Here's a long story I wrote in Fiction writing called "Home".
They had no real “future” since any moment could be their last. They didn’t have much of a “present” either. No, all they had now was their past which they laid out before them like cards onto a table. They all sat around in a circle, dealing, shuffling, holding back the cards they wanted to keep for themselves, and passing forward what cards they felt were best to play. Their cards were old and faded, bent at the edges. They’d been played hundreds of times in one lifetime.
They all carried the remnants of the past with them - whether hidden away in drawers or shown in plane sight. Everyone had watches of course. Few people on this planet don’t. They had lost the use for them now, but most still wore them out of habit. They had also lost their need for material possessions. Not much use for a Rolex in heaven. The only objects they kept were small things that still had some meaning to them.
Meredith Lorel thought such sentiments were foolish. She had no use for photos because her memory was still fine. She had no need for trinkets or nick knacks because she had no use for them. However it did pain her to admit that she held on to a few objects she couldn’t bear to part with. One was her wedding ring, and although her husband had been dead over a year, she still felt it was socially acceptable to wear. The other object she clung to was harder to rationalize. It was a ticket stub for the Tilden Park Merry-Go-Round. The orange color of the tickets was faded, but the memory attached was as fresh in her mind as the day it happened.
It was a rainy Tuesday night in August when they’d met. 3 A.M. She had been up all night studying for a final exam. She decided to go take a break to get a cup of coffee. The diner across the street was open. She had been there, drinking coffee about five minutes when he walked in. The place was completely empty, except for her. He walked up and asked if he could have coffee with her. Though she didn’t know him, she was polite and said yes. They talked for a while and she learned his name was Charlie Lorel. He worked the night shift at Milton’s Grocery Store and was now on a break. For the next hour the two talked like they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. He mentioned that he lived near Tilden Park, and when she said she’d never been there he asked her out of the blue if she wanted to go. She was shy but said yes. That Saturday they went. They walked around for a while, still keeping a respectful distance, when they came upon the Merry-Go-Round. He bought their tickets and they chose to sit on a swan bench. They sat apart at first, but as they talked they started getting closer to each other. Then Charlie put his arm around her. They looked into each other’s eyes, and just like in the movies, they leaned in for a kiss. Meredith felt her whole world spin, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of Charlie or the ride. After that she knew he was the man for her. She married him a year later in June. After that everything happened quickly. She’d had one son, Jeremy. She stayed home to raise him while Charlie worked. They’d been together over 61 years when he passed away. She hadn’t cried over his death. No use wasting tears over something no one could change.
Now Meredith sat on the edge of her bed holding the stub. Her gray hair combed neatly into waves, just as it had been back then. Her sharp eyes glared down at the paper in her hand. So foolish, she thought. I was such a naïve girl back then. Then, pulling the drawer next to her open, she tossed the ticket stub in and shut it.
It was 10:30 A.M. at the Ashby Care Center in Berkeley, California. Time for Arts and Crafts. Meredith walked slowly down the hallway, passing ghosts and shells of people as she went. Opening the art room door, she quickly spotted her “friends” and walked over to them. They were sitting at a large plastic table which was covered in all sorts of art supplies. Glitter, glue, paper, string, scissors . . . everything a crafter needed.
Looking around the room, Meredith was displeased to notice how many people were wearing pajamas. She thought, we might be old, but we’re not dead. Show some self-respect. Glancing over at Mary Sheredy she then thought, even Mary’s managed to put on a decent blouse and a pant suite, and she’s insane. Mary was completely oblivious to her gaze. She just stared forward through her wrinkled eyes. Meredith thought to herself, what a shame. As she looked at her she noted the cat collar Mary wore around her wrist like a bracelet. She took it everywhere she went. Mary suffered from Alzheimer’s and now whenever she spoke it was mostly to talk about her cat Peaches who had died prior to her arrival at Ashby Care Center 7 months earlier.
“Peaches use to eat my flowers. I’d bring nice roses in from the garden and he’d get up on the table and chew on them. Took them right out of the vase. He was such a silly cat . . .”
“So what do you think we’re going to make today?” Laurie Shipman said cheerily, interrupting Mary.
“Something to distract us until lunchtime,” Amy Pilk said in a vacant, depressed tone.
Amy Pilk was Meredith’s roommate. Her hair was white and fluffy. She didn’t brush it, which bothered Meredith. Her eye sight was starting to fail her so she wore big glasses that seemed to take up her entire face. Amy said appearances didn’t matter much to her anymore since she would only be around a little while longer. Her husband had died 6 months earlier and she had become very religious since. She carried a gold cross around her neck and kept a Bible in her drawer at all times. Some Sundays she even went to church. Every night she would kneel beside her bed and say a silent prayer. Meredith thought anyone who knows Amy knows what she was praying for. She was without a doubt the most bleak and gloomy person at the home. Laurie Shipman, on the other hand, was one of the most talkative and lively people there. She was 67, the youngest person in the group, and had had hip replacement surgery a month earlier. She was recovering fast and would leave soon. Not soon enough, thought Meredith.
“Admire a rose for its beauty, but beware of its thorns.” Laurie was reading from her Chinese Fortunes again. She kept them in a small blue sack. Laurie said she wanted to see which ones had come true. She read them to the group daily. “Adventure can be real happiness. I know that one’s true,” Laurie said, “I’ve been on more adventures than I can count.” I bet she does count them, Meredith thought. She constantly goes on and on about her “stories”. That’s probably all they are. No person could have ever accomplished all the things she claims to have done. Back packing in Italy? Kayaking in Mexico, rock climbing in Sweden, sailing off the coast of Peru? Come on. No one is stupid enough to believe she did all that. Then, for some reason, Meredith thought back to Charlie. He had asked her dozens of times if she wanted to go on a vacation. Meredith had said no, it was a waste of money. She was perfectly content to stay at home. But now she looked back and wondered why she hadn’t gone. “It is a simple task to make things complex, but a complex task to make things simple. Oh, hey did I show you my blanket I got in Panama? I sleep with it every night. It was hand-woven and has the prettiest colors.” Meredith had seen it. I bet she got it a garage sale for $5, Meredith thought.
It was now 11:30. Time for lunch. The group got up, Laurie on her crutches and Meredith on her cane, and they walked out towards the dining room. Amy went back to their room to get something. Meredith guessed it was to pray to God again. Secretly, Meredith feared that one day God would answer Amy’s prayers and finally end her life. Meredith thought, and then I’d be left alone with Laurie until she left. Then it would just me and Peaches. Oh God.
On her way to the lunch table, Meredith passed by Rex Clint in his wheelchair. His name instantly made her think of Rex Harrison, the actor. Unfortunately the first name was all they had in common. As far as Meredith could tell, Rex was an angry man. He mostly sat in his chair, silently, staring ahead at nothing. He never talked and no one ever spoke to him. The Purple Heart he wore on his vest said enough. His grandson came in almost everyday to see him, though it wasn’t by choice. His name was Patrick Floyd. He was 16. His mother made him come to keep him out of trouble, and it was clear to Meredith why. He was sitting at the table across from them. The strait front bangs of his black hair were covering half his face while the top of his head was spiked. He wore black cargo pants and a black shirt with a black and white striped long-sleeve shirt underneath. On his head he had big headphones which were attached to his iPod. He was looking down, staring at the lighter in his hand, which confused and frightened Meredith because he didn’t smoke. And to finish the look, his nails were black where he’d painted them, no doubt to match the rest of his outfit. What a creep, Meredith thought as she went around the opposite side of the table to be as far from him as possible. Now she couldn’t help but stare at him. She looked at his headphones, which seemed to be latched onto his head. Wouldn’t want any noise reaching those ears, she thought. I’m surprised he wasn’t hit by a car on his walk over here. God knows he wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of a car horn two feet away with that gear on his head.
The food is bland and flavorless - like most of the residents here, Meredith thought. I guess it’s true, you are what you eat. “I always fed Peaches tuna. Only the best for my peaches. I even tried feeding him peaches once. Peaches didn’t like peaches.” Mary had come alive for a moment - talking slowly, but coherently.
“Here’s a picture I took of my cousin and I off the coast of Guatemala. That was a fun trip,” Laurie said, handing Amy the photograph. Amy glanced at it indifferently, before passing it on to Mary who stared at it with wide eyes, not knowing what she was looking at.
“Oh did you hear?” Laurie asked with a hint of sadness in her voice, “Greg Hampshire in Room 409 passed away last night. It is so sad.” Amy then turned to her said rather stiffly,
“You didn’t even know him”.
“Yah, but it’s still sad.”
Then Amy muttered under her breathe, “Sad for us, not for him.”
“Peaches was always chasing mice in the garden. He was good at it too. Once he brought me two mice at once. I was so proud of my Peaches. I gave him sardines . . .”
God, Meredith thought. Here Mary goes again with her Peaches. These may be my last moments on earth and they have to be wasted listening to this garbage. I bet she’d have stuffed the cat and put it on her nightstand if they’d let her. I hope she dies soon so she and her stupid cat can be re-united and leave the rest of us here in peace. The months spent listening to Mary’s stories were starting to get to Meredith. Luckily the conversation quickly changed and moved from Peaches to gardening. Meredith wasn’t really listening though. She picked up phrases here and there but the rest didn’t seem to matter.
“I use to grow sweet onions and potatoes in my garden.”
“We called ground squirrels ‘tree rats’”.
“The food here isn’t very good, but it’s less expensive than dining out.”
“I remember when lunch use to be 35 cents. Now it’s $10 to $20. And don’t even get me started on gas prices.”
“I once ate on a yacht outside Costa Rica. Lunch cost me $100! Can you believe it?”
“Luckily my son is 25 and has a stable job so he doesn’t have to worry much about money.”
“My daughter works for a firm outside of Bakersfield.”
“My son was always so glum when he was going to college. One day I saw him and I just had to say ‘Honey, I know life is hard, but it’s not that depressing. Smile’. Kids these days . . .”
Meredith remembered her own son when it was time for him to go to college. He told her he wanted to be a mechanic. She had said, “You can’t be a mechanic Jeremy. They don’t make any money and no son of mine is going to walk around without a proper education.” The whole thing had put a strain on their relationship. He ended up going to college and getting a good job as a clerk. He now had a wife and kids. They only visited her on holidays. Whether it was out of guilt or obligation Meredith didn’t know. She was overly critical of him. Shortly after Charlie died, Meredith had a slight stroke that had left her weak. Then Jeremy came and took her to Ashby, probably so he didn’t have to worry about her anymore. These thoughts troubled Meredith and she quickly pushed them out of her mind and started into the conversation.
“I don’t know about kids these days. They’re all too busy listening to music and watching T.V. to contribute anything to society.”
“I agree completely,” said Laurie, “It makes me wonder what they are going to do about the world when it’s their turn to take care of it.”
The group then started discussing teenagers and the problems with the youth of modern America. Meredith spoke freely and passionately on the subject, glancing over from time to time at Patrick, who she thought would have heard them if his headphones weren’t on. However, Patrick could hear them. He had turned his iPod off and was texting a friend on his cell phone. Eventually Patrick had enough of their conversation, casually walked over to their table where they now sat silently staring at him, and leaned in to say, “Don’t worry, you won’t be around to think that much longer.” He then turned and walked out of the room, turing on his iPod to listen to some Chevelle.
The table was quiet for 2 minutes after that. They all just started at each other in disbelief. “I’m going to go to my room,” Amy said as she got up to leave. Then Mary started talking, “He had white fur with orange and black spots. His eyes were so green. My Peaches . . .” Meredith suddenly felt trapped. The room seemed to get smaller and the air seemed harder to breathe. What was she doing here? She could be anywhere in the world doing anything and she was here. Stuck. She saw it, just for a moment. She pictured herself sailing the seas off the coast of Chile. She saw her hair blowing in the breeze and the waves crashing along side her. She felt the hot sun on her skin . . . What was she thinking? Meredith quickly regained herself. Imagine me sailing at my age, she thought while smiling to herself. How foolish. But then she thought soberly, perhaps it’s my soul trying to get free of my body. Then she heard a loud scream. Everybody jumped up, including Mary. Down the hall, outside the room, they could hear a loud commotion. “What’s happening?” Laurie asked frantically.
A moment later a nurse came in the room to calm everyone down. She informed Meredith that her roommate, Amy, had been taken to a safe room where doctors were seeing to her. She explained that Amy must have stolen some scissors during Arts and Crafts and had taken them to her room. After lunch she had planned on stabbing herself with them. Luckily Patrick had been walking by her room just moments before she plunged the scissors into her chest. Patrick managed to wrestle the scissors away from her and a passing nurse called for help. “Oh my God,” was all Meredith could say.
Meredith walked slowly to her room. She looked in, not knowing what to expect. Everything was in order. Nothing had been moved around during the struggle. Meredith sat on the edge of her bed silently, looking down at the floor. At first she couldn’t think of anything. She was in too much shock. Then a thought came to her. It seems like everyone fears death. No, it seems like everyone fears getting old. Death they learn to accept, but getting old is always feared. The beautiful young fear getting wrinkles. The strong fear becoming weak and useless. Then she wondered what she feared. She tried not to let herself think about it. No point dwelling on such dismal things. But she knew. She feared losing her sanity. She feared losing that $25,000 education she had earned. She feared losing all the memories she was too scared to face. But mostly she feared regret. The regret of living a safe life of denial. Of never going beyond the front door. Regret for never wanting more than was put on her plate. Regret for never reaching for something beyond the kitchen counter, the dirty floors, the dirty rags. She saw herself again, riding on the waves of a sailboat. The sun shining down, the water softly cooling her arms. The feel of the sea beneath her feet. Regret for not telling Charlie she loved him. Regret for all those wasted years. Then, for the first time since her husband’s death, she cried.
