NEWS YEARS PARTY?

New Year's Eve. Memories of her last year with Charlie flooded her mind. Janice sat alone. He was so sick-- just three months before he died. A trip to the wine store-- a bottle of champagne and two special glasses. She and Charlie settled in the living room (he in his chair, she on the sofa) waiting for the magic hour.

A little past one oclock Janice awoke. Charlie slept.

The champagne was opened two years later but was undrinkable. The glasses were never used.

That was five years ago.

Tonight Janice sat alone at her dining room table with an open champagne bottle and one never used glass. 12:01 AM. "To what we were," she said as she raised her filled glass. Now what to do with the rest of the bottle.

CHRISTMAS WITHOUT CHARLIE

Janice was rooting through the haphazard stack of boxes in the spare room closet-- looking for the small Christmas tree Charlie bought the last Christmas he was alive. They had agreed not to have a tree-- the mess and all. But three days before Christmas Charlie came home from his chemo treatment with a two foot decorated tree.

Charlie died before the next Christmas. The tree had been in storage ever since. It was time to bring it out. Charlie would like that.

The phone rang.

“Carolyn here. How would you like to go tree hunting with us?”
“Who’s us?”
“Mazie and me.”
“Mazie told me they weren’t going to put up a tree this year. Clyde might not even be home from his hospital stay.”
“But he might. And it’s likely his last Christmas. He needs a tree.”

That pitiful little tree somewhere in the closet brought home by Charlie his last Christmas---
“When are we going? Janice asked.
“How about this afternoon. Say one.”
“I’m in.”

Janice found her little tree.

JANICE FIGHT HOLIDAY LONLINESS

JANICE BATTLES LONELINESS

It was the worst time of the year for Janice. The end of December. Christmas, her birthday, New Year’s Eve. Dates celebrated with Charlie for fifty two years. Until he died five years ago. Five years? Had it been five years? It seemed like yesterday in December. Other times it seemed a lifetime ago.

She wasn’t alone; she had friends. Friends who ill, friends who were facing death, friends who were just old. She was alone. Alone means what? No one in your life who shares all your good and bad. No one like Charlie or her sister-- both dead now. No one to share Christmas dinner with; no one to ring in the new year with a kiss. That was one of the worst. For more years than she could remember New Year’s Eve had been special. Proof was the celebratory tablecloth she treasured. Or was it her birthday? Every year since their marriage Charlie replaced the Christmas decorations with a birthday theme. Janice was heavy into her pity party.

The phone rang. “Janice. Clyde is bad, real bad.”
Mazie did not need to be alone. I’ll be right over.”

JANICE FEELS HER AGE

Ask anyone who knew Janice. All will say she is strong. She was. She had met with resolve the death of her beloved brother to COPD, her husband to leukemia, her daughter to an automobile accident. Friends were going at increasingly closer intervals “Strong” was fatiguing.

Lying on the bed in Mazie’s spare room Janice stared at the ceiling. Water spots from the leaky roof last year formed a smiley face. “Glad you’re happy”, she said aloud. “Nobody else is. Mazie sure isn’t. And where are the kids?”

Mazie’s son in Arizona, her daughter in Illinois knew their father was terminal. Mazie explained they had busy lives with jobs and kids of their own. Getting away was not easy. It had been the same when Jared died.

Janice remembered when her father died. She and Charlie were six hundred miles away. Charlie had just started a new job; the children had just started the school year. Janice flew home for the funeral and returned home the next day.

It had not always been so. When her grandfather died the whole family was there, acting like families no longer acted. Now children, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews were scattered. They were busy with their lives. The extended family was dead.

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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.