your expertise and kindness. I'm scared. I need your help." Whittle nodded slowly, hand still over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She felt Jenny massaging her shoulders, and was so grateful she had come home with her. Staring at his old face, Whittle started to feel like they'd gone so long without loss, and now loss was making a massive comeback. First the stroke, then Chrissy being taken away, now a terminal diagnosis...what would come next? All she knew was that she sat there and she studied his face like it were an old map she was trying to memorize a route on. Like she was afraid she'd never see it again. Because she knew, likely soon... ...she never would. "...is there more wine?" Whittle asked, and Boris, smirking, raised his glass. "Atta girl, drink up, and you, you're a nun, wine's allowed," Boris said, making Jenn smirk as she went to retrieve more glasses for them. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for tonight. Without Boris, Whittle would still be at her old job, and would still be with her old boyfriend, and she wouldn't have become close to Chrissy, she wouldn't have met Sister Jenn and fallen in love, she wouldn't be who she was today without the old man. Amazing, she thought, the way the elderly can alter the youth, even with such a simple act of kindness. And now, after all Boris had given her, inadvertently or otherwise, she intended to repay it.
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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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