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.

JANICE IS CALLED ON FOR HELP

Janice sat at her dining room table, working the newspaper daily crossword puzzle. She used to do the puzzle with Charlie. She sat to Charlie’s right because he was left handed and she right handed. It made for a good working situation.

The phone rang! Earlier than acceptable to a retired person. Not that it mattered to Janice. Few days went by that her two dogs let her sleep past daybreak.

“Hello,” she said holding the phone in one hand and a cup of dog food in the other.

“Janice, I hope I didn’t get you up. Carolyn here.”

“No the dogs did that.”

“I have sad news. Mazie said I should call you. Jared dies last night.”

Janice knew Jared was not well, but dead. “How? I thought he was on the --” She hesitated. “I guess we knew it was inevitable but not just now. How is Ellen?”

“That’s why I called. I think she would use a visit from you.”

"Why me? What can I say?” Silence. “And to be honest, Carolyn, I don’t need this.”

“Neither does Ellen.” Silence. “Janice you’ve been there. She needs you.”

Ellen needed her. Where was Ellen and the others when she needed them? Now she was to drop whatever she was doing and help Ellen.

v

Janice Faces Her Lonliness

Mazie’s call lingered in her consciousness. Why she wondered. Was it the loneliness, the boredom or the wine? Janice felt she had been kicked in the ass. Alone in her two people house she felt attacked on two fronts. A family whose evangelical roots ran wide and deep loomed in the recesses of her consciousness. The Unitarian Fellowship of which she and Charlie were founders-- now a church they worked so hard to avoid-- plagued her.

“The world is too much with us” a famous poet once said. Janice agreed.

When Charlie was alive they felt a connection with each other, with nature, with God. Charlie was the linchpin of her spiritual health. Now Charlie was gone.

Can the trinity- father, son and holy ghost exist of one is removed? Can her own trinity, Janice, Charlie and nature, exist if one is removed?

Screw Mazie! Why did she have the right to stir things up?

I Am Taking On A new Challenge. The introduction follows.

OLD PEOPLE

Janice was at loose ends with her life. Recovering from Charlie’s death was still a project in process. Or so she kept telling herself. Addiction to e-mail, Facebook and texting kept her hours and days occupied. Then came the brutal challenge from a long time, long distance friend.

Mazie called-- late one Tuesday night. Janice, annoyed at the late hour call, would have not answered anyone but Mazie. “Mazie, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yes I do. I am not yet senile.”

Silence

Finally Janice asked, “Something wrong?”

“Nothing with me. You I am not sure.”

Silence

“Meaning just what?”

“Really. You have to ask? All you do, Janice, is piss and moan. And to be honest we’re all sick of it.”

“Well bully for you. Do I need to remind you you still have a husband? If so consider yourself reminded. Now cut the flack and give me a little slack.”

“Slack? You act like you’re dead too. For God’s sake you’re only sixty-- sixty what? One or two? Not that it matters. What matters is that you get off your pity party and get on with your life.”

Silence

“And do exactly what?”

Silence

“Whatever the hell you want to do. You always said you wanted to write. And if I remember you used to paint. So write or paint.”

Janice wanted to hang up. Mazie asked , “Have you heard anything from the Comers lately?”

Taken aback from the swift shift Janice said, “No. Why?”

“I was reminded of them last week when I ran into someone who used to know them. I remember the last time I saw Julie-- you remember-- at Marge’s funeral. She was so full of stories about what she and Marge did when they were you ng. She had us in stitches. She is a real character.”

The conversation ended on a high note and Janice was glad she had answered. It was always good to talk to Mazie.

If It Were't For Bad Luck I'd Have No Luck At All

Recently I had what can only be called the week from Hell. On Sunday night my refrigerator died. Monday morning I purchased a new one. That was not an easy task. I live in a remodeled double wide manufactured home. It is small; the doors are not standard width. I knew from past experience that one of those wide refrigerators would never make it into the house. With tape measure in hand I went shopping. Done. Plans to deliver was set for Thursday at 9:00AM.

Wednesday evening what was to be a hot shower turned out to be a cold shower. The water heater died.  Thursday AM a water heater repairman came to inform me that to repair would be almost as costly as replacement. Friday was set for replacement. Meanwhile the refrigerator did not come. After a round of calls back and forth I learned it was on the delivery truck and would be delivered at 7:00 PM. Not so. It arrived at 9:00.

I was in good shape. The refrigerator was in;  the water heater was coming tomorrow. Not so. The air conditioning stopped working. Friday the water heater was installed; the air conditioning was fixed. Time to buy groceries. I had just left when my car blinked one of those nasty little warnings-- telling me my tires are in need of air. I sat in a tire place for two + hours while they finally for around to patching a puncture and re-inflating the tire.

Now all is good.  You would think.

Saturday I decided to fill out the registration forms for the new appliances. Two little cards with lines for the model number and serial number. Easy I thought as I got that information from the inside of the refrigerator.  Not so the water heater.  With some difficulty I located  the information. In a tiny little box at the very bottom of the heater-- small not sharp black letters on a dark gray heater. I am old; my joints are old; my eyes are old. I stooped: I sat on a stool; I knelt on the floor. I held a flashlight and a magnifying glass. No luck. Then I stretched out on the floor- flashlight and magnifying glass in one hand-- pencil in the other. Just as I was to write the long series of numbers and letters my dog jumped on my back hoping it was play time.

If there be god anywhere I hope he/she or it gives me a reprieve before further problems.