One last Job to Do

One Last Job to Do

“There was an old woman named Nell 

Who tripped on a snail, fell over the pail,

And fell down a long, dark well.

As she was falling she was was heard to exclaim,”

 Well bust my buttons and what a helluva of a shame!”

Charlotte threw her pen across the room. This was her tenth try at writing a poem for the writing group she had decided to go to. It was rubbish. Pure and simple, rubbish. Charlotte really didn’t want to write poetry, or anything else really. But being retired now for more years than she wanted to think about, she knew it was a good thing, even a healthy thing, to try new activities that would keep her brain working. At 81, her brain still worked perfectly well. Her body even worked well, although not perfectly well, she had to admit. that She was even using a pen to write the bloody poetry, not her computer. Trying to do it the old fashioned way, the way she used to do it when she was a girl, so long ago.

The trouble was, Charlotte was bored with the things that most of the other people in the retirement community where she lived liked to do. Those things were fine for them. They were old. But for herself, Charlotte had so many other things she’d rather do. But one had to fit in she’d been told by her son and her daughter, and even her grandchildren. Although the grandchildren already knew that Charlotte, Beezy as she was known to them, would never fit in with everyone else in this residential community. She liked many of the other residents here. She even found some of them interesting, and fun, in a tame sort of way. Charlotte was trying, she really was. The writing group, the art group, the walking group and even the sing along group. She had promised her family that she would do her best to take it easy, get along, and not make any waves. Although her daughter and son had a strong suspicion that their mom had had her fingers crossed behind her back when they had asked her to promise that.

The retirement community was a nice place, Charlotte had not complaints in that department. She knew that as much as she would have loved to have stayed in her little house near the Blue Ridge mountains, right on the Shenandoah River, that wasn’t something her grown children approved of. She understood that. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be a little put out. She was 81, true, but her mind was still sharp. She still walked everyday, and rode her bike several times a week. Why, she even did yoga every morning. She had been taught, many years ago when she had started working, that you needed to keep your body moving, and as strong as possible. She had certainly needed that while her kids were young. They had run her ragged. Charlotte had worked before she had married Ian, and up until her son was born. Then she had taken some years off from regular work, although there had been a few times when they had needed just her expertise for a particular job. Then when the kids had started high school, she had gone back to work, full-time. More correctly, work had come looking for her., and had had full-time plans.

The work had been so interesting too. Not like so many other women she had known, especially during her children’s school years when she had helped out with everything from bake sales to the PTA. She thought back to some of the women she had known. All lovely people, well, most of them, but so boring! Whew, she had thought that if all you were thinking about was how to decorate your house and what to make for dinner, then she was going to run for the hills. That was about the time she had started both running and biking to stay in shape. Their house may not have been the most up to date, or even as clean, but the children, and Ian had been happy. They had dogs running in and out, along with the kids, friends and a wide assortment of people.

Charlotte found she had been daydreaming about the past when she had thrown that pen down. That seemed to happen a bit more than it used to, but she had so many wonderful memories to remember, both with her family, her dear friends, and all of her interests. She thought back to work too. There were many good memories, but the nature of her work had made for some dark memories too. She bet those women who had the perfectly decorated houses, and well dressed kids, probably didn’t have to worry about some of the memories that she couldn’t forget. No, she was sure that they didn’t.

When you are 81, or any age number probably greater than 70, you are basically invisible to people. You could go to the stores, and the cashiers called you “honey”. You could go to the doctor and everyone had that sing-song sound to their voice that made can make most older people cringe and grind their teeth at the same time. But Charlotte tried very hard not to cringe or grind her teeth. She smiled and thought about her next assignment, that got her mind off of anything that bothered her. She had been thinking about that while she had been writing that stupid poem. 

Too bad the staff at the retirement community, and her family, didn’t realize that she had been in contact with her contacts at The Agency. Sneaky stuff, she thought to herself. Very sneaky stuff. It made her heart race a little, but not too much, and got her juices flowing, but again, not too much. How surprised everyone would be when she told them that she needed to be gone from the her apartment for a couple weeks. She’d say she was visiting family. Then to her family she would need to come up with a completely different narrative. They knew her surreptitious ways, and would look at her with slits for their eyes, trying to figure out what she was up to. That was ok, it would help her keep supple and ready for the stealthy things she more than likely would be doing.

If her new friends who lived around her at the retirement community asked, she couldn’t tell them the truth, that might give her next door neighbor a heart attack. A literal heart attack, since he had already had two heartaches. She couldn’t tell Agnus her neighbor on the other side, either, as she would become so anxious that she might need more sedatives than what she already took. Charlotte might be able to tell Edith though. Edith didn’t really know who she was, or where she was, or what day it was. Yes, Edith would be the perfect person to tell. That way, she could tell her family that she had let people know what she would be doing. It was only a little white lie anyway. She had told so many lies over the many years of work. There had been so few people you could either trust, or who you wanted to keep safe. The less people who knew the truth, the better.

Charlotte picked up the pen from the floor, and set it on the table. She got up, got her key and went out of her apartment to walk down the hall to the next building where Edith’s room was, in the memory care section. Charlotte kind liked the sound of a place called “the memory care section.”Someone took care of memories. She wasn’t sure what they would like her memories though. Some of them had been dark, scary, and things that most people might not even understand.

She strolled in a nonchalant way to Edith’s room. Somehow, a nonchalant stroll meant she wasn’t revealing anything important to someone else. Although the staff, and the other residents in the memory car unit wouldn’t even give her a second look. When she got there, Charlotte pushed the button to be let into the locked ward, and walked down the hall to Edith’s room. She saw the door was ajar, and peaked inside. Edith was sitting by her window looking out at the birds on the bird feeder outdoors. No one else was there. That was perfect for what Charlotte wanted to talk about to Edith.

“Edith, hi! It’s Charlotte. I came to visit for a little while, is that ok?” 

Edith turned and looked at Charlotte, with a beatific smile. “Of course, dear, I love company. Come sit down. I’m sure that there will be tea or something here soon for us to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need a thing, Edith. I just wanted to come say hi and tell you about a little trip I’m planning on going on. Would you like to hear about it?”

“That would be lovely! I love trips. Did I ever tell you about my trip out west when I was a young girl? I’m sure I haven’t. I must have been somewhere around ten. No, maybe twelve. But I couldn’t have been that old, because when I was twelve I broke my nose, and I think it was before that. Let me think, or was that….”

“Edith, that sounds like a wonderful story, but I do need to get back to my apartment soon so I can finish the poem I’m writing for the writing group. So let me just tell you about my trip. Then another time you can tell me about your trip out west.” Charlotte hated to cut Edith off, but she also knew that she might go on and on trying to decide how old she had been when she took that trip out west.

“Oh, fine, dear, just have a seat. What did you say your name was? I did mention that I think tea and snack will come soon?” Edith looked at Charlotte, with such a sweet smile, that Charlotte hated to be using her as her alibi.

“Fine, I’ll just tell you the brief outline of what I’ll be doing and where I’m going. I like to let my friends know about where I’ll be going, so no one will worry.” 

“Of course, I’m excited to hear about your trip. Did I tell you about when I went out west…?

Charlotte quickly started talking a little faster, and quieter than usual so that poor Edith might miss a lot of what she was saying. 

“Well, you know, Edith, that I worked for the government for many, many years? Of course you remember that. I worked from right after college up until not long ago. It seems like not long ago. But actually, in a way, I still work for them, but more on an, “as needed” basis. Well, they got in touch recently and told me that it was one of those situations. It was an “as needed” assignment. I am the oldest person working for the The Agency now, especially in a position where I travel. They thought I was too old for a while, but then I showed all those people behind their desks, that I still had what it takes.”

Edith looked at Charlotte a little blankly, and confusedly. “What do you still have, dear? What does it take? Or are you taking something? I’m a little confused on that point.”

“Yes, well, you see, Edith, I’ve been a spy, working for the CIA for almost thirty years! That is quite a record, and I’m quite proud of it. I can still do my jujitsu, although I admit I’m not quite as strong as I used to be, and not quite as fast. But I make up for that will my wealth of knowledge, and my being invisible.”

“Invisible, dear? I can see you clear as day. What was your nameagain?” Edith looked as though she was getting tired from this conversation, which suited Charlotte just fine.

“Charlotte. My name is Charlotte, dear. I just mean that us old ladies are somewhat invisible.We look so harmless, and sweet. No one ever seems to think that we could be picking up, or delivering a package, or information, or anything that a spy does. I’ve done it all you see. I’ve travelled all over the whole world, and been to places you may have never heard of.” She sighed for a moment, and added, very quietly, “I’ve seen some terrible things too. The worst things that people can do to other people. I’ve seen so many things.”

Edith smiled broadly. “Oh, that’s lovely my dear. I’m so glad you’ve gotten to see so many places. I went out west one time when I was young. Have I told you about that story?”

Charlotte got up from her chair next to Edith, and smiled at her. She reached out and took Edith’s hand. 

“ Bye, Edith. I hope I see you again, I would love to hear about your western adventure. But I need to go right now. I am pretty sure it will be my last job. It feels like my last job. I just wanted someone to know a little bit of what I’ve done. It would take days to tell it all. I can’t tell you where I’m going, dear, but it is a long way from here, and so very different.”

With that, Charlotte left Edith’s room and headed back to her own apartment. She didn’t have much to pack, she knew all that would be taken care of for her. They would pick her up tomorrow morning. She sat down and picked up her pen. This time, instead of writing a poem, she wrote a letter to her beloved family. She needed to tell them what she had done all these years, and that she had one last job to do.