vignette ~ What To Do

After twenty-two years of an uneventful marriage, Bretta and Dave divorced four years ago. No acrimony, just ennui. The twins, Samantha and Tatiana -- Sam and Tits for short -- were in college when the decision was made. They accepted the news with only a few questions, and the divorce was amicably handled by an acquaintance of Dave’s. From different apartments in different parts of town, they sold the house and divided everything up neatly and politely, exactly as things had always been in their marriage.

Then, three months after the papers were signed and two days before the divorce was technically final, Dave was. Final, that is. He had a heart attack while he was working late, and was found by the janitor. Apparently it had happened very quickly, meaning Dave left this life as easily as he’d come in. Honestly, some people just had all the luck.

None of it had been an emotional watershed, thought Bretta, so why, after four years, was there still just a touch of emptiness which persisted in coming and going of its own accord? Irritating in its constant incongruity, but there you are. Where are rules when you need them?

And besides the occasional bouts of loneliness, there was that whole aging thing. I mean, getting older was just such a let-down. New wrinkles, no matter how cute, and sparse hair, even if one didn’t really need all those pubes, just didn’t do all that much for the self-esteem department, not to mention the tiny little bits of weight gain here and those little pooches of sagging flesh there. Even wisdom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

So here she was, just four months past her sixtieth birthday, wondering what she should do with her three weeks of vacation this year. Her girlfriend was tied up with a sick parent and a wandering husband so making plans with her wouldn’t happen. The twins were both starting new jobs, Sam in Pittsburgh and Tits in Fort Wayne, and going anywhere with either of them was out of the question.

What to do, what to do. She could take a cruise, fly to Italy or New Zealand, do the Elderhostel thing somewhere, drive across the country. But there was nothing which cried out and said, “Do Me.” Not even a man. And it had been so long since she’d had a good roll in the hay, she wasn’t even sure she remembered how. Haha, as if. Baby boomers could do anything. Show her a willing man and she’d show him a thing or two. Maybe even with the lights on.

But boyfriends from high school and college were gone and long forgotten and, Demi not withstanding, most younger guys weren’t looking for an older partner. Oh well, maybe she’d meet up with someone when she lived in an old folks’ home, and they could watch Frisky Business together as their dry, arthritic hands curled around each other’s fingers.

Well, that thought was simply depressing and right now she had places to go and people to see, so she grabbed her coat and went out to enjoy a walk on this beautiful Autumn day.

Still air, smelling of burning leaves, made her think back fifty years. And the sound of crunching leaves under her feet made her feel like scooping a bunch together and jumping into them for fun. “On second thought, breaking bones would be painful. Good grief, can't we have any fun anymore?” she muttered as she walked along.