A/Ns
As you get further in, you'll see Martha further channeling Shirley MacLaine's Academy Award Winning Aurora Greenway character. Fun. Also, thanks for sticking with me. If you would have told me three weeks ago when I posted chapter 1 that I'd be 35,000 words in and not yet have Elsie and Charles together yet, I would have thought everyone crazy, myself included. Regardless, last chapter below and then I guarantee they get together! Enjoy!
Friday, 9 March 2018
Elsie escaped the flu last weekend and even much of a head cold in the days that followed by intently resting after she had started to feel poorly and doing what she could to be easy on herself since then. Though by the time she walked home after facilitating her Thursday night group therapy session, she felt the week catching up to her. Knowing the fridge was all but empty, she picked up Pret a Manger take away - a simple sandwich and soup - during the middle of the day with the intent it would be her supper at home after group. Shortly thereafter, she had crawled into bed for the night and slept like a baby.
Rain dominated the entire weekend forecast starting Friday afternoon and so this morning was the only dry option for her training walk. Shortly after 7:00, Elsie and Igor headed out the door. To minimize the commuter traffic interference, this morning she guided them to the south, to Crystal Palace Park, specifically. She hadn't been there in many months yet it was a destination that came to mind. Big mistake being there with Igor, he simply became (more) deranged and protective as they neared the dinosaur sculptures, pulling her toward them. Elsie reigned him in and forged ahead in a circuitous route around the park, but made a note not to bring Igor there again. She had carried along a ball that she tossed for him to chase, but not the ball launcher for fear of wearing him out to the point of needing to cool off in a pond again, the way he had that day two weekends ago when they had met Mr. Carson.
Mr. Carson; she wondered how he was doing. She had contemplated asking Beryl how to reach him to thank him once again for the kind gesture of the flowers he presented to her and Becky at the Yew Tree Veterinary Clinic but didn't want to add Beryl of Monkeys drama to a quite lovely little gesture; on top of a coincidence.
Elsie was balancing the distance of her training walk with the reality that she could not afford to reverse the progress she had made in her recovery this week, as well as the opportunity for additional steps to be taken to the local Sainsbury's and back as she badly needed to restock the fridge. And so they headed home, arriving shortly after 10:00. She got Igor settled with fresh water, herself with the same – warm out of the tap – and a slice of toast before sticking him in the kennel and grabbing her shopping trolley and two other empty bags. The fridge really was empty, and she had the goal of cooking.
By the time she returned, she was again starving, having worked up an appetite thanks to her most-of-the morning workout. She poured a glass of milk, grabbed a couple slides of cheese and a heaping handful of raw veg just to get her over the edge and allow her to keep going putting away the groceries. She didn't put everything away for it was her intent, at the very least, to prepare a lamb stew and shortbreads today. She wanted to see Becky and needed to check in on Martha who was anxious still for her new nightie to be delivered and both would share in the sweet treats, though Becky wouldn't want any of the lamb. A haircut was scheduled for Saturday afternoon and housekeeping – Elsie was embarrassed to admit she'd lost 20 precious minutes earlier this week, on the same morning no less, minutes apart searching for her keys under many piles of papers and such lying about – was on her Saturday docket as well.
Elsie chopped the veg for the stew, browned the meat and dropped them into a big pot to simmer for a few hours before sitting down to a more proper lunch of prepared chicken salad and rocket on fresh sourdough. The bread tasted so good (anymore she tried to avoid gluten, finding that it helped her keep her weight down), she actually moaned her satisfaction aloud, drawing Igor's attention from the parlor where he was otherwise entertaining himself with toys of various sorts. As she ate, Elsie thumbed through a few clothing catalogues that had arrived – Boden, Joules, Sweaty Betty, John Lewis, and Fifty Plus. Increasingly with her busy lifestyle, she found herself shopping online and had ordered from all these, save for the last which annoyed her that "big brother" knew her to be indeed over 50. She knew it was too late to order a new frock for Sunday, but perhaps if something caught her eye, she'd order it for later in the spring. But nothing jumped out at her. She was not an impulse buyer, frugal with her money and her wardrobe space; anything new had to really be special for her to purchase it.
Next, she set about the shortbreads, mixing up the batter and warming the oven before starting to put in tray after tray of the shortbreads to bake then cool. Little did she know she was humming to herself throughout the process. She was neither a great cook nor baker but this she enjoyed.
The last of the shortbreads cooling on the counter, it was well after 3:00 before Elsie even had a chance to head upstairs to shower. She remembered she needed to label Martha's new nightgown so that it wouldn't get lost in the communal laundry and so with her black laundry marker, Elsie wrote "M. LEVINSON" on the inside of the collar, right below the tag at the back.
A few minutes later in the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back, rinsing the conditioner from her hair, Elsie suddenly realized she had left Igor out and alone with dozens of short breads on the counter! She turned the faucet off as quickly as possible, put one towel around her hair, and was toweling off the rest of herself as she ran downstairs. Too late, for Igor had made it up to the counter and had a bellyful of shortbreads as evidenced by the near-empty cooling racks in disarray. "IGOR! You damned dog!" Elsie started to cry. She'd had it. She knew she was as much to blame as him, but blaming him entirely was more satisfying.
Elsie would need to make another batch for she had intended to bring some as well along to the party on Sunday, but rather than start that now, she decided it better to get out of the house soon, let Igor soak in his punishment whilst she ran to see Becky and Martha, before things got too late. She tasted the stew, the meat now nice and tender, and took it off the heat, parsing some of it off into a container for Martha before heading back upstairs – Igor in his kennel this time – to get dressed.
She called Becky and advised she was on her way and to expect her in 45 minutes, they'd go on to Martha's and then have their supper out together at one of Becky's favorite diners, in fact the one where she had first been introduced to chocolate chip and banana pancakes. Surprisingly, Becky wasn't totally enthused with the plan. She knew that at 7:45, she and the other residents of her home were due to sit down to popcorn and the 2014 Paddington movie, in anticipation of an outing tomorrow for Fatima's birthday for all to see Paddington 2 in the cinema.
Igor stood up in his kennel when he saw Elsie putting her coat on, thinking he'd be let out but Elsie had other ideas, "Oh no, Igor. You are staying here." With that, she zipped herself up, grabbed the shopping bag in which she'd put the stew, shortbread tins, sourdough, and Martha's nightie and headed out the door.
4:50 pm
Becky and Violet in the back seat, Elsie parked at Times of Endearment and piled everyone and everything out of the car toward the front door. As usual, they signed in but since she had not notified Martha that they were coming, she was not down to the community room yet. They peeked into the dining room just beyond where some of the oldest residents were already finishing the first evening meal service. Elsie was not surprised, Martha much preferred to eat her evening meal, in the actual evening. So they headed up to Martha's "apartment," a decent size single bedroom unit with private bath, sitting area and kitchenette, though Martha took most of her meals downstairs, it was only when Elsie delivered favourites like the lamb stew that Martha would even use the microwave.
The door was open when they arrived and yet Elsie did not see Martha inside. She knocked, no answer. So she knocked again and called out, "Martha, it's Elsie and Becky."
Becky piped in, "And Violet!" Elsie shushed her, she was attempting to hear an answer when suddenly Martha's voice rang out behind them.
"What are you two doing here?"
All three in their respective coordinated or clumsy ways spun around to see Martha walking toward them, from a door across the hall and down one and brushing off the front of her jumper. "Nice to see you too, Martha," Elsie replied with just a little disappointment in her voice.
"Oh, that's not what I mean," Martha explained as she gave each of them a hug and shuffled into her apartment.
"Where were you?"
"Just across the hall, visiting a new friend." Elsie knew Martha didn't have many friends, her abrasive personality scared many new prospects – and old standbys, in time – away. So, this was a step forward. If someone liked Martha enough to invite her in, that was promising.
Martha went in further and settled into her favorite chair, near the window. "Seriously, what are you doing here?"
"Again, so nice to see you, Martha. Why the interrogation?"
"I mean why are you here now?" Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Martha continued, "It's Friday, Fridays are date nights; you should be getting ready for a date, not coming to see some old woman at an assisted living center." Elsie just rolled her eyes. Here they go again, and not even 5 minutes into the visit.
"Well, the old crotchety woman in an assisted living center whom I know best was in need of a new nightgown, and it so happens I know she loves lamb stew and shortbread, both of which I made this afternoon. So, we're here tonight to deliver all."
"Oh, let me see the nightgown!"
Elsie had placed it on top in her bag, so that if any stew leaked out of its container, it wouldn't drip onto the nightgown. Elsie explained their successful shopping trip last week Friday, and the two-for-one sale. Becky described some of the racy garments she'd seen hanging in the lingerie department when Elsie was shopping for Martha's nightie.
As she listened to Becky's descriptions – and giggles – Martha herself was all the more excited to see what Elsie had picked out, so when Elsie finally had the gown out of the bag and held it up for her, Martha's immediate change in expression left no doubt of her disappointment. "What's wrong? I thought it was cute. I know it will be comfortable and perfectly functional."
"Functional."
"What?"
"That's just it, you said it yourself, it's…'functional.' Nothing like what Becky here was describing a moment ago."
"Oh Martha," Elsie just rolled her eyes, her frustration with the older woman rising.
"Oh Martha, nothing. Just because Elsie isn't getting any –"
"Aren't getting any what?" Becky asked in all her innocence.
Both Martha and Elsie looked over at Becky, having almost forgotten she and Violet were there in the room with them. "Never mind, Becky," the two said simultaneously.
"Look, Martha. Need I remind you that your name is written on the neckline of this nightie for a reason, specifically that you reside in an assisted living center for mature adults where the laundry often gets lost despite such preventative efforts. I saw no reason in the store last week nor here today why anyone who has their name written on their clothing so it isn't lost would need anything beyond functional in the way of sleepwear. Now, I'm going to put this in the bedroom, you can wear it or not." Elsie stormed through the bedroom door and tossed the nightie toward the bed. When it fell off the edge onto the floor, Elsie stepped over picked it up, and placed it fully on the bed near the nightstand. As she turned, her eye was caught by three condom pack singles – and her chin just dropped. She stood motionless for a moment, before backing out into the other room.
Taking a deep breath and choosing her words carefully, Elsie pressed her lips together and squinted hard at Martha before asking, "Martha, why do you have…sheathes…on your nightstand?"
Martha looked up at her, then back down at Violet whom she was petting, "Listen, just because you aren't getting any, doesn't mean the rest of us –"
"Not getting any what!" Becky demanded to know, louder this time.
Elsie rolled her eyes and replied, "I'm sorry Becky, it's just one of those things that you wouldn't understand and therefore is not important." Seeing Becky's disappointment, Elsie continued in a more uplifting fashion, "But you know what is important that you can help us with? Be a dear and get out a bowl and spoon and bread plate for Martha so that when we leave, she's all set for her supper." That pleased Becky who got up and headed to the kitchenette.
Just above a whisper now, Elsie continued, "Martha, it is my understanding that assisted living environments like this one have become one of the most prominent locations for STDs."
"Yes, you're right, which is why they give out…condoms…to everyone."
"What do you mean give them out?" There was no end to Elsie's shock.
"Exactly what I said, everyone gets two per week. If you don't use them, policy is to put them back, discretely, in collection bins in the public toilets. If you need more, you take them from there. I'm telling you, there's a lot more of us in and out of there than before."
Holding up her hand signaling for Martha to stop, Elsie cut her off from sharing more on the topic.
Soon, they were back to discussing Elsie's overloaded schedule, and lack of a date tonight.
"And I'm willing to bet you don't have one tomorrow, either. What are you doing with your Saturday, you should incorporate some fun into your life," Martha's lecturing continued.
"As a matter of fact, I have an appointment to get my hair cut that I'm looking forward to as my stylist has been away on maternity leave. You remember my mentioning her, Anna, she and her husband are also my next door neighbours to the north. And then I have to figure out what I'm going to wear to an anniversary brunch on Sunday, thank you very much."
"Oh, whose anniversary?"
"You know one of the grooms, Thomas Barrow, remember? I officiated at the wedding last year."
"Oh, yes, I remember you telling me. I would have loved to officiate at a client's wedding – your wedding in particular."
"Enough Martha."
"Elsie, you're such a curmudgeon."
"Only with you Martha, only with you."
Just then an elderly gentleman appeared at Martha's door, knocking and asking, "May I come in?"
All turned in the direction of the door.
"Of course, Gareth. This is a wonderful opportunity for me to introduce you to my dear friends, the darling Miss Becky Hughes and her service dog Violet, and this curmudgeonly beauty is, my professional protégé and personal executor, Ms. Elsie Hughes. Ladies, this is my new friend Gareth Breedlove, from down the hall." Martha waggled her eyebrows so only Elsie could see.
"Pleasure to meet you all, ladies. Martha, I came to take you down to supper."
"Likewise, Mr. Breedlove. We brought some stew and biscuits for Martha to enjoy, herself, and Becky has just set the table for her, as you can see."
"Oh, Elsie, the stew sounds delightful, but I think I'll save that for a midnight snack or lunch tomorrow. Gareth isn't one to buy green bananas anymore, you know?"
Elsie was so confused and didn't want to stay to sort it out, "Okay, I don't know what all that means, I mean, I know what it means on one level, but something tells me there's more to it and I'm just not interested in hearing it. So, in light of tonight's welcome reception and my dear sister who is anxious to tune into an animated, talking bear this evening, I think we'll be leaving. Martha, see you next week."
"After the wedding! I want a full report, bring a few pictures. And Elsie, by all means, wear something with a little style, a little show; you never know who you'll meet at a party!"
Elsie turned from the door and sighed back at Martha, her mentor, "Martha, everyone who was at the wedding last year was either married or gay, or both. Odds are against me."
"Oh, odds, shmodds. Keep you eyes open, Elsie, all you need to find is one, right?"
"The right one."