Oh No . . . Not Again.

Aubrey squinted at the bedside clock. It was four in the morning and the summer dawn was forcing its way in through a gap in the curtains.

“Oh no.” He said, as he realised he’d made it through another night. “Not again.”

He struggled to sit up. His twisted sheets refused to let go of his legs, after a bit of a tussle, he gave in and rolled onto his back. Images of a walrus heaving itself across a beach flashed through his mind. He lay still for a moment panting. His chest sounding like old bagpipes.

The home never really slept. The majority of its residents didn’t know what day it was—what year it was—let alone what time it was. Aubrey shut his eyes.

“God. Are you there, God? It’s me, Aubrey.” He waited.

“God, I thought with a bit of luck, you would have come for me last night but, well, looks like I’m still here. Still here in good old ‘Seaview’ retirement home.”

He chuckled to himself at the name.

“God, I’ve looked from every window in this place and I haven’t had even a tiny glimpse of the sea. I feel Kinda’ short changed. Now, if it had been called Piddler’s Manor or even Cremation House, then at least we would have all been clear as to what we were signing up for.”

He pictured the glossy sales brochure for Piddler’s Manor with an old person standing in wet pants giving a thumbs up to the camera. A wide toothless smile spread across his face.

“You know Sir, I wouldn’t have minded. I wouldn’t have minded one bit if you’d gently woken me in the night. You see, God, I don’t want to sound ungrateful here, but I’m ninety-two years old, and I’m tired. I’m ready. I’m done.”

He lay in silence for a while waiting for a response.

“Actually, while I’ve got you on the line, God, I’ve got a few things I’d like to say. I’m a fair and honest man, God, I am, so I’ll keep this balanced.”

Aubrey tried again to free his legs but the sheets were having none of it.

“Do you want the good or the bad first? Tell you what, God, let’s start with the bad, should we? That way things can only get better. My name, God. Aubrey? For a boy? Really?”

He felt for the small scar under his grey stubbled chin, realising he was long overdue a shave.

“I was bullied for ten years straight because of that name, God. That’s the reason I became a teacher. I was damned if I was going to let any kid get bullied like I did.” 

He stroked at the stubble thoughtfully.

“That’s where I met my wife, Thelma. She was a teacher. I know you know all this, but I’ll feel better if I can get it off my chest before we meet. I hated you for a while, God. I’m sure you remember, I would tell you most days. It’s taken me my whole life to understand why you had to take her so young. But I feel like now, I do. Thelma was an angel and you needed her . . . I dedicated the rest of my life to teaching. I did it for her. I did it for all the children she never got to teach, and I did it for the ten year old me with stitches in his chin.

Aubrey opened his eyes as the sound of his own words registered.

“Wait a minute. Well I’ll be. . . God, You crafty old goat. I see what you did there. But I lost my childhood to those bullies. Thelma and I had our whole lives planned. Couldn’t you have just dropped a leaflet about becoming a teacher through my letterbox? Would have saved me a whole lot of heart ache. Still, I guess you had your reasons. I’m not angry anymore.”

Aubrey shuffled uncomfortably, still unable to get his feet free. He thought for a moment longer.

“Feel a bit foolish saying this, God. It’s such a long time ago now . . . Why didn’t you let Thelma and I have any children of our own?” 

The question hung in front of him like smoke.

“Truth be told, it’s all we ever wanted. A family. She would have been the most incredible mother. After she died, I would sit for hours on the bench in the park and listen to the families playing. Honestly, I think it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. That sound was reason enough to stop me going back to the empty house. Didn’t matter what I did or where I went, as soon as I closed that front door, the loneliness would crawl all over me. Suffocate me.”

He felt a warm teardrop tiptoe down his cheek.

“Silly old me.” He said, pulling at the sheet and wiping his eyes. “I’m just disappointed you didn’t come for me, God. And, well, you know I miss Thelma, even now.

Lost in his thoughts he lay silently listening. A door slammed along the corridor, brisk footsteps came closer. He held his breath. They carried on past his door. He listened until he couldn’t hear them any longer.

“Ok, God, I’m a man of my word. Now for the good things . . .”

“My new hip . . . There’s a miracle right there.”

“Thelma . . . There’s another one.”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Actually, any cake.”

“Spiders webs. Always amaze me.”

“Snowflakes.”

“Children's laughter.”

“The smell of lavender.”

“Thelma. Did I mention that already?”

“The sound of tea being poured into china cups”

“Holding hands beneath the sheets.”

“Fudge.”

“The dawn chorus.”

“The first flowers of spring.”

“And your most recent offering. Allowing me to realise I’m ready to meet you. I’m ready, God. Come and get me.”

“There. I think that covers it.”

Aubrey pulled his legs free from the sheets.

“Well what do you know. It’s a miracle.”

He sat himself up.

“I’m going to hang up now, God. Thanks for listening. I’ve got such a busy day planned. A fifteen stone Irish woman with red hair and hands like frozen sand paper is coming in to help me have a bath. I know, I know. Still plenty of things to live for eh? Hopefully I’ll be seeing you soon.”

*************************

Aubrey squinted at the bedside clock. It was four in the morning and the summer dawn was forcing its way in through a gap in the curtains.

“Oh no.” He said, as he realised he’d made it through another night. “Not again.”