Best Birthday Ever

Submitted into Contest #1 in response to: Write a story about someone turning 100 years old.... view prompt

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It wasn’t meant to be like this? How does that song go……’I hope I die before I get old’?

I never really wanted to die though. Just thought I’d make the three score and ten and then just fade away until I disappeared. Nothing to be afraid of. Didn’t want pain, disease, dementia. Seen enough of that.

One hundred! It’s ridiculous.

Oh, I’ve seen them on the tele….. those clowns who think reaching one hundred is something to brag about, who bask in the glory of having made it, as though it’s some kind of personal achievement, like winning an Olympic Gold Medal. There are even ‘supercentenarians’! Ha! What is wrong with these people that they flaunt their fragile bodies and minds before millions. Have they no shame? Who would want to be one of those, unable to do anything more that sit in a chair in a nappy, being fed slops from a spoon like a baby, not able to understand anything at all, not recognizing their nearest and dearest. The kindest thing they could do is just die.

That’s another thing about getting old…..folk around you die off, falling like flies. You’re still there, but lonelier. Five children, only one left. Husband, gone. Not that that was a huge loss, mean nasty bastard he was. Brothers, sisters, all gone bar one, the youngest, a full 20 years younger than me and doesn’t she know it!

The one responsible for arranging this nightmare today. Supposedly a birthday ‘celebration’. Who wants it? Not me, that’s for sure. Having to dress up….there’s even a hairdresser coming round to primp me up. Have managed all these years without a hair dresser, why would I want one now. But would she be told? No.

Oh….here she is. That’s probably the hairdresser trailing behind looking harassed. Well, who wouldn’t? My sister has probably been on her back for days. That’s her, spreading havoc and riding roughshod over people’s feelings wherever she goes.

“Mary, Happy Birthday!”

I force a smile….better just keep it plastered on all day.

“Come on, why aren’t you ready? Where’s that outfit we picked out for you?”

Outfit? Outfit? Mother would turn in her grave. Never had an ‘outfit’ in my life. Never needed one. Even when the children got married I just pulled something clean and respectable out of the wardrobe. Easy. And I don’t see why I need an outfit now.

I try again to tell her, but it’s no use.

“Come on, let me help you.”

I don’t want to have her anywhere near me but decide to just give in. No point making a fuss. She’ll get her own way in the end. She always does, and did. I remember once, must have been, oh, fifty years ago now at least. Easy to figure out how old I was so she must have been about thirty. Wanted a washing machine. Went on and on about it. Came round with those big doe eyes of hers, really turned it on, had to have one, couldn’t manage without, not with the two kids and she’d seen the adverts and it would transform her life, she’s never have to spend hours hand-washing ever again.

She never did take to doing anything that resembled work. At her best lazing around with a ciggie dangling from the corner of her mouth, no class. We had a bit saved by then, not much…Ron had some overtime at the factory. She knew that, had her eye on it. Didn’t give up, went on and on.

“Maybe we should help her out” he said. “Fair do’s, she’s on her own with them kids.”

And whose fault was that? She drove her Bill out, with her constant demands and her lazy ways. But she wasn’t going to give up, I knew that. So he gave in, and handed over our money for her washing machine. Meant to be a ‘loan’ but of course we never saw any of it ever again. I knew we wouldn’t. The whole thing was typical of her. Oh, I could tell you some stories. She was spoilt as a child by mother and could twist father round her little finger.

“There. You look lovely.”

No, I don’t you stupid woman. I look like what I am, a scrag end. Scraggy arms, legs, skin pale and flaccid, wrinkles everywhere, hooded eyes, hair where it shouldn’t be and no hair where it should be, like on my head, where what there was lay, a nasty crepey grey

“Smile for the camera!” Will this torment ever end? All I want is for it to over, to be allowed to scuttle off to my room and close the door.

Well, I went through the motions and kept that smile on my face. Honestly, you would have been proud. Thought I’d made it, thought I was just twenty minutes from the end. Blown the candles out, needed no help with that, said ‘thank you’ over and over again. Even managed to tell a few stories about the past. It was an heroic performance, even if I say so myself.

And then she started.

“Mary, we need to talk. I am serious. Are you listening? There’s just me and you left now. All the others gone, God rest their souls. Of course my Jack and Betty are still with us, thank the Lord. All set up, I don’t need to worry about them anymore.”

Where was this leading? I had a pretty good idea.

“We have to face facts. None of us are getting any younger. We need to plan for the future”

Ha! There is no future if we’re not getting any younger, you silly person, just death staring us in the face.

“So, I think we should talk about your will, make sure everything is tied up, y’know? You don’t want to go popping off leaving a mess behind, do you now?”

I won’t mind a mess. I’ll be dead, gone, caput. I won’t be clearing any messes up ever again.

“I’m sorry Mary, but I have to say it. Have you made a will? There’s the house and …… everything…..money in the bank…..all of that. I am your only remaining relative after all. Might I assume that there will be a little windfall coming my way……?”

She’s gone too far this time.

“Yes and no. Yes, I have made a will, thank you for asking, and no, you cannot assume there will be a little windfall coming your way. In fact, there will be absolutely nothing coming your way. You’ve done nothing but steal off me your whole life. You still owe me for that washing machine, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“But….”

“No ‘buts’. You’ve sponged off others for years and years. You’ve never lifted a finger your whole life. Your children couldn’t wait to get away from you and don’t think I don’t know that you never see them now. They stay well away, and who can blame them. My money will be going to charity. All the arrangements are made. So if that’s all, I’m going to my bed.”

I stood up smartly [still quite sprightly you know!] and she moved quickly too.

“You bitch! After all I’ve done for you, making today happen so that you would have a lovely day, going out of my way to visit you, phoning you…..”

And now we know why.

I needed to get away but there she was as she always had been, blocking the way. It was just a gentle push, so that she’d get the message, but maybe it was a bit harder that I thought [don’t know my own strength!]. She made a horrible noise as she skidded to the floor, a vibration as she went down, and then, nothing. Just the screaming from the hairdresser a few feet away.

I’m sorry she had to see that, but overall, it was a very satisfied me as I finally got to walk away from her, knowing I had seen her off and she would never bother me again.

 

 

August 09, 2019 03:37

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