Rollback

Don bent low, feeling twinges in his back as he did so. He wanted to lift Cassie up, but that was impossible. He settled for letting her get her little arms around his neck and giving him a squeeze. Cassie was oblivious to the fact that she was hurting him, and he endured it until she let go. She then scampered through the living room and followed her mother to the kitchen. He turned to watch her and saw Sarah coming down from upstairs, one painful step at a time, gripping the banister with both hands as she did so.

By the time she reached the bottom step, Don heard the front door opening again, and his daughter Emily — divorced, no kids — coming in. Soon enough, everyone was crowded into the living room. With his cochlear implants, Don’s hearing wasn’t bad under normal circumstances, but he couldn’t really pick out any one thread of conversation from the hubbub that now filled the air. Still, it was his family, all together. He was happy about that, but—

But it might be the last time. They’d gathered just six weeks ago for Christmas at Carl’s place, in Ajax. His children and grandchildren wouldn’t normally all get together again until next Christmas, but—

But he couldn’t count on there being a next Christmas; not at his age…

No; that wasn’t what he should be dwelling on. Today was a party, a celebration. He should enjoy it, and—

And suddenly there was a champagne flute in his hand. Emily was circling the room, handing them out to the adults, while Carl presented plastic tumblers of juice to the children.

"Dad, go stand by Mom," Carl said. And he did so, making his way across the room to where she was — not standing; she couldn’t stand for long. Rather, she was seated in the old La-Z-Boy. Neither of them ever reclined it anymore, although the grandkids loved to operate the mechanism. He stood next to Sarah, looking down on her thinning snow-white hair. She craned her neck as much as she could to look up at him, and a smile crossed her face, one more line in a landscape of creases and folds.

"Everybody, everybody!" shouted Carl. He was the elder of Don and Sarah’s kids and always took charge. "Your attention, please!" The conversation and laughter died down quickly, and Don watched as Carl raised his own champagne flute. "I’d like to propose a toast. To Mom and Dad, on their sixtieth wedding anniversary!"

The adults all raised their glasses, and, after a moment, the kids imitated them with their tumblers. "To Don and Sarah!" said Emily, and, "To Grandma and Grandpa," declared Percy.

Don took a sip of the champagne, the first alcohol he’d had since New Year’s Eve.

He noted his hand was shaking even more than it normally did, not from age but with emotion.

"So, Dad, what do you say?" asked Carl. He was grinning from ear to ear. Emily, for her part, was recording everything with her datacom. "Would you do it all over again?"

Carl had asked the question, but Don’s answer was really for Sarah. He set his glass on a little tea table next to the La-Z-Boy, then slowly, painfully, lowered himself onto one knee, so that he was at eye level with his seated wife. He reached over, took her hand, feeling the thin, almost translucent skin sliding over the swollen joints, and looked into her pale blue eyes. "In a heartbeat," he said softly.

Emily let out a long, theatrical, "Awwww…"

Sarah squeezed his hand, and she smiled at him, the same wry smile he’d fallen for back when they were both in their twenties, and she said, with a steadiness that her voice almost never managed these days, "Me, too."

Carl’s exuberance got the better of him. "To another sixty years!" he said, lifting his glass again, and Don found himself laughing at the ridiculousness of the proposition.

"Why not?" he said, slowly rising again, then reaching for his glass. "Why the heck not?"

The phone rang. He knew his kids thought the voice-only phones were quaint, but neither he nor Sarah had any desire to have 2-D picture phones, let alone holophones. His first thought was not to answer; let whoever it was leave a message.

But it was probably a well-wisher — maybe even his brother Bill calling from Florida, where he wintered.

The cordless handset was on the other side of the room. Don lifted his eyebrows and nodded at Percy, who looked delighted to be charged with such a task. He raced across the room, and rather than just bringing over the handset, he activated it and very politely said, "Halifax residence."

It was possible that Emily, standing near Percy, could hear the person on the other end of the line, but Don couldn’t make out anything. After a moment, he heard Percy say, "Just a sec," and the boy started walking across the room. Don held out his hand to take the handset, but Percy shook his head. "It’s for Grandma."

Sarah looked surprised as she took the handset, which, upon recognizing her fingerprints, automatically cranked up its volume. "Hello?" she said.