The Far Side Banks of Jordan.........Trigger Warning. Goto page 1, 2, 3Next
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MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
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Location: I come from a land downunder
The Far Side Banks of Jordan.........Trigger Warning.
OK, finally a new story from me but I will explain that it is nothing like the romance novels I have posted so far It is written on the day the central character plans to end her own life, so if this is likely to upset anyone, then it is best if you dont read it. Thanks all.
THE FAR SIDE BANKS OF JORDAN
“Hey, baby girl…look over here!”
Nerelda Davis turned her head toward the voice, and then groaned as Patti took yet another photo of her.
“Sheesh babe, can you lay off with the picture taking for a while?” she complained affectionately “You must have used half a roll already just here. I think it’s time you progressed from the dark ages and bought a digital camera to save on processing costs.”
She smiled at the solid, grey-haired woman standing below her at the edge of a creek which was filled and foaming from snow melt in the mountains further upstream. Even in early April there was still plenty of ground snow here in the foothills of the Californian Sierra Nevadas, and to Nerelda, who had lived her whole life on the hot, flat west coast of Australia, snow was still a thing of wonder.
“Stop prowling around down there woman,” she called. “Come and sit up here with me and just enjoy it for a while.”
“I am enjoying it.” Patti retorted. “I’m enjoying watching you enjoy it.”
Nevertheless, as requested, she climbed up to the broad rock shelf where Nerelda was sitting and perched beside her. They sat in companionable silence for a long time, Patti’s arm around her shoulders, Nerelda’s hand resting on her lover’s Levi- clad thigh. The sky stretching above them was the palest blue with just the occasional little fluff of a white cloud floating past and a soft breeze was sighing through the branches of the green pines surrounding them. Nerelda drew in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air and sighed contentedly.
“This is just the most beautiful, peaceful place,” she said. “Thank you so much for bringing me here babe.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Patti replied and lightly kissed the top of Nerelda’s head. “We really have had a good morning so f...
“Good morning Missus, time to rise and shine. It’s another beautiful day outside.”
The cheerful voice of the Filipino care aide, and the rattle of a teacup being placed on her bedside table, dragged Nerelda up from the depths of a dream she had been enjoying. There was no chance of a quiet sleep-in at the Riverview Nursing Home; already the curtains of her room were being flung aside and she screwed her eyes tightly shut against the bright December sunshine that flooded in, bringing with it the promise of another hot day ahead.
“Come on then Missus, open your eyes and sit up. We don’t want our tea to get cold now do we?’ chided Florita, her brown face creased with impatience.
Well, Nerelda thought uncharitably, if it’s our tea, why don’t you help drink it and I’ll have a bit more sleep. But then, as quickly as the thought crossed her mind, she felt guilty. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. There were fifteen semi-care rooms on this floor alone and the aide was expected to deliver the hot drinks and ensure that each of the residents was awake in less than twenty minutes.
“It’s all right, Florita, I am getting up now,” Nerelda promised, with at attempt at a placating smile, though under the bedclothes her gnarled, bony fingers were crossed. “I’ll drink the tea in a minute when it cools down. You get along now, don’t keep the others waiting.”
As soon as the aide had bustled from the room Nerelda settled her head back on the pillow and, shutting her eyes, she tried desperately to call back the images that had transported her through time and space the previous night. Back to her awakening, back to the year of magic, back to Patti. But dreams are an elusive commodity and will not answer to our beck and call. Eventually Nerelda grew frustrated with her efforts and opened her eyes to stare at the institutional white ceiling above her. At least today she knew where she had been in her dream, unlike other mornings when she woke, sometimes smiling, sometimes sad, and clutched at fragments of recollections that melted away like will-o-the-wisps. Last evening, before the lights were turned out, she had been studying the one dog-eared photograph still left to her from those days. Nerelda slid her hand under the pillow and brought out the photo, examining it as carefully as if seeing it for the first time.
It was the last one Patti had taken that day and showed herself, sitting on a broad rock beside the stream. She touched a shaking finger to her hair in the photo: at the time she was still having it coloured regularly, varying shades of light brown and blonde, and she looked younger than her fifty four years. How silly, she thought, that back then I was actually worried about being too old to begin a new life. She wondered if it would have made a difference to her outlook on a lot of things if she had known there was still so much of her life’s journey to travel. She had met Patti for the first time in Las Vegas, less than a week before this photo was taken and they had divided her pitifully short eleven day trip between that city and Patti’s home in a small town north of Sacramento. Some thirty five years later she could still recall the beauty of that place, and the simple joy they had found in being there together.
The rattle of Florita’s tea trolley intruded on Nerelda’s reverie and she rebuked herself silently; today was not a day she wished to call attention to herself in any way. Today she must be just another invisible old lady – amenable, quiescent, and harmless. She propped herself upright against the pillows and gulped down the now tepid liquid just before Florita barrelled briskly through the door.
Nerelda gave her a little wave. “Lovely, thank you dear. You may take the cup away now if you like.”
“Are you going to need any help with showering this morning, Missus? I hear’d from Joy who was on last week that you is managing pretty good now.”
Florita’s enquiry was less a question, more of a statement and Nerelda was well aware she was expected to answer in the negative. It has been three months now since The Fall. Nerelda always capitalized the words in her head. To say she had ‘a fall’ seemed so unimportant, so small, and so insignificant for an event that had radically changed her everyday existence. Just one tiny slip on a moss-covered brick in the courtyard of the unit she had occupied for the past thirty years and her independent life had been ripped away from her. It must have rained ever so lightly during the night but she hadn’t noticed the pavers were wet: too busy concentrating on the mug of coffee she had carried in her right hand and not dropping the newspaper held in her left. The fall had broken her hip - along with her spirit - and although the medicos had pronounced their efforts in pining and plating the first break a success, there had been no procedure offered for the second.
“Of course I can manage by myself dear. It just takes time but then, I’ve got a lot of that commodity, haven’t I?” She laughed softly and Florita joined in.
“That’s for sure Missus, you take all the time you need. I’ll be by with your breakfast in about an hour, but you can always ring the bell if you need help.”
Florita smiled as she left the room, she was grateful for the old lady’s stubborn independence. Having one less person to shower would make a big difference to her morning schedule: always there was too much to be done and never enough time in which to do it. Huge numbers of immigrants from the Philippines, and other surrounding Asian countries, had been brought to Australia to work in the constantly expanding care industry. The baby-boomer generation were aging and requiring care at an ever increasing rate. It was the longevity of this generation that had caught the government by surprise. Back in 2007, when the first of the wave of people born directly after WW11 had begun to turn sixty, the statisticians had estimated fairly accurately what percentage of the population they would comprise when they reached the average life span, then eighty three for men and eighty eight for women. But the baby boomers had always been the rule-breakers and now, in 2042, huge numbers of them were living on well into their nineties and beyond. The greeting card companies were able to capitalize and launch an entire new range of cards for 100th birthdays as their customers complained there wasn’t enough variety.
Until The Fall Nerelda had tried not to dwell on her age but, if she could take one positive from the injury, it had saved her the awkwardness of a family celebration for her ninetieth birthday, some two months ago. Ninety, she thought bemusedly, no one expects to reach that age and yet here it was, staring her in the face every morning when she brushed her teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. Her own mother had lived to be ninety five and her mother’s grandmother to ninety eight, so it was clearly in her genes. She had no idea how her great-grandmother had managed towards the end, for she had been estranged from her family and lived in another State, but she remembered her mother’s slow decline and death vividly. It had imbued in Nerelda a passionate intention to never find herself in that position – so physically frail that her whole life depended on the kindness of family and eventually, the impersonal ministrations of strangers. She had always intended to go out on her own terms, in her own home and at a time of her choosing. But one moment’s inattention had put paid to her plans and, she thought ruefully, here she was trapped in exactly the hell she had so carefully plotted to avoid. But not for much longer, she whispered quietly to herself, not long now.
Getting to her feet was such a production and it took several breathless minutes before she was standing beside the bed, tightly gripping the arms of her walking frame. It is the only machine with wheels they will let me drive now I suppose, she thought glumly. Nerelda was well aware she probably would not have passed the drivers licence check which had been due on her birthday, but she had bitterly resented her son voluntarily surrendering her licence, without consulting with her first.
“Kids!” she muttered crossly as she shuffled slowly into the bathroom, oblivious to the irony that her sons were now men in their late fifties and early sixties. They thought they knew it all, when in fact they had never been privy to the most central part of who she was. Once she had returned to Australia and Patti was gone, well, there just hadn’t seemed to be any point and, as the years rolled by, her longing for them to know the authenticity of the woman behind her mask had lessened.
Chapter 2
Getting showered and dressed for the day took Nerelda the whole hour before breakfast was delivered. Normally the snails pace to which her life had been reduced irritated her immensely but today there was a quiet resignation to all she did.
“Look at you missus, all clean and beautiful.” Florita beamed cheerfully as placed the breakfast tray on Nerelda’s table. “That’s a pretty shirt you’re wearing. You must be expecting some visitors today for sure.”
“Yes.” Nerelda agreed mildly. “I’m going out for the day.” Keep it as simple and truthful as possible, she thought, if they expect me to be late back from an excursion they will be less inclined to raise an immediate alarm about an empty bed.
“Is that handsome grandson of yours coming to get you Missus? He sure is a looker that boy, I never saw such blue eyes as he got.” Florita chirped on happily as she tidied the bathroom and collected the used towels. “Where he get those eyes from – his mama or his daddy?” She looked quizzically into Nerelda’s face. “Not from you Missus, you and me we got eyes as brown as any ol’ cow.” She laughed good-naturedly at her own observation and Nerelda smiled with her.
“That is certainly true.” she agreed. “Reilly gets his eye colour from his dad, my son, Cameron. In turn, Cam and his younger brother, Matthew, have the same blue eyes as their father, my late ex-husband. Only my eldest son, Jamie, has, I mean had, brown eyes like mine.”
Florita had picked up on Nerelda’s use of the past tense when she spoke of Jamie and asked diffidently. “That oldest boy you mentioned, he no longer with you Missus then? I only see Mr. Cameron and Mr Matthew come to visit when you first come in here”.
“No, Jamie passed on some years ago.” Her voice quavered and Nerelda was surprised at how easily the tears still rushed to her eyes when she spoke about her first-born. Eight years had gone by since he had left this world, a sudden massive heart attack which hadn’t given anyone a chance to say goodbye. It still felt so wrong, no parent expects to outlive their child and although she had worried about his heavy drinking and poor eating habits for a long time, still Nerelda had never expected he would die before her. They had all been young adults and out of home the year she had taken off to the USA to live with Patti. Her entire family had viewed her unexpected disappearance, and then return a year later, as a menopausal episode which was never referred to again. Although it had initially grieved her that she had waited so long to find her true self, she had come to accept the timing as providential. Had it occurred when her children were smaller, and dependent on her, she would never have been able to leave them. Early on she had decided that it would only be necessary to come out to her children if, or when, someone special again entered her life. There had been a few romances here and there but no one person had impacted her life and heart as Patti had. It had actually been surprisingly simple to keep both parts of her life separate, Nerelda mused: no one questioned her belonging to women only walking groups or going to movies or dances with a woman friend. People and your own children especially, seemed to think you were asexual once you reached middle age and it was easier to just let them have their assumptions.
Noticing that the old lady had slipped away into her own thoughts, Florita quietly left the room. Man oh man, she thought to herself, one minute they are right there with you and the next they are off in lala land. She had long ago decided that it was best just to leave them there when that happened. They was probably happier that way, she concluded
Back in her room Nerelda opened her eyes and swiftly pocketed the two strong pain pills that arrived with her breakfast tray and discarded the diuretic tablet. The aide was expected to watch a patient take their medications but Nerelda has long perfected a variety of distractions that had allowed her to build a varied stash of pharmaceuticals. She had absolutely no intention of living what years were left to her in care and today, at last, it was time. Sundays were the quietest days here at Riverview, an aged care facility on the banks of the Swan River in Perth, the capital city of Western Australia. There were no doctors, occupational therapists or physios visiting, no x-ray or scan technicians on duty, so therefore the ratio of carers to patients was lower than usual. It was true there were more visitors but Nerelda had long since realised that they were of no consequence, Unaware of routines or regulations they saw only the relative or friend they came to visit and paid little attention to anything or anyone else. And to tell the truth, Nerelda reflected sadly, a lot of patients had precious few visitors. The pace of life was so horrendous and families were chasing their tails to make mortgage payments, sometimes working six or seven days a week. It amused Nerelda no end that with all the amazing communication gadgets that even two year olds seemed able to operate, the time available to actually see people face to face was close to non existent. She had ascertained during the week that neither of her sons, their partners or any of her three grandchildren would be visiting today. A lesser woman would have stumbled over those last casual goodbyes she had said to each of them over the past few weeks; betrayed by a crack in her voice, a tear in her eye, an unusually emotional hug. But her resolve had never wavered. Nerelda told herself she was doing it as much for them as herself, saving them the pain of watching a loved one disintegrate little by little in front of their eyes, as she had had to endure with her own mother. They would be sad for a little while, she knew, but it was the way of life, the old moving over to make way for the next generations. And Nerelda was ready, eager even, to make that transition even though she had never been sure what would happen on the other side – or even if there was another side. It was a journey she would have to take before long anyway and she was determined to make it while she still had all her faculties.
Patti, she recalled, had certainly believed in an after-life. She had been thirteen years Nerelda’s senior and, during their year together, had been adamant about discussing what was to happen when, if life went as expected, she passed on before Nerelda. Patti had been as straight-forward and non-emotional about it as she was regarding everything else in her life. It was the way things were and there was no use getting bent out of shape about it, she would opine. With almost no effort Nerelda could call her husky voice to mind. “Baby girl” she would say. “I cannot believe we were brought together by mere chance. So few people are ever allowed the love and joy we have found and I’m damned if anything as inconsequential as dying is going to do more than temporarily interrupt that.” Then she would give that gorgeous deep sexy chuckle that would instantly melt Nerelda’s insides and start her pulse hammering wildly. “So, don’t you cry for me when I’m gone, you just live your life and remember I’ll be waiting for you on the other side. It’s never going to be goodbye, just adios for a little while.”
But the truth was they had been interrupted – cruelly and dispassionately by the pitiless bureaucracy that had been the then American Immigration service. Back in 2007 there were still only five of the US states that allowed gay marriage for citizens and bi-national couples, like her and Patti, might as well not have existed for the purpose of immigration. They had fought the system and they had lost. And eventually the relationship had been lost too. Patti had been a hard headed realist and saw no point in continuing the agonies that they both suffered when apart. She had cut quickly and cleanly, severing all forms of communication between them until finally Nerelda had to admit it was over. Through a friend of Patti’s, with whom she had kept sporadic contact, she had learned of her ex-lover’s death some fifteen years ago and a part of her had died that day. But her own health had still been robust then and the love of her three grand children had given her a reason to keep going. There were no reasons left now. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Wed May 04, 2011 8:29 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Chapter 3
With a huge effort Nerelda dragged her thoughts back to the present. Damn it, she ought to know better than to allow the indulgence of reminisces just now. Later, she told herself, later, when she was somewhere peaceful and safe she could dream to her heart’s content. She ate a small amount of breakfast, remembering the research she had done on the web a few weeks ago These days wireless internet was available free to all senior citizens; you simple logged on with your Pensioner Identification No. wherever you were. Cameron had been pleased when she had requested he bring in her ancient notebook, seeing it as a positive sign in her recovery process. Nerelda’s dry sense of humour had been tickled by the realisation that she only truly began to strive to get better after she had made the decision that she was going to leave this life. The increase in the numbers of people living into advanced old age had precipitated a matching increase in the number of sites dedicated to euthanasia and Nerelda had done her homework studiously. A totally empty stomach would almost guarantee that she would throw up the large does of medication she intended to ingest over the next few hours.
Almost as a casual afterthought, she took four tablets from a secret pocket in her shower bag and swallowed them down with the last of the orange juice. Well, old girl, she thought briskly, it’s time to get this show on the road. Every room was directly linked to the central nursing station via a screen that was easily accessed from the bed and she touched the appropriate button, waiting only a few seconds before the face of the weekend nursing co-ordinator appeared.
“Good morning, Ms. Davis. What can we do for you?” she asked briskly.
Her tone was impersonal and somewhat bored. Nerelda had already ascertained that Mariel Beckman only worked weekends because of the higher pay rate it garnered whilst she put herself through university, hoping to eventually move into health administration and away from the tedium of actually caring for a ward of old people.
“I’m very well Nurse Beckman.” Nerelda chirped in her best happy voice. “I was hoping one of the aides could bring a wheelchair to my room and take me to the front garden. I will be going out for the day soon and it would be nice to have some fresh air before the long drive. And I just wanted to remind everyone that I won’t be here for lunch.” She allowed her voice to become a little fluttery and uncertain as she continued. “I filled in all the forms earlier in the week. At least I think I...”
“Yes, yes, Ms. Davis” The nurse cut in impatiently, calling up details on a screen in front of her. “It’s all been arranged, so don’t worry.” Good grief Mariel sighed quietly to herself. Let these oldies start and next thing she would hear every bloody detail of the visit, who was coming to pick her up plus the names of all the grandchildren. They just went on and on. Quickly she ascertained the location of the nearest aide and buzzed his com-link to request a wheel chair to be brought as soon as possible.
“There you are Ms. Davis, all arranged. Have a lovely day.”
The sentiment was so devoid of warmth that Nerelda had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself suggesting that nurse Beckman got laid, or something equally exciting, just so she might actually feel something. But she held her tongue and calmly re-inspected the contents of the large handbag sitting on the bed beside her. No point in antagonizing the woman when after today she would never have to deal with Boring Beckman again.
“Hello there Missus, I bring your wheelchair.”
The young Asian boy who stood in the doorway was another university student working weekends to pay his way. Nerelda had read recently that there were more overseas students in the education system than there were local born Australians. The sudden spike in the birth rate in the early part of this century had been the product of Generations X and Y suddenly realising in their thirties that they had forgotten to have children. But it hadn’t lasted and the number of births was soon falling again. The fact that the population was increasing minutely each year was due firstly to immigration, and mostly because the baby-boomers stubbornly refused to die. So much for their teenaged anthem of rebellion, My Generation, with its famous line ‘Hope I die before I get old!’
“Thank you very much,” Nerelda said. “Could you please bring it a little closer to the bed? And I need to take my walking stick too, young man.”
She submitted meekly to being helped into the chair and the aide slotted the stick into a bracket on the side. Everything took so much effort, she thought wearily as they rolled smoothly down the white tiled corridors. It took every scrap of energy she could muster each day just to get bathed, fed and to do some basic strengthening exercises. She no longer had a life, she just existed. Before The Fall her life may have been quiet, but it was hers, she reflected. She got up when she wanted to, whether it was at five am or midday. Likewise bedtime was of her choosing, some days she could barely stay awake through her dinner and other nights, especially if she had napped in the afternoon, she could still be awake and reading at midnight. Despite her family’s continued exhortations to let them take over any chores that required driving, Nerelda had cherished the independence her little car brought and had enjoyed being able to make her own way to the quiet local shopping centre and the freedom to choose her own foodstuffs. Quite a few of her friends had still been living independently and they had taken turns to arrange coffee or lunch dates. Life may have been quiet but it had still been enjoyable. Now it was just endured.
“Where outside do you wish to go Missus?” enquired the young aide politely, snapping Nerelda back out of her private thoughts. Goddamn it, she thought crossly, I was wandering again, I absolutely must keep things together.
“If you could please take me to the rose garden, that would be so very much appreciated.” Nerelda replied.
Riverview’s positioning, between a main highway and the river, allowed for a fairly extensive outside garden area which was unusual in this era of severe water restrictions. Several large gum trees provided shade for four circles of rose bushes of ever decreasing size and in the centre of the innermost circle was a small paved area, a patch of grass and several stone benches. Nerelda had spied out this little retreat when Reilly had taken her for a walk in the grounds some time back and she had noted it was completely sheltered from the view of anyone either in the building or on the main paths of the complex. Since then she had made a habit of requesting to be taken there most days, establishing a pattern, and using the time to ascertain how popular this place was with other patients and staff. During the week it was frequently used for staff to eat their lunches and less occasionally, by patients. Weekends were much quieter as a proportion of patients were away from the home for the day and staff on duty were required to stay inside the building during mealtimes, owing to their reduced numbers. The boy arranged her chair in the shade and made sure the brakes were fully applied.
“Are you sure you will be alright here alone Missus,” he enquired politely. “How will you know when your lift has arrived?”
“Err, oh, I will be fine, thank you. My, um, son will ring me when he arrives,” Nerelda stammered, having to think quickly and patting her handbag to give the impression that her mobile was safe within. In fact the phone was turned off and tucked away in the back of the bedside table drawer. They were not allowed to have them switched on inside their rooms anyway; the signals interfered with the bank of communication and medical equipment in use. “He knows I will be here and will come and retrieve me, so don’t you worry. Off you go back to the building or you will have Boring Beckman on your tail.” His concerns abated as they shared a conspiratorial laugh over her reference to the commonly used nickname and then, suitably mollified, he turned and strode back through the garden.
As soon as he was out of sight Nerelda opened her handbag and pulled out a bottle of water which she used to take another four tablets. Already she realised that the whole process was going to be somewhat of a balancing act: she needed to drink enough liquid to ensure she didn’t gag on this many tablets but, at the same time, limit her intake of fluids so she didn’t need a bathroom visit. Tricky, but doable she thought. From her reading she had realised that the mistake a lot of people made was in swallowing too much medication, too quickly. Quite often the body simply revolted and threw up the stomach contents before they were digested enough to enter the bloodstream in any great amounts. It irked her tremendously that all this subterfuge was necessary. Why the hell couldn’t people of sane mind just opt out with a simple, dignified injection, she wondered? She was so tired of living. The pain she felt every day was just as real as if she were suffering from a terminal illness and these days it was considered merciful to help patients on their way in those instances. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Thu May 05, 2011 11:43 pm
MdmPrez
Joined: 16 Oct 2007
Posts: 803
Location: US of A
Noni
Well, a long-awaited piece from you, but well worth the wait.
You are one terrific writer. I love your command of the language.
Your story, while quite sad, is believable. It flows wonderfully.
I look forward to the continuation.
Cat
Fri May 06, 2011 12:38 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Cat, how good you are to me. Im finding this one hard to write but it needs to be done. Thank you for making an effort to always follow my stories.
HugZ, MG _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Fri May 06, 2011 12:36 pm
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Chapter 4
“Wait for me Tyler, wait for me!”
Her train of thought was abruptly terminated by the shrill shouting of a small boy who raced into the clearing close on the heels of another about the same size.
“I won Charlie!”
“No, not fair Ty, you cheated, you didn’t go round the last circle.”
“Did so!”
“Did not!”
“Did!’
“Didn’t!”
The back and forth arguing became pushing, pushing became shoving and within thirty seconds all out war had been declared. Nerelda watched amused as the two boys wrestled and yelled on the grass. They couldn’t have been more than five or six she surmised and the physicality of their argument recalled what it had been like when her own sons were similar ages, only in her case there had been three of them. Small boys, then and now, had always reminded Nerelda of puppies – they romped in the dirt, ran themselves ragged, fought with their litter mates, gobbled their food and then all fell into a smelly heap at the end of the day and slept.
“Tyler, Charlie, stop that now!”
A young woman arrived panting in the clearing, her flushed face and breathlessness indicated she had been chasing this pair for some distance. She was too busy at first, separating the pint-sized antagonists, to notice Nerelda in her chair under the tree and when she did, the blush on her cheeks grew even pinker.
“Oh, I’m so sorry if the boys have been disturbing you. We were racing and they got a little ahead of me…” she paused then laughed. “Well, obviously a lot ahead of me. Hospital visiting is a bit dreary for little ones and we came outside to play.”
She walked across to where Nerelda sat, keeping a firm hold on one hand of each of the miscreants as if she feared they would bolt again .Her skin was tanned and her blonde hair cut short, shorter in fact than the either of the boys who both possessed a head of dark corkscrew curls which tumbled uncontrollably into their eyes and straggled down over the collars of their blue t shirts. All three were wearing denim shorts and their bare feet indicated there was probably a little pile of shoes or thongs to collect somewhere back at the starting point of the race.
“Hello, I’m Kyra James and these two little terrors are my partner’s children, Tyler and Charlie.” The blonde girl held out her hand and Nerelda shook it firmly, noting the slight calluses on the palm and closely trimmed nails that spoke of a physical job.
“I’m pleased to meet you Kyra. Nerelda Davis. And the children were not disturbing me at all. They were just being boys. Believe me I know, I had three of my own to deal with.” She smiled at the two boys who were still red-faced and puffing from their little stoush. “Hello Tyler, hello Charlie. That was very impressive running and even better wrestling. You two must have some mighty strong muscles.”
“We do, we do. Look at our muscles!” they chorused in unison. Of course nothing would do then but they each demonstrated the excellence of their muscles with another race around the outside of the rose garden. Nerelda diplomatically called the result a dead heat and also adjudged that although Tyler had won the first race, Charlie had most certainly had the upper hand in the wrestling match, so they were completely even overall. This had the desired effect of satisfying their budding male egos and they were quite content to sit in the shade and eat a picnic lunch which Kyra produced from her backpack.
“Thanks ever so much, Mrs. Davis I find little boys a bit of an alien species at times,” she whispered shamefacedly to Nerelda. “They are so active and physical, and so, well…” She paused and Nerelda gave her a conspiratorial grin and finished the sentence.
“I think ‘male’ is the word you were looking for dear,” she commented dryly. “And it’s Ms Davis, but please, call me Nerelda. I found it hard enough to understand my own sons so I’m sure helping to raise someone else’s boys is quite a challenge. If it isn’t too much of a personal question may I ask how long you have been with their father?”
Nerelda’s eyes were still sharp enough to catch the quick play of emotions across Kyra’s face, not did she miss the defensive tightening of her body posture. Still the girl replied quite calmly with only the slightest of hesitations.
“I’m not with the boy’s father. Their mother, Jessie, is my partner. We’ve only been together six months so my relationship with Tyler and Charlie is still a bit new and tenuous.”
She held Nerelda’s gaze with clear blue eyes that dared her to have a problem with that information but her face relaxed as she saw nothing but genuine warmth on the old lady’s face.
“Then you really do have your work cut out for you, young lady,” Nerelda responded. “I can imagine it’s quite a tightrope act balancing your needs, her needs and the children’s needs all mixed in together. You will need all your strength and your wisdom to get it right.”
Kyra reached out and shyly touched Nerelda’s arm. “Thank you for looking at it from my point of view,” she exclaimed delightedly. “Do you know you are the first person who has put it that way since Jessie and I got together? Either my friends think I am crazy to take on two kids or else they think it’s like gaining an instant family without any effort.”
“Any new relationship is hard work,” Nerelda answered firmly. “And taking on two children, as well as their mother, makes it doubly hard. It makes me tired just thinking about it. All I can think is dear, this woman of yours? Well she must be worth it.”
Kyra’s face softened and her eyes shone as she replied. “Oh, she is, believe me she is. Jessie is everything to me and I am going to do my utmost to make this work. I would crawl across broken glass for her, not” she added almost apologetically, “that I expect you to understand that.”
Nerelda patted Kyra’s shoulder. “Oh, I understand all too well, dear. Why is it that each generation thinks that they alone have invented sex and love?” She asked the question teasingly but quietly, almost as if speaking to herself and not to her companion. Kyra glanced up quizzically, noting the far away look in the old lady’s eyes and the single tear slipping quietly down her wrinkled face. Nerelda was remembering a time when she also would have endured the broken glass path, a time when she literally had given up everything to make a go of her fledgling relationship with Patti. Her family, her friends, her job, her pets, her country – everything she had held dear.
They had met online and fallen in love initially without as much as hearing the sound of the others voice, long before the first tentative exchange of photos. In fact, Nerelda reflected, she used to tease Patti that she fell in love with her words on a screen and it was pretty much true. They had both been a part of a forum for a sport that Patti had played and of which Nerelda was a fan. Many years before Patti had visited Australia with her team and fallen in love with the country and, as Nerelda was the only Australian on the board, they were soon chatting in private emails. Nerelda was hopelessly in thrall with the dry humour, the sharp wit and the obvious intelligence of the postings that arrived in her email box every day. Patti’s admission that she was a lesbian came fairly early in the relationship. Nerelda’s mouth curved in a slow smile as she remembered another of Patti’s stock phrases, I’m gay, always have been, always will be! It had been her own reaction to that piece of information that had blown Nerelda’s world apart; a world that at that time consisted of a straight marriage of over thirty years, the house in suburbia, a dog, a cat and three adult kids. The intensity of her desire for Patti was as equally thrilling as it was terrifying and impossible to keep for very long under the guise of a casual email pen pal. Admittedly she had known for a long time that she had the capacity to be attracted to other women sexually, after falling hard for her then best friend at age thirty seven. But with small children to raise, and knowing literally nothing about woman to woman love, what could she have done? Terrified of these new feelings Nerelda had pushed them far away, stuffed them down into the depths of her being and simply went on with life. Until Patti. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Fri May 06, 2011 12:37 pm
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Chapter 5
“Ms Davis, umm, Nerelda, are you okay? Jessie’s here now and we have to go.”
Nerelda’s head jerked up from her chest where it had settled as she again lost herself in memories of times past. It took a second or two to clear her mind and recall who this young woman kneeling in front of her actually was. It was the pills, she realised, she had taken enough already to make her slightly fuzzy-headed.
“Oh, I’m fine dear, honestly,” she replied with an embarrassed little laugh. “At my age you tend to drift off so easily. I have dozens of little nanna naps all day, it’s nothing to worry about.”
Kyra didn’t look convinced. “Look, we have to go now but could we push you back to the main building? It would definitely be past lunch-time up there and I would hate you to miss out. Hey Jessie?” She called over her shoulder to the dark haired woman who was supervising Tyler and Charlie putting on the shoes that she must have collected along the way. “Didn’t you say they were bringing your granddad’s meal when you left him?”
”Yep, that’s right, he was hoeing into it before I had even reached the door,” her partner replied, as she and the boys walked across to where Nerelda and Kyra were seated. Kyra made the introductions.
“Ms Davis, this is my partner, Jessie Duncan. Jess, this is Nerelda. We were having a little chat about the basics of raising small boys.”
Nerelda saw the unspoken communication that passed between the two of them when Kyra used the word ‘partner’. Relax, it said, she’s all right, we can be ourselves. It was so sad, she thought crossly. that even in the middle of the twenty first century, gay people still had to be cautious about revealing their status. She shook hands with Jessie and explained her ‘puppy’ theory regarding small boys and was rewarded with a burst of hearty laughter from Jess who admitted that she sometimes locked them outside with a ball just to get ten minutes peace.
“I seem to recall doing the very same thing,” Nerelda answered. “Now, please don’t worry about me. I’m waiting for my son to pick me up and we will have a late lunch at his house. Off you go, I know how busy life is these days for young families.” She was impatient now for them to leave: her carefully crafted plan was becoming derailed by interruptions and her tendency to slip off into daydreams. Thankfully her explanation seemed to appease them and after a sweaty hug from Charlie they disappeared through the gap at the end of the rose garden amidst a chorus of goodbyes
“Delightful children,” she muttered, lumping the girls into the same category as their sons. Anyone under thirty five seemed so young to Nerelda these days. Indeed, even society’s definitions of ‘adolescence’, ‘young adulthood’, ‘middle age’ and ‘elderly’ had lately been undergoing serious revision as living into your nineties and beyond became the norm, rather than the exception. Swallowing another two tablets, Nerelda sniffed incredulously to remember how she had practically been considered an old maid when she married at the age of twenty three. Now days if the kids even got married, it was rarely before thirty and women becoming pregnant into their forties was commonplace. She had met her son’s father when she was only eighteen but it had taken them five years to tie the knot and another four years before their first son was born. Had she subconsciously known about her own sexuality even back then, she wondered? It was an old question that Nerelda had returned to over and over but never had she arrived at a definitive answer. As the old axiom stated, hindsight is twenty-twenty. She had never hated sex with him but always there seemed to be something missing, some elusive element that if found, would change the act of lovemaking from ‘is that all there is?’ to ‘oh my god!’
And it had come, she thought, the first time she had made love to Patti. By the time she had arrived in Las Vegas, following a twenty nine hour journey, she had been so exhausted just holding her head upright had seemed an impossible task. She could remember laying it down on the check-in desk and wishing she could doze off right there. And overlaying the exhaustion was a nervousness that was making it almost impossible to breathe. Here she was, a supposedly straight woman in her mid-fifties, flying half way around the world to be with another woman she had never even set eyes on. What had she been thinking? Every last nerve, every doubt, every worry had simply flown away the moment Patti had stepped into their hotel room, smiled and said simply, hello love. Sitting here, in the Australian sun some thirty five years later, Nerelda could still feel the mixture of butterflies and joy that had taken up residence inside her when she had first looked into those clear blue eyes. It had been so easy to lift her face for that first kiss and even easier to later slide beneath the sheets and into Patti’s waiting arms. Not for one second had she felt awkward or out of place, rather her whole mind and body were filled with the glorious realisation that this was where she was meant to be. In simple terms, it had felt like coming home. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Wed May 11, 2011 12:00 am
MdmPrez
Joined: 16 Oct 2007
Posts: 803
Location: US of A
MG
Don't do it!
Cat
Fri May 13, 2011 2:08 am
aidyl
Joined: 11 Nov 2007
Posts: 173
Location: Trinidad
It is good to see you back with a new story Mystery. I am already caught up in the possible directions the story can take. I feel sad for the elderly lady as i have an elderly lady friend myself who is in her late 80's, living alone but may be placed in a home because her relatives are 'concerned' about her living on her own. Old age can be depressing when there are no loved ones around who really care about you.
I hope the suicide does not work but as she has already ingested pills it does not look too good for her.
Maybe the two new young woman can somhow become a ray of light in her world and spark a desire to live a little longer.
Fri May 13, 2011 3:36 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Nice to see that someone is reading along. TY Cat and Aidyl.
But as regards your comment.....I guess the story will write itself as it is meant to be.
HugZ, MG _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Fri May 13, 2011 9:47 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Chapter 6
The splash of one single teardrop on the back of Nerelda’s hand roused her from her reverie. How long had she sat here dreaming she wondered? The position of the sun told her it was long after midday, way past the time she had intended to leave this clearing
“For goodness sake, you stupid old woman, can’t you do anything right?” She berated herself fiercely aloud for not adhering strictly to the detailed plan in her head. If any of the staff members stumbled upon her now it would be impossible to keep up the pretence of waiting for her son to arrive. Her purse had long straps that enabled it to be worn as a backpack but it took her several minutes to work it into place on her back. Desperation gave her the strength to pull herself awkwardly from the chair and sheer determination allowed her to manoeuvre into place behind its handles. Nerelda hung onto the rubber grips tightly till her head stopped swimming then leaned forward carefully and released the brakes, allowing the wheelchair to move slowly down the slight grass incline and onto the path.
“That’s better, just take it slow and steady” she muttered crossly, still angry with herself for the delay. There had been no opportunity beforehand to practice walking behind the wheelchair but commonsense had told her that it shouldn’t be any harder that the wheeled frame she used inside the home. Well, at least on the flat anyway. Nerelda knew the path on the opposite side of the clearing ran in a gentle down grade almost parallel to the riverbank and initially she had been quietly confident about her ability to pilot the chair along its length. Now, with the afternoon sun beating down mercilessly, the distance was beginning to resemble a trek across the Sahara. Perspiration dripped from her forehead and ran into her eyes but she didn’t dare release her hold on the handles to wipe it away. Her balance, shaky at best, was obviously being affected by the medications already consumed and the absolute last thing she needed now was another fall. And wouldn’t that be wonderful, Nerelda thought grimly! With her luck she would simply break the other hip and be confined, bed-ridden, in the high-care ward. And as far as she was concerned that would be, ‘a fate worse than death’! That phrase had suddenly become a whole lot clearer in her mind during her two week sojourn in that area immediately following the operation. Those days had crystallized Nerelda’s decision to become the architect of her own fate. Initially she had considered simply refusing to eat but had abandoned that plan some four days later when threatened with being force fed by tube. In vain she had pleaded with the medical staff and her family to simply be allowed to go with some vestige of dignity to no avail. And so the seeds of a plan, that had culminated today, had been sown.
At last there was shade from the trees overhanging the river and Nerelda breathed a little easier. Almost there, she told herself, not much further now. She had not allowed Reilly to bring her here again after they had initially discovered this place. When the alarm was finally raised, and her family contacted, she didn’t wish any particular spot to stand out when they were quizzed as to where she had might have gone. One little uphill push and she was standing on a high bank, looking down into the blue-grey water as it swirled lazily in a deep pool. At this point the paved path ended and a garden bench had been placed for the comfort of those who came to admire the view. Nerelda lowered herself carefully onto the seat, making sure she applied the wheelchair’s brakes and unclipped her walking stick which she laid beside her. To linger here had not been part of the plan but in truth the walk had knocked the stuffing out of her and she needed to catch her breath for a moment or two.
In the lazy afternoon heat the air was filled with the drone of bees as they made their way busily through the flowers of the tall gums and the muted hum fell soothingly on Nerelda’s ears. From further down the river she heard the musical carolling of a magpie and the sound brought a half smile to her lips. So uniquely Australian, she thought. The year she had lived with Patti in California had been both amazingly easy and, at times, heartbreakingly sad. Quite simply she had missed her country, her family and her familiars. There were times when a wave of homesickness would literally bring her to her knees, but she had tried to have these breakdowns when alone. It had been her choice, no one had forced her, and she endeavoured to meet Patti at the door each night with a smile and a hug. Not, she reflected, that that had ever been hard to do. The noise of Patti’s pickup easing into the garage, the scrape of her key in the back door and finally her deep voice calling playfully “Honey, I’m home” had thrilled Nerelda to her core, no matter how many times it happened. The ease with which domestic chores were shared, the comfortableness they felt in each other’s space was a source of never ending delight to Nerelda. All the ordinary daily events were imbued with a glow that had left her thrilled, if puzzled, until she realised that they had been polished by love. Their joy in each other was a gift that shone its light over every aspect of their life in a way that sometimes left her feeling sad, only because she had waited so long for this experience. For the first time in her life Nerelda had felt completely accepted for herself and loved beyond measure. So, to have it ripped away from her, for no reason other than being the wrong sex on a spouse sponsorship form, had been a blow from which she had never fully recovered.
Oh, certainly there had been flings; close friendships which she had mistaken for deeper feelings and the occasional attack of blind lust, but nobody had ever even looked like coming close to her love for Patti. Or perhaps, she had simply never given anyone a chance to get that close. The searing pain she had endured when they were first parted was nothing she would wish on her worst enemy, and though it had muted over time into a dull ache, it had never left her. Overall, it had been simpler to just stay single. She had moved into a small unit straight after her mother had died and there had been finally been enough money to divorce with a minimum of financial hardship for her ex-husband. She’d had her independence, a part-time job, a ginger cat which seemingly came with the unit, so why mess it up with the complexities of a relationship? Nerelda had very early come to the conclusion that the dyke community had as many dramas as its straight counterpart, perhaps even more as the pool of available women became smaller and smaller, as she got older and older. No, it had been easier to just get by on memories and dreams. And she had dreamed more and more lately. Most nights now Patti came to her –laughing, teasing, holding out her arms. Nerelda wasn’t about to wait any longer. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Fri May 13, 2011 10:13 am
girlwithguitar4447
Joined: 29 Jan 2010
Posts: 124
Location: Michigan
There is such poignant beauty in the words you write MG. Though obviously sad this is an incredible story. Keep it up.
Sat May 14, 2011 12:49 am
Allison
Joined: 12 Oct 2005
Posts: 4216
Location: Florida
Sadly beautiful MG. I am happy that you are beginning to get this story down in words. It's a richly valuable lesson to be learned. I look forward to reading the rest.
Alli _________________ Alli
Sun May 15, 2011 1:19 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Thanks GiGi and Alli, you are both too kind to me. THis is getting harder and harder to write but Im struggling along. New section about to be added.
HugZ, MG _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Sun May 15, 2011 5:55 am
MysteryGirl Moderators
Joined: 02 Jun 2007
Posts: 3419
Location: I come from a land downunder
Chapter 7
After swallowing four more tablets Nerelda used the stick to push herself upright, wobbling a little as the wheelchair, brakes newly released, sailed over the edge of the riverbank and splashed into the water below. There was no point in manoeuvring any closer to the drop-off to check: the chair was either completely submerged or it wasn’t. There was nothing she could do about it now. Her whole focus was fixed on the next stage of her plan which depended on the staff at the home assuming she was wheelchair bound, or, at the very most, able to only move small distances using a walker. She had managed to practice with the walking stick for about a half hour a day, carving out ten minute blocks of time during rest periods The trail which meandered alongside the river from this point on was soft sand and leaves and Nerelda doubted anyone would be looking for her down there. At least, not in the initial sweep of the grounds which would be undertaken once she was officially declared missing. It was likely that their immediate attention would be focused on her being offsite. By the time they brought in the sniffer dogs, she would be long gone she hoped.
After returning to Perth Nerelda had joined several social organisations for gay women including a walking group which had exposed her to the many kilometres of trails around the city and river. Of course, over the years, places, events and people she knew casually had tended to blur somewhat in her mind but not this spot. The day her grandson had pushed her to the top of the riverbank where she had just ditched the wheelchair she had instantly been aware of when, and with whom, she had been here before. Nerelda stepped tentatively down the little used track, watching carefully where she placed her feet, smiling to herself as she remembered that day, and Janie. The two of them had been hiking with the Trampers group and were so engaged in conversation they had fallen behind the main bunch by the time they had arrived at the overlook. I wonder whatever happened to her, Nerelda thought; she was such a sweet woman. They had shared several tentative kisses but in the end it had all come to nothing. Janie was simply too damaged by the end of a long-term relationship to allow herself to get attached to anyone again and eventually had gone to the Eastern States to be near her children and small grandchild. Nerelda sighed regretfully; Janie had been the only one who might have come close to what she had felt for Patti.
The paperbarks along this stretch of the river were clustered thickly on either side of the trail along which Nerelda was labouring It was quite obviously unused and rarely visited. If she could have crossed her fingers she would have but caution kept her right hand tightly gripped on the head of the walking stick. Please, please, let it still be here, she repeated the mantra in her mind; it couldn’t have been much further than this surely? She distinctly recalled trying to subtly persuade Janie to rest at the secluded spot, but her companion had wanted to push on to the look out point further along. Of course, in the intervening years, any amount of changes could have occurred and perhaps – but no, there it was!
Nerelda’s heartbeat gave several peculiar little double-skips at the sight of the old wooden bench tucked into a small sandy inlet. Her free left hand pressed against her chest wall, willing her heart to resume its normal rhythm and she stood like that for several minutes before feeling able to move forward those last few steps and sit down. The relief at finally achieving the final stage of her plan was dizzying and she closed her eyes and waited out the waves of emotion that washed through her body. The adrenalin hit that had kept her moving all day abruptly dropped away and left her feeling limp and totally exhausted. But it no longer mattered; this was the last effort she would have to make in this life. All that remained was to take the rest of the medication and wait for the peace she so badly desired. Nerelda was surprised at how difficult it was to move her left arm: there was pain in that shoulder and down the length of it, making it difficult to remove her backpack and extract the tablets and water bottle. Finally, they lay in her lap, but the effort had left her drenched in a clammy sweat and feeling nauseated. It had also set her heart to double-beating again and the shaking in her right hand made it impossible to twist open the bottle top.
“It;s okay, you just need to take it easy for a minute”, she told herself weakly. Hadn’t she had several of these funny little episodes recently and always they had settled with time and some slow deep breaths. There was no need for panic, there wasn’t any chance of being discovered now. What was it Patti used to tell her when she got herself into a state about something or the other? Ah yes, that was it…Harden up Princess! She smiled to herself as she recalled the mock-serious look on Patti’s face when she would make that pronouncement. In truth Nerelda knew back then that her lover would have done anything humanly possible to make her life easier but had felt obliged to keep up a self-proclaimed soft-butch image. Nerelda had never felt it necessary to give a ‘tag’ to her ex lover; indeed it seemed such a definition had not been invented to describe a woman equally at home with a spatula or a power tool in her hand. Certainly her outward appearance had screamed ‘Butch’; from her standard attire of sweat pants and t-shirt, topped with a checked flannelette shirt, to the no-nonsense short grey hair, lack of makeup and sensible shoes. But this same stereotype wrote sizzlingly erotic stories and heartfelt poetry, had once made a living as a stock photographer and had an artist’s eye when it came to the colours or placement of items within their home.
The pain deep within Nerelda’s chest ceased to worry her as for the first time that day she was able to give free reign to her memories of Patti and their life together. Anyway, she knew exactly what it signified: a broken heart never really mends, no matter how much you paper over the cracks. You don’t get over a once in a lifetime love, Nerelda thought wearily, you just adapt to living in a sepia world. But it had been worth every single second of pain, every empty hour, each long day which merged into endless weeks and blurred into months and years, to know the exquisite joy, the wonder, the unconditional love that she and Patti had shared for that one short year. How many people ever have that, she wondered? The words Patti had spoken quite early in their relationship were still engraved on her heart – “We are not perfect babe, but we ARE perfect for each other.” There had been times, in the long years since they had been parted, that Nerelda had cursed the gods of fate for their cruelty in allowing her such a tantalizing glimpse of paradise and then closing the door on that vision. Now, as the images of that precious year tumbled through her mind like a parade of holiday snapshots, she realised that she had, in fact, been blessed. Love had been showered down upon her like a libation from above. How lucky she had been. _________________ Be yourself.............everybody else is taken!
Sun May 15, 2011 6:03 am
aidyl
Joined: 11 Nov 2007
Posts: 173
Location: Trinidad
I know you said it is hard to write this story but keep going MG, you have my full attention as i am sure you have others too.
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but keep going MG, you have my full attention as i am sure you have others too.
