Shores of Beginnings (Noha ElNashar, Visionaries)

Shores of Beginnings

After a long day of unpacking and paperwork, Frank let the nurse guide him to his bed. He tried to imagine himself having a good time in this place, but it just didn’t seem possible. After all it was a nursing home. His children grew too busy to look after him, and he, not wanting them to feel hindered by his presence, offered that they would take him to a nursing home. Resistance, he expected; acquiesce, he got. When they dropped him off, he knew it would be the last time he saw them, so he made it his goal to make as much friends as he possibly could to keep him company for however long it is that is left for him. But, until now, he hasn’t laid eyes on a potential friend.

Then he saw him. He was sitting on his bed, crouched near his pillow and staring at the ceiling, as if imagining the sun and the moon and the constellations he doesn’t get to see anymore. For a fraction of a second, he pictured himself that way, but then he regained his tenacity. He was not going to give in to loneliness—or let him, whoever he is, be swallowed by it, either. He stopped for a second, and the nurse supporting his weight looked up with concern.

“Are you okay, Frank? Do you need something?” The nurse asked with a lilt in her voice that almost made him sway to the rhythm.

He shook his head and pointed to the vacant bed to his right, “Can I take this bed? I like it here. I think I will make some friends here,” he mumbled the last part, eyeing the man who is too deep in thinking about the sky to notice his new company.

“Uhh, well, sure. Let me make it comfortable for you then I can go change your data down at the office.”

Frank stood still while she did her best to make the bed comfy. All the while he watched the old man who was now looking at the nurse, following her every movement with his eyes. He looked curious and detached at the same time. Like he used to be curious and energetic and spontaneous, but life wore him down and only small parts of what he was still clung to his new self. When the nurse was done, she beckoned to Frank and made sure he was okay with his new bed. Then she left, leaving him with the other man.

Frank was silent for a while, trying to find a snarky comment or anything to say to catch his attention, but he failed. So, he decided to start the old-fashioned way.

“Hello, I’m Frank.” He said with a smile drawn on his lips. He expected the other to just stay immersed in his reverie and was surprised when he actually turned his head and nodded, “Charles.”

“Charles,” Frank repeated. “I’ve always loved that name. In fact, I wanted to name my first-born child ‘Charles’, but my wife was a little stubborn.” He smiled a little to himself, thinking about Edith. He knew he missed her deeply. He would always share his wishes with her, and she would do whatever she could to make them come true. He wished he had started repaying her before it was too late.

“Stubborn, eh?”  Charles inquired. “What did you name him then?”

Frank could see the hints of a smile forming on Charles’s lips, and that made his heart soar. He was making progress. “We named him Brandon. Then Eleanor came along. And then Vanessa.” He paused for a second then said, “They are really good kids.”

Charles eyed him doubtfully, “Why are you here then, if they’re, as you claim, good kids?’

“I will ignore your rude comments.” Frank chuckled. “And I will answer your question. I am here because I grew too old for them to be able to consistently take care of me. They have their own lives after all. And sometimes, you just have to be considerate.”

Charles nodded and kept nodding, and Frank was relieved that Charles couldn’t tell he was lying. It would be too painful for him to explain how disappointed he was in his children. But after all he loved them deeply; he just wished they loved him as much as he did.

“Why are you here? Where are your children?” Frank prompted, trying to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Haven’t gotten any.” Charles said monotonously, and Frank knew he hit a spot he shouldn’t have. So, trying to make the situation better, he said, “What about a wife? Have you gotten any?”

At that, Charles stopped twirling the loose string protruding from the pillow and stared at Frank with an expression that was quite unreadable. He smiled, but his smile was one that carried years of pain and suffering and regret and bleakness that Frank couldn’t fathom. Instead of urging him to speak, he decided to let Charles talk whenever he felt ready.

“She was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Charles said with a wide grin and a glimmer in his eyes. “I loved her with every piece of my body; I was willing to do anything to spend just a little more time with her.” His smile started to fade, and tears began welling in his eyes. “Even now, I look up at the ceiling and picture her face plastered on it. That way I can stare at her and have silent conversations with her that only we can understand.”

Sensing Charles’s imminent emotional breakdown, Frank started, “She really sounds like a good person. I’m sure she took good care of you. Would you mind telling me her name?”

“Janet,” Charles whispered.

Frank smiled at how innocent Charles looked when he said her name. “What is your best memory of her?”

“1975.” He announced. “She was a Broadway addict; so when the Rocky Horror Show came out, I took her to New York, got us both tickets to the show, and I spent the entire evening watching how happy she was. She literally never stopped smiling the whole time.” Charles laughed. “The main character’s name was Janet. Oh, how she loved that scene where they sang ‘Dammit, Janet’! She used to say it reminded her of us.” He shook his head while trying to hide his smile. “She said I would make a perfect Brad because I was so clumsy. And even though the show wasn’t that good, she made it all worthwhile. As for her, she was at Broadway; she didn’t even care what she was watching.”

Frank watched Charles reminisce and noticed how young he looked talking about her. He knew Janet was his muse, and it isn’t easy losing your muse. You had to dig deep inside you, trying to conjure a new one. And he knew not everyone is that fortunate.

“What happened to her then?” Frank inquired cautiously.

“She died shortly after,” Charles paused. “Lung cancer.”

Frank just nodded, knowing that nothing he said would mend Charles’s wounds.

“I then retreated to my little shell, trying to sort out my life. I decided she was the one for me and I decided to honor her by never marrying again. Every year, in her memorial, I fly to New York and buy tickets to any Broadway show and pretend she is there with me. I honestly think I have seen every Broadway show out there. I continued to do so since she died in 1980. Except this year though. This year, I came here.”

“You cam here? Willingly?”

“Yes.” Charles admitted. “What else do I have left? The memory of her beautiful spirit is starting to fade, I have no children, I’m too old to work or experience new adventures. I’m just too tired. I don’t want to be staying at home when the realization dawns over me that I can’t even remember the tiniest details about her.”

“And how is it any different here? You will still grow old.”

“At least, I will do it with a friend. I have no friends, Frank. You have no idea how hard it is to spend 40 years of your life invested in one thought and then watch it slip away while you stand, empty-handed and unable to stop it from happening.” Charles insisted. “I came here looking for a friend, and I still am.”

Frank looked at him deeply, thinking about the meanings behind his words. He will get his chance here. He will have a friend here. He believed that friendships can be made at any point in life; he just thought he would have to convince the other person of letting go and opening up. But, Charles, contrary to what he thought, was looking for the same thing. Maybe, they both could be each other’s chance at salvation.

“Would you be my friend, Frank?” Charles questioned with a grin plastered on his mouth.

“It would be an honor,” Frank affirmed, returning Charles’s now-happy grin with one of his own.