Well, there it was…Glenview Retirement Home. The little house shone with an odd cheeriness, the sun bouncing off the cherry red shingles in a way that set the whole yard in a happy glow.
I absentmindedly paid the taxi driver and shrugged away his praise when he realized I'd tipped him 45 bucks. It was just common courtesy, after all. No one seemed to have it anymore; not in this century, at least.
I'd been brawling with S.H.E.I.L.D for a long time before they let me come out here. After countless hours of questioning, classes about this age's technological advances, training (mental and physical), and trips to the lab, I was finally free to do what I wanted. I had immediately headed to the phonebooks and looked through them diligently, making phone calls and visiting random, out of the way places until I ended up with a name and an address on the outskirts of the suburbia surrounding New York.
I shrugged my trusty leather jacket further onto my shoulders and unhooked the gate. Getting back the jacket was a completely different ordeal, involving a lot of 'reasoning' with New York Historical Society. It still fit just right and smelled of gunpowder and smoke, reminding me of the good old days.
My shoes softly tapped on the sidewalk as I approached the door. A man in his late eighties watched me from a window on the right, smiling like he was in his own world. His eyes drifted around outside, darting from a tree to a car to my face, and back again. An even older woman at the other sat in a rocking chair, cradling an infant in her arms and grinning so much that it looked like her mouth hurt.
I approached the porch and hesitated about going inside, afraid of what I would find. I ran my fingers through my tousled and overgrown hair and sighed. It's now or never, Cap,I thought to myself.
When I stepped inside, I was greeted with a chatter equivalent to a country club: occasional laughter and whoops of victory breaking out of the monotone buzz. A woman in her early twenties, around my (visible) age, beckoned me over to the reception desk. Her dark, curled hair and ruby red lips sent a ping through me. My mind started making irrational conclusions, scrambling up my thoughts as I walked over to her. As soon as she spoke, though, my mind was cleared.
"Hi, Welcome to Glenview, where youare our number one priority! My name is Sarah Lee. How may I help you today, young man?" Of course it wasn't her. The voice was too high, too peppy; too…unintelligent. She leaned dangerously far over the counter and batted her eyelashes. It disgusted me; she was like an overeager puppy. I shrugged.
"I, um, I'm here to see someone." She bobbed her head enthusiastically and pulled out a clipboard.
"Yes, yes, good, good!" She took out a row of nametags with lilies on them and jotted down 'visitor.' "Now, I don't think I caught your name?"
"Erm, Steve Rogers." My heart skipped a beat as I waited for her to recognize the name.
"R-o-g-e-r-s?" She asked as she obnoxiously popped the gum I had just now noticed was in her mouth.
"Um, yup." I felt relieved that she didn't know who I wad; I was trying to keep myself on the down-low after my big 'jump-out-in-the-middle-of-Times-Square' ordeal. She nodded some more.
"Yeah, funny weather we're-"
"Where can I find Peggy Carter?" I was starting to sweat in anticipation.
"Oh, good ol' Peg? How do you know her?"
"We used to be…work colleagues." She smiled and stuck the nametag on my shirt, simultaneously slipping a scrawled on note into my breast pocket. I was itching to read it, but felt now was not the time.
"Room 58B; very back hallway and to the right. You can check the front room, but I doubt she'll be there. She mostly keeps to herself." She busied herself writing it down the number for me.
"Peggy'll appreciate visitors, she doesn't get many." Her face twisted into a quick expression of sadness.
"Well, not any, actually. Not since I've worked here, anyway." My heart began to beat a little faster as she handed me the paper.
"Good luck, Steve. And have a Glenviewday!" I gave her a half-hearted smile as I walked away.
The home was very alive for a place full of people so close to death. I quickly scanned the common room for her, but I only found people caught up in energetic games of chess, taking naps, or…flirting with each other? I shuttered a bit before finding the correct corridor. I checked in my pocket and found a number, which I assumed was the girl's. I crumpled it and threw it aside. A butterfly did unimaginable tricks in my stomach as I took slow yet deliberate steps towards her room; Peg's room.
I found it and stood in front of the door. Her name was written on a leaf of paper and taped there, small and perfect and…her. What was I waiting for? I turned the knob and entered. There, sitting on the bed, was the love of my life, hooked up to five different machines and facing the window, staring at the park outside. Young couples strolled happily, holding hands and showing other signs of affection. A singled tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away. I had decided to be strong. I craned my head to the left and found a cork board plastered with newspapers, newspapers about me, Captain America. She had never forgotten me.
"Peg-"
"You were late for our dance."
She stood and turned around. I was blown away by how different, yet the same, she was, from the Peg I knew. Her soft, wrinkled face was framed by a few wispy tufts of white hair. She'd probably shrunk a few inches, because I towered over her more now than ever.
"Well, I see that you've aged well," I mumbled sheepishly. She whacked me with surprising force on the stomach and said, "Oh, shut up, asshole."
"Peg, you waited for me all this time?"
"I knew you'd come back. You're so goddamn hard-headed that I knew you would find a way out." She sighed and smoothed down her rumpled shirt. "You're the only reason I've made it this long."
I gave a sad smile. "So, did you ever find the right partner to dance with?"
"Yeah, I found him a long time ago." She stepped towards me and, careful to move around her wires, I wrapped my strong arms around her frail waist. We danced for a while to silent music, content to be in each other's company. When she seemed she couldn't stand any longer, I lay her gently on her bed and tucked her in with a couple blankets.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"Waiting. Loving. Existing."
She did not reply, and instead closed her eyes and smiled a sly smile. I knew it was time as much as she did.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Peg."
I stood there for an hour, holding her soft hand and taking in her face. I wouldn't be seeing her again for a long, long time.
When her last shallow breath slipped out, I kissed her on the forehead. The monitors started beeping and I heard people shouting on the other side of the building. Just as I was taking my leave, I spotted the edge of a small moleskin journal peeking out from under her pillow. My lip trembled as I pulled it out. To Steve, it was titled.
I slipped it into my back pocket just as a nurse entered the room. I gave her a serious look and one nod, and she understood. She patted me on the back as she moved towards the bed. I left the building and didn't look back. My speed increased until I was full out sprinting down alley-ways and through parking lots, getting myself hopelessly lost in this new world, even more alien to me now than it had even been with the knowledge that Peg was in it somewhere. After God knows how long I sat down behind a coffee shop and opened her book, flipping to a random page. I lay my hand on her small handwriting and squeezed my eyes shut tight before opening them again.
Dear Steve,
You've been gone for a few years now. I miss you every day, but I've now realized what you did was for the good of the country. The war is over; you helped a lot with that. Thank you. You're pretty much the face of America now; I'm sure you'd be really proud of yourself to see that, if you were here. I feel crazy writing these letters to you, but I hope you'll read them, whether you're up in the sky watching me or buried in the ice. I love you.
Always and Sincerely yours,
Peg
I flipped to another page, the tears already starting to make stains on the paper.
Dear Steve,
Peg here…well, of course it's me. Who else, right? Well, anyway…
Several hours later, I felt a strong hand clamp on my shoulder.
"Look, I'm really not the guy to mug right now."
"Ha-ha, Steve, as if you could beat me in a fight." I turned around.
"Oh, hey, Natasha." I realized that I probably looked like crap, to say the least.
"I don't know what you did or why your eyes look like you were punched in the face numerous times by Fury, but you seriouslylook like you need a drink."
I stood up and tucked Peg's journal away, wanting to smile but feeling as if I didn't have the power to do so, or at least not for a while. I shrugged.
"Can't get drunk, remember?"
