Four o'clock Appointment with Joy

Sometimes the hour is board games, other times a makeshift picnic, and once or twice a discussion of classic movies.  A short trip to the garden outside the foyer entrance produces a promise of lilies in Joy’s wedding, however long into the future that might be.  This feat is matched, but with fruitless results, by Margaret’s attempts to learn social networking on Joy’s tablet computer.  Multiple strange status updates, coupled with laughter, come from the young lady the day of the euchre game played with made up rules.

Merriment pauses on the weekends, with Joy off at work, but to make up for those indiscretions, she dallies with leaving at five.  A nurse shoeing her out becomes more and more common by the end of the program.  Margaret barely notices the weeks move by, such is the ways of Joy, when an offhand comment overheard in the hall brings the finale straight to her attention.  The last Friday brings no happiness to Margaret and her small little room.  Her chair, pulled away from the door, holds Margaret prisoner with its crushing despair.

“Wanna learn to text?”

Joy’s perky words prick at Margaret’s ears and makes her head pop up to meet the voice.  The face of her soon to leave friend beams at Margaret, a shining light moving quickly to a dim glow.

“What’s wrong Margaret?”

Frowns crease Joy’s delicate features, marring the perfection Margaret sees virtually every day.  Now she hates herself even more, since she is causing such obvious pain to her almost gone friend.  Just like she always does.

“Margaret…  You are worrying me…”

Her tears fill her cheeks.  Eyes glassy with pain stare into eyes straining for understanding.

“Today in your last day.  An hour from now you will be gone from me.”

“I understand why.  You have a life to live.  Boys to see.  Your own grandparents to visit.”

“So, what would you like to do on your last day?”

Joy’s face goes slack at this question.  Hurt comes from her eyes.  Words slowly move out of her soul.

“Why… why would you think I was leaving?”

“I thought it was obvious from the first day that when the five weeks was up, I would be staying.”

“This isn’t our last day.  That moment will never happen.  Ever.”

“You are my friend.”

Both women let the tears fall off their cheeks and into the empty air.  Several seconds of emotions, frozen in their mind’s eyes, move them together into something else, something new, a love filled with beauty.

Flowing into each other, they hug and hold one another, with much the same gentleness and light touch as the first time they embraced those scant few weeks back.  Only now it is accompanied by understanding.

Heartbeats pass in time before the one become two again.  Margaret pulls a wad of crumpled up tissues from her pocket and tries to wipe away the damage of the last few minutes from her face.  No matter how much she dabs and pokes, it seems to take forever to find all the hurt drenching her.

As Margaret’s hands go on with the task, a new hand joins the fray.  Joy, valiantly smiling through her own tear-filled leftovers, majestically uses fresh tissues to complete the reformation of Margaret.

“And now you look as wonderful as the first day we met.  Just like you always should.”

“Thank you Joy.  Thank you.  And you were mentioning… texting?”