Old Friends

Alarms were beeping rhythmically as people in scrubs hurried down the halls past my door. I sat in my wheelchair by the big window and watched as a red bird struggled to get the last few pieces of bird seed from the feeder.

“I’m so sorry, momma.” My daughter cried as tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She gripped my wrinkled hand tighter, seeming to hold on for dear life. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.

“Honey, I know. This is the right thing to do. I’ll be very well taken care of here.”

It was my 6^th fall this month. A broken hip landed me in a nursing home a few miles from home. I had been living alone in a large two-story home that I was unable to get around anymore. My daughter, bless her heart, is raising her three grandchildren after her own daughter and son in law passed in a horrible car accident earlier this year. She’s my only child, and she is all these precious great grandbabies have left. She doesn’t need to be worrying about her 89-year-old mother. I know she’ll visit every day and take care of all my affairs for me. It’s how she was raised. So we said our goodbyes and I looked around the room at what was to be my new home.

Over the next few weeks my daughter made the 140 square foot room that I shared with a woman named Janet a home. My walls were covered in old family portraits and pictures of my late husband, Eddy. My drawers were filled with snacks and my mini fridge was stocked with diet cokes and strawberry yogurt. I had puzzles, books, a television, and even a small cellphone my daughter bought me that I still couldn’t work. But I was very lonely.

My daughter came every day and brought the kids at least once a week. Sometimes Janet would talk me into going to bingo or eating down in the dining hall. But most days I just sat by the large window and looked out at the birds, occasionally seeing a deer or rabbit.

I decided I really needed to learn how to use that little flip phone so I could make calls without having to bother the nurses every time.

One afternoon the young speech therapist was in my room working with Janet. She had always been so sweet so I thought maybe she could show me a few things.

“Of course, Ms. Hazel!” she exclaimed as she popped off her rubber gloves and sanitized her hands. “Let me see here.” And after 15 minutes or so I had learned how to call out. I even practiced by calling my daughter who was shocked to hear my voice on the other end of the line.

I was proud of this new skill and enjoyed playing around on my phone. I called a few girlfriends from high school and my grandchildren every now and then. I began going through the list of numbers I had memorized in my head and remembered one that belonged to a very old friend from school, James. He and I were inseparable. We were friends from kindergarten all the way through early adulthood. But one day he started spending time with a girl from the city. And she didn’t like that he spent so much time with me or our other friends. She wouldn’t let him speak to any of his old friends and our relationship ended just like that. I hadn’t thought of him in years. I was sure this couldn’t still be his number. But what would it hurt to call it anyway?

That evening around 7pm, I dialed the number to his home phone from years ago. There was no way he still lived there, and it was very possible he could even be dead after all these years. But I was still nervous anyway. My old fingers shook as I held the phone up to my ear. It rang.

“Hello,” a very rough, but familiar voice answered.

I gasped, not expecting it to be him.

“Hello!” He said louder sounding slightly annoyed. “I’m not interested in buying anything!”

“Oh, no it’s me, James,” I said quickly and quietly. I didn’t even say my name. But I guess I didn’t have to.

“Minnie?” he said, his voice softening. “Is that really you?”

“Of course,” I felt myself blush. So silly for an old woman like me. But how did he recognize my voice after all this time?

“I haven’t heard from you in years. How are you?” His voice sounded younger now.

I updated him on my current living situation, and he explained that he sold his house in the city years ago and had moved back into his very first home that he had previously been renting out. With the same telephone number I had memorized. It felt so natural talking to him. We talked for over an hour and tried to catch up as best we could. We had both lived full lives and had so many stories to tell.

My heart swelled when we hung up, and I felt a joy I hadn’t felt in years. I fell asleep smiling that night.

And just like that, I had a new daily routine. Every night at 7pm exactly, James would call, and we would talk. It was so wonderful to hear his voice and to have something to look forward to each day. He told me about his divorce from Betty and that they had no children. I told him about my daughter and grandchildren and how my husband had passed 10 years ago.

Over the next few weeks, we grew very close, and I felt like I was a school girl in love. I suppose we always had chemistry in the past, but we were such good friends we never explored it. He made me laugh and feel beautiful, although he hadn’t seen me since I actually was. My hair is white now and my skin dry and wrinkled.

One day he asked if he could come visit. He brought me my favorite cookies and drinks. He sat with me by my bed for hours. Phone calls each night turned into visits in person.  

As I sat in my wheelchair one rainy Sunday afternoon, James showed up at my door much earlier than usual.

“What are you doing here so early,” I smiled.

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulled a box out of his pocket walking toward me.

My heart started racing. He apologized that he could not get down on one knee and we both belly laughed.

“Millie, will you marry me?” He took my hand in his.

Tears welled in my eyes.

“Yes!” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks now. He kissed my thin lips and hugged me tight. I didn’t care if we would never have a wedding. I didn’t care that we wouldn’t be living with each other. I found my best friend at 89 years old. All it took was a simple phone call. The love was already there.