The House

“There are no ‘old maids’ anymore, Stanley. There are independent women, who have careers and different priorities and needs than women had years ago,” she said, convincing no one but herself. Stanley didn't buy it. He knew her better, and was wiser about life than she.

“That's hogwash and you know it,” he said sternly. “People haven't changed in two thousand years. The smart ones still settle down, get married, and have kids. Or they wind up like me.” He had wound up a very, very rich man, which didn't seem like such a bad thing to her. She was sorry that he had no children, and had no relatives nearby, but living as long as he had, most people wound up alone. He had outlived everyone he had ever known. He might even have lost all his children by then, if he'd had any, and would have only had grandchildren or great-grandchildren to comfort him. In the end, she told herself, no matter who we think we have, we leave this world alone. Just as Stanley would. It was just more obvious, in his case. But she knew, from the life her mother had shared with her father, that you can be just as alone, even if you have a spouse and children. She was in no hurry to saddle herself with either. The married people she knew didn't look all that happy to her, and if she ever married and it didn't work out, she didn't need an ex-husband to hate and torment her. She knew too many of those, too. She was much happier like this, working, on her own, with a part-time boyfriend who met her needs for the moment. The thought of marrying him never crossed her mind, or his. They had both agreed from the beginning that a simple relationship was all they wanted from each other. Simple, and easy. Especially since they were both busy with jobs they loved.

Sarah could see then that Stanley was truly exhausted, and she decided to cut the visit short this time. He had signed the papers, which was all she needed. He looked like he was about ready to fall asleep.

“I'll come back and see you soon, Stanley. Let me know if you need anything. I'll come over whenever you like,” she said gently, patting the frail hand again after she stood up and took the papers from him. She slipped them into her briefcase as he watched her with a wistful smile. He loved watching her, just the easy grace of her movements as she chatted with him, or did ordinary things.

“I might not be here,” he said simply, without self-pity. It was a simple statement of fact that they both knew was possible but that she didn't like to hear.

“Don't be silly,” she chided him. “You'll be here. I'm counting on you to outlive me.”

“I'd better not,” he said sternly. “And next time I see you, I want to hear all about some vacation you took. Take a cruise. Go lie on a beach somewhere. Pick up a guy, get drunk, go dancing, cut loose. Mark my words, Sarah, you'll be sorry one day if you don't do it.” She laughed at his suggestions, visualizing herself picking up strangers on a beach. “I mean it!”

“I know you do. I think you're trying to get me arrested and disbarred.” She smiled broadly at him, and kissed his cheek. It was an uncharacteristically unprofessional gesture, but he was dear to her, and she to him.

“Screw getting disbarred. It might do you good. Get a life, Sarah. Stop working so hard.” He always said the same things to her, and she took them with a grain of salt. She enjoyed what she did. Her work was like a drug she was addicted to. She had no desire to give up the addiction, and maybe not for years, although she knew his warnings were heartfelt and well intended.

“I'll try,” she lied, smiling at him. He really was like a grandfather to her.

“Try harder.” He scowled at her, and then smiled at the kiss on his cheek. He loved the feel of her velvet skin on his face, the softness of her breath so close to him. It made him feel young again, although he knew that in his youth he would have been too foolish and intent on his work to pay any attention to her, no matter how beautiful she was. The two women he had lost, due to his own stupidity at the time, he realized now, had been just as beautiful and sensual as she. He hadn't acknowledged that to himself until recently. “Take care of yourself,” he said as she stood in the doorway, holding her briefcase and turned back to look at him.

“You too. Behave yourself. Don't chase your nurses around the room, they might quit.” He chuckled at the suggestion.

“Have you looked at them?” He laughed out loud this time, and so did she. “I'm not getting out of bed for that,” he said, grinning, “not with these old knees. I may be stuck in bed, my dear, but I'm not blind, you know. Send me some new ones, and I might give them a run for their money.”

“I'll bet you would,” she said, and with a wave at him, finally forced herself to leave. He was still smiling as she left, and told the nurse she could find her way downstairs on her own.