The carry on clutched tightly to her chest, she walked swiftly and deliberately as she could. Old age was supposed to bloom gently, gracefully she mused. For her it seemed to have run screaming from the building.
When had she gotten so old? When the whole mess had gotten started, while they knew they were forsaking their innocence, it never once occurred to them that some day they would no longer be young. The innocence obliterated, tired and old, and yet still here driven be a series of small decisions made during the dream of youth.
Oh those marvelous dreams, she smiled as she recalled every single one of those enchanting dreams. That Carly Simon person had once compared them to clouds in her coffee. A resigned sigh of agreement came from deep within her as the old woman moved as quickly and as determined as she could.
Those dreams were so aromatic, she thought, wafting up into their brains, daring them not to take that first sip. Then that rich, full body of flavor only whetted their appetite for more. More? Hell…they wanted it all, she remembered as she scanned the concord for what she now needed.
And all of it they had, more than they had imagined, if not always quite the way they imagined it. It had been robust, wholly satisfying and yes, even at times, a little nutty. She almost laughed—and cried—as she recalled those times, swallowing the memories with her mind. Then there was all that lovely, lovely cream---rich, smooth and delightful all folded into that big hot, steamy mug of dreams.
She stopped and put her hand on the wall to steady herself, take a breath and let the quick girlish giddiness of flavor pass. “It was good,’ she closed her eyes murmuring, “It was so good.”
She opened her eyes back to reality and looked at her hand on the wall, withered, gnarled and spotted. The cup was almost empty now and the coarse, bitter sediment of the final few sips hit her pallet.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” the man, a janitor she supposed, asked her.
“Yes…fine.” She said, hoping she’d remembered to turn on the twinkle in her eye. “I just thought I was younger and had to stop and let my age catch back up to me.” She explained although she realized she didn’t need to.
The janitor type person nodded his head. “Are you meeting someone?” He asked and then added, maybe a little too quickly, “I mean, do you need help with your bags? I could call a porter or something…”
“No need, young man.” She pulled up her strength and confidence with a smile. “I’m meeting some other old biddies, a reunion of sorts. We’ll muddle through somehow. We always do.” She lied, for oh so many reasons, except for the last part, which miraculously always seemed to end up the truth.
The man nodded and meandered on his blue collar barely above minimum wage way. She made sure he was out of sight before she headed for the sign that said "Rest Rooms".
Once safely inside, she paused only at the mirror to check her face. She turned her head from side to side inspecting. She smiled, Herman had taught her well. She checked the stalls, and slipped in the last one, closing the door, shutting the seat lid and using the commode as a chair. She listened intently for a while, contemplating her aloneness. It was almost over, she sighed.
She zipped open the little compartment of her carry on and pulled out the handy little gadget. She flipped it open and pressed a sequence of numbers she knew by heart. As the noisy little tones poured into her ear, she tapped her foot impatiently. “Pick up…pick up!” her voice echoed in her head as if she had said the words out loud.
The moment she heard the connection she blurted, “It’s Elizabeth’, maybe a little too loudly.
There was a slight pause at the other end of the connection. “Yes. I’ve been waiting.”
“It’s done.” She confirmed. She imagined the look on the other party’s face and the way she knew they would slightly drop their head. She knew them so well.
“Everything’s in place then.”
“One last little piece to throw in the box.” She said. “Then it’s over.”
“All we can do then is wait.” The voice on the other end replied.
Elizabeth nodded her head, knowing a vocal response wasn’t required. “This isn’t so much fun any more.” She said instead.
“I can’t remember the last time it was.” Th voice said. “But we have to do this.”
“One last time.” She resigned.
“Yes.”
Again there was a small silence between them, like the first jump into the pool. Elizabeth bit her lip and said it anyway. “What if he’s not the one?”
Confident and without hesitation the other end responded, “Then we’ll make him the one.”
She knew this was right. “If any one deserves it, he does.”
“By the time he finds the nasty stains at the bottom, we’ll be long gone.” There was a slight pause before the voice added, “hopefully.”
She ground her teeth. “I guess that’s all that’s left.”
“Finally”, was said with a sigh.
“You mean, again.” She corrected and then spewed on. “Consider that last puzzle piece taken care of.”
“I will” was said not coldly. “I always have.” Was added with a fondness that made her shudder.
“I’m finished after this…no more.” She said with finality. She started to touch the end button but the voice on the line called her name.
“Elizabeth…” they said. “Whatever happens, I’m prepared. I won’t run for cover.”
She smiled remembering. “You never do.” She closed the phone and stood up. Releasing the carry on from her shoulder, she dropped it on the toilet lid, gently sliding the little phone into its little zipper compartment. She opened the bag and reached for what she needed, exactly in the place where it needed to be. As she pulled it out and inspected it she wondered if she should have ended the call with “I love you”?
“Too late.” She said out loud as Elizabeth Elysian prepared for her final mission. “…Again.”
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