Vera

[audio:vera.mp3]

Vera stopped buying things in 1973. After the kids grew up, she felt no need to keep up with the times. Dated furnishings in sickly colors decorated her house, which hadn’t changed since her boys left. On this Wednesday night, just like any other, she removed her slippers at the bedside and gingerly eased her achy body beneath the crocheted bedspread, which she herself had made before the arthritis had petrified her hands. She thought of her sons, one in Colorado and one in Georgia. They called about twice a month. She wondered about them, about her granddaughter. Maybe tomorrow they would call. She thought of tomorrow. Sometimes on Thursdays she played bingo at the recreational center of her retirement community. Tomorrow, she thought, she would rather stay home. She had her crossword puzzles and her housework, and sometimes they played old movies on the television. She always felt out of place at bingo. She was shy, and often sat alone. Tomorrow she would stay home. And with that decision made, sleep closed her heavy, wrinkled eyes, took her in its arms, and gently swayed her into a dream.

Her old college classroom enveloped her, the one with the creaky wooden chairs and stained glass windows. Only three other people occupied the room. Beside her sat two of her old classmates, whose images maintained their actual old age, and on the other side of the room, alone, sat Vera, at age nineteen, youthful and pretty. The two classmates angled their bodies in towards each other and away from Vera, engrossed in conversation. She sat there silently, staring into the distance, with her hands clasped in her lap, alienated and uncomfortable. Across the room, the young Vera sat alone, just the same, quiet and shy. The class bell resounded throughout the building, and Vera awoke.

Regaining consciousness, she outstretched her frail arm, grasping for her husband’s hand. But she felt instead only the crisp, undisturbed sheets on the other side of the bed. She remembered that her husband had died three years ago. Nothing had changed. Only loneliness and isolation offered her their companionship. She sighed and curled up in herself, and tried to find sleep again, but even sleep deserted her now. Tomorrow she would stay home.

Tags: 30 Day Challenge, loneliness