Home » The Elderly Gentleman Struggled from Bed and, Steadying Himself Against the Wall, Shuffled into the Next Room. In the Glow of the Night Lamp, He Peered with Dim Eyes at His Sleeping Wife: “She’s Not Moving! Has She Passed Away? – He Sank to His Knees. – Seems She’s Still Breathing.” He Stood, Shuffled into the Kitchen, Drank Some Kefir, Visited the Loo, Then Returned to His Room. He Lay Down, but Sleep Wouldn’t Come: “We’re Both Ninety—Lena and I. What a Long Life! We’ll Die Soon, and There’s No One Left Nearby. Our Daughter, Natasha, Passed Before She Hit Sixty. Maxim Died in Prison. There’s a Granddaughter, Oksana, but She’s Been Living in Germany for Over Twenty Years. She’s Forgotten Her Grandparents Completely. She Must Have Grown Children by Now.” He Didn’t Realise When He Drifted Off. He Woke to a Hand Touching His Face: “Are You Alive, Kostya?” Came a Barely Audible Voice. He Opened His Eyes. His Wife Was Bent Over Him. “What is it, Lena?” “I Saw You Weren’t Moving. I Got Frightened, Thought You’d Gone.” “Still Alive! Go Back to Bed!” There Were the Shuffling Footsteps, the Click of the Kitchen Light. Elena Ivanovna Drank Some Water, Went to the Loo, and Headed to Her Own Room. She Lay Down: “One Day I’ll Wake and He’ll Be Gone. What Will I Do? Or Maybe I’ll Go First. Kostya’s Already Arranged Our Funerals. Never Thought You Could Organise Your Own Send-Off. Then Again, Who Would Bury Us? Our Granddaughter’s Forgotten Us. Only Polina, the Neighbour, Pops In—She Has a Key. Grandpa Gives Her Ten Thousand from Our Pension Each Month. She Buys Our Groceries and Medicines. What Else Would We Spend Our Money On? We Can’t Even Get Down From the Fourth Floor by Ourselves Anymore.” Konstantin Leonidovich Opened His Eyes. The Sun Peeped Through the Window. He Stepped Out onto the Balcony and Saw the Green Cherry Tree Treetop. A Smile Broke Across His Face: “We’ve Made It to Another Summer!” He Went to See His Wife, Who Sat on Her Bed, Lost in Thought. “Lena, Stop Brooding! Come, I Want to Show You Something.” “Oh, I’ve Barely Any Strength Left!” Grumbled the Old Lady, Hauling Herself from Bed. “What Are You Planning Now?” “Come On, I’ll Help You!” Supporting Her by the Shoulders, He Led Her Out to the Balcony. “Look, the Cherry Tree’s Green! You Said We’d Never See Another Summer, and Here We Are!” “Oh, So True! The Sun’s Out Too.” They Sat Side by Side on the Balcony Bench. “Remember When I Took You to the Pictures for the First Time? Back in School. The Cherry Tree Had Just Budded that Day Too.” “How Could I Forget? How Many Years Ago That Was?” “Seventy-Plus… Seventy-Five.” For a Long Time, They Sat, Reminiscing. So Much Slips Away in Old Age, Sometimes Even What Happened Yesterday, but Youth Never Fades from Memory. “Oh, We’ve Chattered Away the Morning!” His Wife Shook Herself. “We’ve Not Had Breakfast Yet.” “Make Some Proper Tea, Lena! I’m Fed Up with All These Herbal Brews.” “We’re Not Supposed To.” “Just Make It Weak—Add a Spoonful of Sugar Each.” Konstantin Leonidovich Sipped His Diluted Tea, Eating a Little Cheese Sandwich, and Remembered When Breakfast Meant Strong, Sweet Tea with Pasties or Meat Pies. Their Neighbour, Polina, Popped In. She Smiled in Approval: “How Are You Both Doing?” “What Business Can Two Ninety-Year-Olds Have?” He Quipped. “If You’re Joking, All Is Well. Need Me to Pick Anything Up?” “Polina, Buy Us Some Meat!” Requested Konstantin Leonidovich. “You’re Not Supposed To, Are You?” “Chicken’s Allowed.” “Alright, I’ll Cook You Chicken Noodle Soup!” “Polina, Could You Pick Up Something For My Heart?” Asked His Wife. “Elena Ivanovna, I Only Got You Some Recently.” “I’ve Run Out.” “Shall I Call the Doctor?” “No Need.” Polina Cleared the Table, Washed Up, and Left. “Lena, Let’s Go Out on the Balcony,” Suggested Her Husband. “Let’s Soak Up Some Sun.” “Let’s Go! No Point Sitting in This Stuffy Flat.” Polina Returned, Stepped onto the Balcony: “Missing the Sunshine, Are You?” “It’s Lovely Here, Polina!” Elena Ivanovna Beamed. “I’ll Bring You Some Porridge and Then Start Soup for Lunch.” “She’s a Good Woman,” Said Konstantin as She Left. “Where Would We Be Without Her?” “And All We Give Her Is Ten Thousand a Month.” “Lena, The Flat’s Willed to Her—The Notary Confirmed It.” “She Doesn’t Know That.” They Stayed on the Balcony Until Lunch. The Chicken Soup Was Delicious, with Finely Cut Meat and Mashed Potatoes. “That’s How I Made Soup for Natasha and Maxim When They Were Small,” Elena Ivanovna Recalled. “And Now, In Our Old Age, Strangers Cook for Us.” Sighed Her Husband. “It’s Just Our Lot, Kostya. When We Die, Nobody Will Even Cry.” “Enough, Lena, Let’s Not Dwell. Let’s Have a Nap!” “Kostya, They Say: ‘Old Folk Are Like Little Ones.’ We Have Pureed Soup, Nap Time, an Afternoon Snack…” Konstantin Leonidovich Dozed but Soon Woke; He Couldn’t Sleep—Maybe It Was the Weather? He Stepped Into the Kitchen. On the Table, He Found Two Glasses of Juice, Thoughtfully Set Out by Polina. He Picked Them Up and Headed Carefully to His Wife’s Room. She Was Sitting on the Bed, Staring Out the Window. “Why So Glum, Lena?” He Smiled. “Here, Have Some Juice.” She Took a Sip: “You Can’t Sleep Either?” “The Weather—My Blood Pressure’s Up.” “I’ve Felt Off All Day,” Elena Ivanovna Shook Her Head Sadly. “I Don’t Think I’ve Much Time Left. Give Me a Proper Send-Off.” “Don’t Be Silly, Lena. What Would I Do Without You?” “One of Us Will Go First, Either Way.” “That’s Enough! Let’s Go to the Balcony!” They Stayed There Until Evening. Polina Made Syrniki for Supper. They Ate and Watched the Telly as Usual, Only Old British Comedies and Cartoons These Days—Anything New Was Hard to Follow. Tonight, They Managed Just One Cartoon. Elena Ivanovna Got Up: “I’m Off to Bed—So Tired Tonight.” “Then I’ll Join You.” “Let Me Have a Good Look at You First!” She Suddenly Asked. “Why?” “Just Because.” They Looked at Each Other for a Long Time—Perhaps Remembering Their Youth, When Everything Was Still Ahead. “I’ll Walk You to Your Bed,” She Said, Taking His Arm, and Slowly Led Him Off. He Tucked Her In, Went to His Own Room, But His Heart Was Heavier than Ever. He Thought He Didn’t Sleep, but the Digital Clock Read Two in the Morning. He Rose and Went to His Wife’s Room. She Was Staring at the Ceiling, Eyes Wide Open. “Lena!” He Took Her Hand. It Was Cold. “Lena, What’s Happened? Le-e-na!” Suddenly, He Himself Struggled for Breath. He Barely Made It to His Room, Put Their Prepared Documents on the Desk, Then Returned to His Wife. He Gazed at Her Face for a Long Time, Lay Down Beside Her, and Closed His Eyes. He Saw Lena, Young and Beautiful as Seventy-Five Years Ago, Walking Towards a Distant, Shining Light. He Rushed After, Caught Up, Took Her Hand… In the Morning, Polina Entered Their Bedroom. They Lay Side by Side, Identical, Contented Smiles on Their Faces. When She Came to Her Senses, She Rang for an Ambulance. The Doctor Examined Them and Shook His Head in Amazement: “They Passed On Together. Must Have Loved Each Other Deeply.” They Were Taken Away. Polina Sank, Exhausted, onto a Chair by the Table—and Then Spotted the Burial Agreement and… a Will in Her Name. She Buried Her Head in Her Hands and Burst Into Tears.

The Elderly Gentleman Struggled from Bed and, Steadying Himself Against the Wall, Shuffled into the Next Room. In the Glow of the Night Lamp, He Peered with Dim Eyes at His Sleeping Wife: “She’s Not Moving! Has She Passed Away? – He Sank to His Knees. – Seems She’s Still Breathing.” He Stood, Shuffled into the Kitchen, Drank Some Kefir, Visited the Loo, Then Returned to His Room. He Lay Down, but Sleep Wouldn’t Come: “We’re Both Ninety—Lena and I. What a Long Life! We’ll Die Soon, and There’s No One Left Nearby. Our Daughter, Natasha, Passed Before She Hit Sixty. Maxim Died in Prison. There’s a Granddaughter, Oksana, but She’s Been Living in Germany for Over Twenty Years. She’s Forgotten Her Grandparents Completely. She Must Have Grown Children by Now.” He Didn’t Realise When He Drifted Off. He Woke to a Hand Touching His Face: “Are You Alive, Kostya?” Came a Barely Audible Voice. He Opened His Eyes. His Wife Was Bent Over Him. “What is it, Lena?” “I Saw You Weren’t Moving. I Got Frightened, Thought You’d Gone.” “Still Alive! Go Back to Bed!” There Were the Shuffling Footsteps, the Click of the Kitchen Light. Elena Ivanovna Drank Some Water, Went to the Loo, and Headed to Her Own Room. She Lay Down: “One Day I’ll Wake and He’ll Be Gone. What Will I Do? Or Maybe I’ll Go First. Kostya’s Already Arranged Our Funerals. Never Thought You Could Organise Your Own Send-Off. Then Again, Who Would Bury Us? Our Granddaughter’s Forgotten Us. Only Polina, the Neighbour, Pops In—She Has a Key. Grandpa Gives Her Ten Thousand from Our Pension Each Month. She Buys Our Groceries and Medicines. What Else Would We Spend Our Money On? We Can’t Even Get Down From the Fourth Floor by Ourselves Anymore.” Konstantin Leonidovich Opened His Eyes. The Sun Peeped Through the Window. He Stepped Out onto the Balcony and Saw the Green Cherry Tree Treetop. A Smile Broke Across His Face: “We’ve Made It to Another Summer!” He Went to See His Wife, Who Sat on Her Bed, Lost in Thought. “Lena, Stop Brooding! Come, I Want to Show You Something.” “Oh, I’ve Barely Any Strength Left!” Grumbled the Old Lady, Hauling Herself from Bed. “What Are You Planning Now?” “Come On, I’ll Help You!” Supporting Her by the Shoulders, He Led Her Out to the Balcony. “Look, the Cherry Tree’s Green! You Said We’d Never See Another Summer, and Here We Are!” “Oh, So True! The Sun’s Out Too.” They Sat Side by Side on the Balcony Bench. “Remember When I Took You to the Pictures for the First Time? Back in School. The Cherry Tree Had Just Budded that Day Too.” “How Could I Forget? How Many Years Ago That Was?” “Seventy-Plus… Seventy-Five.” For a Long Time, They Sat, Reminiscing. So Much Slips Away in Old Age, Sometimes Even What Happened Yesterday, but Youth Never Fades from Memory. “Oh, We’ve Chattered Away the Morning!” His Wife Shook Herself. “We’ve Not Had Breakfast Yet.” “Make Some Proper Tea, Lena! I’m Fed Up with All These Herbal Brews.” “We’re Not Supposed To.” “Just Make It Weak—Add a Spoonful of Sugar Each.” Konstantin Leonidovich Sipped His Diluted Tea, Eating a Little Cheese Sandwich, and Remembered When Breakfast Meant Strong, Sweet Tea with Pasties or Meat Pies. Their Neighbour, Polina, Popped In. She Smiled in Approval: “How Are You Both Doing?” “What Business Can Two Ninety-Year-Olds Have?” He Quipped. “If You’re Joking, All Is Well. Need Me to Pick Anything Up?” “Polina, Buy Us Some Meat!” Requested Konstantin Leonidovich. “You’re Not Supposed To, Are You?” “Chicken’s Allowed.” “Alright, I’ll Cook You Chicken Noodle Soup!” “Polina, Could You Pick Up Something For My Heart?” Asked His Wife. “Elena Ivanovna, I Only Got You Some Recently.” “I’ve Run Out.” “Shall I Call the Doctor?” “No Need.” Polina Cleared the Table, Washed Up, and Left. “Lena, Let’s Go Out on the Balcony,” Suggested Her Husband. “Let’s Soak Up Some Sun.” “Let’s Go! No Point Sitting in This Stuffy Flat.” Polina Returned, Stepped onto the Balcony: “Missing the Sunshine, Are You?” “It’s Lovely Here, Polina!” Elena Ivanovna Beamed. “I’ll Bring You Some Porridge and Then Start Soup for Lunch.” “She’s a Good Woman,” Said Konstantin as She Left. “Where Would We Be Without Her?” “And All We Give Her Is Ten Thousand a Month.” “Lena, The Flat’s Willed to Her—The Notary Confirmed It.” “She Doesn’t Know That.” They Stayed on the Balcony Until Lunch. The Chicken Soup Was Delicious, with Finely Cut Meat and Mashed Potatoes. “That’s How I Made Soup for Natasha and Maxim When They Were Small,” Elena Ivanovna Recalled. “And Now, In Our Old Age, Strangers Cook for Us.” Sighed Her Husband. “It’s Just Our Lot, Kostya. When We Die, Nobody Will Even Cry.” “Enough, Lena, Let’s Not Dwell. Let’s Have a Nap!” “Kostya, They Say: ‘Old Folk Are Like Little Ones.’ We Have Pureed Soup, Nap Time, an Afternoon Snack…” Konstantin Leonidovich Dozed but Soon Woke; He Couldn’t Sleep—Maybe It Was the Weather? He Stepped Into the Kitchen. On the Table, He Found Two Glasses of Juice, Thoughtfully Set Out by Polina. He Picked Them Up and Headed Carefully to His Wife’s Room. She Was Sitting on the Bed, Staring Out the Window. “Why So Glum, Lena?” He Smiled. “Here, Have Some Juice.” She Took a Sip: “You Can’t Sleep Either?” “The Weather—My Blood Pressure’s Up.” “I’ve Felt Off All Day,” Elena Ivanovna Shook Her Head Sadly. “I Don’t Think I’ve Much Time Left. Give Me a Proper Send-Off.” “Don’t Be Silly, Lena. What Would I Do Without You?” “One of Us Will Go First, Either Way.” “That’s Enough! Let’s Go to the Balcony!” They Stayed There Until Evening. Polina Made Syrniki for Supper. They Ate and Watched the Telly as Usual, Only Old British Comedies and Cartoons These Days—Anything New Was Hard to Follow. Tonight, They Managed Just One Cartoon. Elena Ivanovna Got Up: “I’m Off to Bed—So Tired Tonight.” “Then I’ll Join You.” “Let Me Have a Good Look at You First!” She Suddenly Asked. “Why?” “Just Because.” They Looked at Each Other for a Long Time—Perhaps Remembering Their Youth, When Everything Was Still Ahead. “I’ll Walk You to Your Bed,” She Said, Taking His Arm, and Slowly Led Him Off. He Tucked Her In, Went to His Own Room, But His Heart Was Heavier than Ever. He Thought He Didn’t Sleep, but the Digital Clock Read Two in the Morning. He Rose and Went to His Wife’s Room. She Was Staring at the Ceiling, Eyes Wide Open. “Lena!” He Took Her Hand. It Was Cold. “Lena, What’s Happened? Le-e-na!” Suddenly, He Himself Struggled for Breath. He Barely Made It to His Room, Put Their Prepared Documents on the Desk, Then Returned to His Wife. He Gazed at Her Face for a Long Time, Lay Down Beside Her, and Closed His Eyes. He Saw Lena, Young and Beautiful as Seventy-Five Years Ago, Walking Towards a Distant, Shining Light. He Rushed After, Caught Up, Took Her Hand… In the Morning, Polina Entered Their Bedroom. They Lay Side by Side, Identical, Contented Smiles on Their Faces. When She Came to Her Senses, She Rang for an Ambulance. The Doctor Examined Them and Shook His Head in Amazement: “They Passed On Together. Must Have Loved Each Other Deeply.” They Were Taken Away. Polina Sank, Exhausted, onto a Chair by the Table—and Then Spotted the Burial Agreement and… a Will in Her Name. She Buried Her Head in Her Hands and Burst Into Tears.

Author Walton MerrittReading 8 minViews 13

The old man heaved himself out of bed, steadying himself against the wall as he shuffled into the next room. In the haze of the night lamp, his failing eyes squinted at his wife, lying there so terribly still.
Not moving. Has she gone already? He dropped to his knees. No seems shes breathing.
He pulled himself up and drifted slowly to the kitchen. He drank a glass of milk, visited the toilet, then wandered to his room.
He lay on his bed but sleep wouldnt come.
Were ninety, both of us now. How many years have we lived? It wont be long before were gone, and theres no one here. Our daughter, Alice, died before she turned sixty. Michael passed away in prison. Theres our granddaughter, Sophie, but shes off in Scotland, hasnt visited in over twenty years. Probably has children of her own by now. Forgotten her gran and granddad.
He didnt remember falling asleep.
He woke to a gentle touch.
Arthur, are you there? came a voice, thin as air.
He opened his eyes. His wife leaned over him.
Is that you, Edith?
Saw you werent moving. Got frightened, thought youd gone.
Still breathing! Go on, get back to bed.
He heard her shuffling steps, the click of a switch on in the kitchen.
Edith poured herself a glass of water, made her way to the loo and then to her room. She lay down, mind spinning:
One day Ill wake, and hell be dead beside me. Or maybe Ill go first. Arthurs already arranged for our funerals. Imagine that, planning your own send-off. In a way its sensible. Whod bury us now? Sophies long forgotten us. Only the neighbour, Pauline, pops in. Shes got a key. Arthur gives her a hundred quid a month from our pension. She brings groceries and medicine. What else would we use money for? We cant even manage the stairs anymore, not from the fourth floor.
Arthur blinked at the morning sun peeking through the window. He went out onto the tiny balcony and spied the topmost bough of a hawthorn tree, brilliant and green. A long-forgotten smile stretched across his face.
We made it to summer!
He checked on Edith; she was sitting on her bed, thoughtful.
Edith, stop moping! Come, let me show you something.
Oh, dont have the strengthwhats on your mind now?
Just come, come on.
He supported her frail shoulders till they made it to the balcony.
See, the hawthorns gone all green! You said we wouldnt see another summer. But look at that!
Goodness, it has! And the suns out.
They perched side by side on the bench out there.
Remember how I took you to the pictures? When we were still in school. The hawthorn was blossoming that evening, too.
Who could forget a thing like that? How many years since then?
Seventy-five and a bit.
They sat a long time, nibbling on memories. Old age erases so muchsometimes yesterday escapes youbut youth never seems to fade.
Oh, were nattering away! Edith shook herself. Not had breakfast, have we?
Brew us some proper tea, would you, Edith? Im sick of this herbal stuff.
But its not good for us.
The barest, just a hint, and a spoonful of sugar each.
Arthur sipped his weak tea, chasing a sliver of cheese on a bit of bread, thinking on mornings gone: strong, sweet tea with jam tarts or fried dough.
Pauline popped her head in, smiling.
How are you both today?
How do you think, at ninety? Arthur joked.
If youre cracking jokes, things cant be too bad! What do you need from the shops?
Pauline, grab us some meat! Arthur asked.
Should you really?
A bit of chickens not lethal.
Alright, Ill make you some noodle soup.
Pauline, something for the old ticker, please Edith reminded.
Edith, I just bought you some last week.
All gone.
Maybe get the doctor in?
No need.
Pauline tidied up and vanished.
Edith, lets sit on the balcony, said Arthur. Get some sun.
Yes, lets. No sense sitting in this stuffiness.
Pauline returned, peeking round the balcony door,
You two missing the sunshine then?
Oh, its lovely here, Pauline! Edith beamed.
Right, Ill bring you your porridge out, and get that soup going for lunch.
Good woman, Arthur watched her go. What would we do without her?
And you only give her a hundred a month.
Edith, we left her the flat. Got that in writing at the solicitors, remember.
She hasnt a clue.
They sat in that patch of sunlight until lunch, when Pauline appeared with fragrant chicken soup, full of tiny chopped meat and squashed potato.
I always made it like this for Alice and Michael when they were little, Edith recalled.
Now its strangers who cook for us, Arthur sighed.
Must be our fate, Arthur. Well go, and no one will shed a tear.
Thats enough, Edith. Lets nap awhile!
They say, Old age is second childhood, and were proof: mashed soup, afternoon naps, snack at four.
Arthur dozed, but it was uneasy. Maybe the weather was turning. He slipped to the kitchen: two glasses of juice on the table, set out by Pauline with her usual care.
He took both, steadying himself, and brought them to Edith, who sat gazing out.
Whats got you down, Edith? Here, have a bit of juice.
She took a sip.
You couldnt sleep either?
Blame the weather. Blood pressures jumping.
Ive felt off since morning, Edith muttered as if resigned, Feels like Im almost done here. Remember to put me to rest properly, Arthur.
Dont talk nonsense, Edith. How am I to live without you?
One of usll have to go first, anyway.
Enough, lets get some more air.
They lingered out there till evening. Pauline brought cheese scones, which they ate watching TV. Every night they watched TV, never really following the newer shows. So they stuck to British comedies and old childrens cartoons.
That night, just one cartoon. Edith rose, exhausted.
Ill go to bed.
Ill come too.
Let me look at you a bit, Arthur, she asked suddenly.
What for?
Just let me.
They stared at each other a long time, remembering a future that once seemed endless.
Ill walk you to your bed.
Edith took her husbands arm, and together they moved along, ever so slowly. Arthur gently tucked her in, then returned to his own room, heart heavy as stone. He failed to sleep, or perhaps wasnt asleep at all. The digital clock blinked 2:00am. He stood, made his way to Ediths room.
She was lying there, eyes open, fixed on the ceiling.
Edith!
He took her hand. It was cold.
Edith, please! Ediiith!
And then, his own breath caught, short and sharp. He stumbled to his desk, put the folder of papers in plain sight, and returned to his wife. He watched her face for a long time. Then lay down beside her, shutting his eyes.
Suddenly, he saw Edith, young and lovely again, walking into the light, far, far ahead. He ran after her, caught up, and took her hand
In the morning, Pauline let herself in. They were side by side, identical smiles etched on their faces. When she came to herself, Pauline rang for the ambulance.
The doctor came, shaking his head in disbelief:
Went together. They mustve truly loved each other.
They were taken away. Pauline slumped at the table and there she saw their funeral instructionsand the deed, left to her.
Her head dropped into her arms and tears followedquiet, bewildered, real.