LIFE SEEMS TOO CHALLENGING

Janice’s mind was overwhelmed. Too much; too much. Was this what old age was? A vision of her favorite now dead uncle surfaced. She had spent the weekend with him when she attended her 50th high school reunion. They sat in his living room savoring a glass of wine before going to bed. “Old age,” he said.

"Old age what?”

“They say old age is the golden years. Bullshit I say. It’s more like the leaden years.”

More like the leaden years. Maybe he had it right. She had lost Charlie; Ellen lost Jared. Now Mazie. Clyde had leukemia-- the nasty kind. Two years tops.

“I don’t need this shit,” Janice said to her image in bathroom mirror. “Where is it chipped in stone that we should live like this? Struggling to keep death at bay?” She raised her arms, looked at her saggy breasts and baggy throat. Without warning from a book she read as a freshman in college sprang into her consciousness. “Live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse”. Her laughter burst out. “I guess I do need this shit more than I need to die. I am alive; I like being alive."

Minutes later she was on the phone. “Mazie, you want me to over for the night?"

JANICE AVAILABLE ON DEMAND

Available on demand.

Available on demand.

Was that what her life was to be?

Had it always been this way?

Before Charlie died she was half of a couple, on a plane with her couple friends. Now she was the ‘available on demand Janice’.

Janice was working herself into a real snit. The phone rang. Mazie. Let it ring. “Janice, Mazie here. Call me when you get in.” Silence. “Please.”

Mazie’s please echoed in her head as did her own ‘call her’, ‘don’t call her’. Call her won.

“Mazie, just got your message. What can I do for you?”

“Janice, can I come over for a short visit. I need to talk to somebody.”

With another demand on her time because Janice was available to help; Janice was available on demand. “Mazie, I just got in. How about tomorrow?”

“It won’t take long. Please.”

* * * *

“Mazie, what is it?” Janice asked the swollen red eyed Mazie.

“Clyde has leukemia.” Sobs replaced further words.

Janice embraced her. “Whatever you need-- I’m here.”

JANICE IS CALLED TO DUTY

The coffee was wimpy; the toast charred. Her hair was spiked from a night of on and off again sleepless tossing; the newspaper was late again. Not an auspicious beginning to the day.

The phone rang.

She did not answer.

It was noon before she surrendered to her curiosity and checked her voice mail. “Janice, Mazie here. Could you come by Ellen’s tomorrow morning and help her set up the guest room for Debbie. I’m picking Debbie up at the airport. She’s flying in for her dad’s funeral. Call me back.”

Janice fought the anger she was feeling at herself and at Mazie. At Mazie for asking this and at herself for resenting it. She called Mazie.

At nine the next morning she appeared at Ellen’s door with Hardee’s sausage biscuits and coffee. “Ellen, I am so sorry.” She embraced her long time friend.

Her concern for Ellen co-mingled with the resurfacing of her own loss. Tears flowed from both women.

Finally Janice stood back and said, “Now the first order of business is breakfast. And don’t tell me you aren’t hungry. You have to eat. Then we make abed for Debbie. How long is she staying?”

“Just for the funeral. She has to get back to work.”

Well past noon Mazie produced a teary eyed Debbie and a bag of Deli sandwiches. “I need to get home to see to Clyde’s supper. Call me if you need anything. I leave you Janice’s good hands.”

Janice’s good hands. Janice’s Charlie was not waiting for his supper; Janice was available on demand.