Chapter 1 #2
At present, four folding tables and matching chairs occupied the rectangular room.
Standard fire safety protocol and building maps were pinned to the wall at both exits.
A fire extinguisher hung beside the door.
Several mobile shelving units contained a collection of battered paperbacks and board games I’d enjoyed as a child.
Scrabble, checkers, Sorry, Yahtzee, and more.
Another shelf contained an array of crafting materials, organized in white plastic bins.
Two elderly gentlemen played backgammon at one table, a trio of women surrounded another, scrapbooking and cackling like hens.
Alone in the corner, a cardigan-wearing man with a shiny pate surrounded by a ring of neatly trimmed gray hair, chicken pecked at a laptop, his youthful eyes gleaming and reflecting the light of the screen.
“Do you know how many people you’re expecting?” Aaron asked.
“Not exactly. It will be a small affair. Maybe a dozen?”
Kitty promised to scrounge up a few of Hazel’s knitting companions from over a decade ago, but celebrating a ninety-third birthday meant that many of the friends made over a lifetime were long gone.
“I’m not sure if she’s close to anyone here, but the residents who want to attend are more than welcome.”
“That’s a lovely offer. I’ll be sure to let everyone know.”
When I suggested that Diem contact distant relatives—aunts, uncles, cousins—to see if they would like to attend, he told me there were none.
None he wanted to associate with, I suspected.
When I asked if we should invite his mother and father, he spewed an alphabet soup of colorful curses before informing me that if I did that, I had better hire security.
Diem’s family put the D in dysfunctional. His father made my father look practically saintly, and my birth father was a homophobic jackass.
So yeah, the guest list was limited.
“We’re having the event catered, and a friend of Hazel’s is making carrot cake. Will I be able to come in ahead of time to decorate the room?”
“Absolutely. We have a dated stereo system I can roll out if you’d like. It’s crackly and only plays CDs or cassette tapes. The folks in here like it when it’s set to the a.m. radio station mostly. No Bluetooth hookup, but if you wanted music, it’s available.”
“Thanks. I don’t expect it to be a hoedown, but it’s something. I’ll mention it to Diem and see what he wants to do. Do you have CDs or cassettes to go with it? I’m not sure what elderly people listen to, but I suspect it won’t be whatever we have on hand.”
Aaron smirked. “Not unless you have a secret stash of golden oldies CDs, and by that, I mean tunes from the forties and fifties. We have a collection you can borrow. They aren’t in great shape. A lot of them are scratched, but it might help.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with, too.”
Maybe Kitty had something we could borrow. Diem owned a handful of CDs, but grunge and heavy metal weren’t likely to go over well with this crowd.
“How about a projector? I have ambitious plans to put together a slideshow. It means gathering old pictures, so it might not happen, but I’m going to give it the old college try. Maybe this time I won’t flunk out.”
Aaron grinned. “That we have. You might check the boxes in Hazel’s closet. Oftentimes, when our residents move in, they bring old albums. Sadly, whatever isn’t framed and displayed usually grows mold in a box until they… aren’t here anymore. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. None of us is getting out of this alive, right? We can only hope to get ninety-three years like Hazel.”
A muffled ringing cut the conversation short, and Aaron withdrew a phone from his pocket, checking the screen. He hesitated, looked like he wanted to dismiss it, but changed his mind. “I should take this. Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”
He aimed for the double doors as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, Babe. I’m at work…”
Babe? I huffed, wondering if Babe knew how flirty Aaron could be.
Alone, I glanced around, picturing the setup for the party.
The blank wall on the far side would work well for the projection—if I could find the materials for a slideshow.
I wondered if anyone would object to wheeling the piano down the hall.
I could hire a high school kid to play, maybe find a music book with classic, recognizable pieces.
People could dance. Hazel might like that.
The women crafting cackled again, their joyous banter filling the room. The gamers had shifted from backgammon to Battleship, but I wasn’t sure they understood how to play. The gentleman at the laptop rubbed his hands together, still radiating excitement, his gaze pinned to the screen.
Before meeting my cunning coworker, Kitty Lavender, and witnessing her far superior computer skills—despite her advanced age—I would have thought the elderly and technology didn’t mesh. She’d proven me wrong.
Curious what had Mr. Cardigan so enraptured, I wandered to the lone man at the long table, circling it to see what he was up to.
He’d selected a seat close to the wall. I suspected it was to be within range of an outlet.
The laptop was clunky and dated. Its battery was probably past its prime, much like the user.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
The gentleman was so involved in what he was doing that he didn’t seem to notice my approach.
I raised my voice. Although I didn’t see hearing aids, many of the residents were hard of hearing. “Mind if I join you?”
Seeming perturbed, the man dragged his attention from whatever he was doing and shoved his wire-framed glasses up his nose with his index finger. “I can hear you fine. No need to yell.” After evaluating me thoroughly, his brow dipped. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”
“I’m Tallus. A friend of Hazel’s grandson. Do you know Hazel?”
“Good grief. I’m not senile. The gears are grinding, same as they always have.
Got all my teeth still, too. Hazel Krause.
Ninety-three at the end of the month. Was married to Boone Krause in forty-six.
He’s not around anymore. Died a decade or so ago.
One son. Leroy Krause. He comes in from time to time.
One grandson. Diem Krause. He’s in weekly.
Has a dog. He’s queer. You say you’re the grandson’s friend? You queer too?”
I grinned. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
He seemed to absorb the answer for a moment before nodding. “All right. So yeah, I know Hazel. Her gears don’t spin so fast anymore, but she’s a fine gal.” He extended his hand. “Name’s Elwood. Nice to meet you, Tallus.”
I shook, surprised at the strength behind his grip. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“What brings you to Evergreen?” Elwood’s attention returned to the computer.
“Diem and I are planning Hazel’s ninety-third birthday party. You’re welcome to join us when the day comes. Everyone’s invited.”
“Uh-huh.” His attention never left the screen. “Will there be cake? I’m only coming if there’s cake.”
“There’ll be cake.”
“What kind?”
“Carrot.”
“Will it have nuts? I don’t like nuts.”
“I’m not sure. I can ask the lady who’s making it to leave them out.”
“Good. Then I’ll be there.” Elwood two-finger pecked the keyboard. The spark of glee I’d witnessed earlier returned.
“What are you up to, Elwood?”
“Chatting with my girlfriends.”
“Is that so? Plural? How many girlfriends are we talking about?”
“Three.”
“Wow. You dog.”
“Huh?” Frowning, he cut his gaze from the screen.
“It’s an expression. Three girlfriends, huh? How’d you manage that?”
He patted the laptop. “This here computer. The whole world in a box. Don’t even need my encyclopedia anymore. You can ask anything, and it tells you the answer lickety-split. Just gotta type your questions in the box. Hang on. I’ll show you.”
With a slight tremble in his hand and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, Elwood moved his finger over the touchpad until the arrow landed on a familiar symbol. He clicked, and the installed search engine appeared. “Right there. See the box? Go ahead. Try it. Type anything you want.”
“Google. I’m familiar.”
“Never had computers growing up. Boy, aren’t they something. You can do anything on these things. My grandson gave it to me. He got a new one. Took a bit to get the hang of it, but I’m chugging along fine. What do they call it? Swimming in the worldwide ocean or something.”
“Surfing the net.”
“That’s it. Surfing the in-tra-net.” His pronunciation was off, but I didn’t correct him.
“That’s great, Elwood, but tell me. How does owning a laptop get you three girlfriends?”
Elwood tsked and sighed heavily. “You’re a little slow on the uptake, aren’t ya?”
I chuckled. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re not listening. I told you. You put your question in the box. It has all the answers.” He tipped his head at the screen, indicating the rectangular query box on the Google homepage. “So, I asked it to find me a girlfriend, and it did.”
“It did?” Intrigued, I pulled out a chair and sat. “Tell me more.”
“Well, it took me to a… a whatchamacallit. A website. No. An app. I think that’s short for apple, but I don’t understand why they call it that.”
“Application.”
“Huh?”
“App is short for application.”
“Sure. Whatever. Anyhow. It was for people looking for girlfriends. I had to click-a-roo a few things. Took a few minutes to sort myself out, but now I have three beautiful girlfriends. It’s a miracle.
I wasn’t much of a stud growing up, but the girls liked me fine enough, I guess.
Now, I’m so gosh darn popular, I get to pick and choose. ”
Oh, dear god. The man had found himself on a dating app. I had a million questions and an equal number of concerns, but before I could voice any of them, Elwood glanced over the top of the screen and said, “Your homosexual partner is here.”
“Excuse me?” I bit back a grin, spotting Diem. “Yeah. I just call him my boyfriend or Diem.”
Elwood sized me up and down, nodding. He didn’t seem particularly put out by my orientation or relationship status, but he appeared unsure how to address it. “Did you find your fella on a computer?”
“Nope. I fell into his arms one day when I was trying to change a light bulb.”
“Is that right? You’re not joshing me, are ya? I’ve heard jokes about lightbulbs.”
“No, sir. True story.” I did not share how my dick had come in direct contact with Diem’s face on that fateful afternoon because Elwood was an old man, and old men had weak hearts.
Diem spotted me and wandered over, Echo glued to his side.
“I thought you were having a tour with Aaron,” he mumbled, eyeing Elwood.
“I was. He had to step out to take a phone call, so Elwood here was keeping me company. He was telling me about his harem of young, beautiful girlfriends.”
“I’m chatting with them,” Elwood said, pride framing his words as he indicated the laptop screen. “It’s like texting but not on a cellular phone. It’s new age. The in-tra-net. You heard of it?”
Diem didn’t seem to know what to say and addressed me instead. “Are you finished? Echo’s out of tricks, and I’m out of dog treats, which is good because if she eats any more, she’ll be sick. Nana’s gone to lie down for a bit.”
“I’m done for now. We can leave a message for Aaron at the front desk. Let him know we took off. I have his office extension, so I can call if I have more questions.”
“You should see if he wants to be your boyfriend,” Elwood said. “Aaron is a homosexual man, too. Not sure if he’s single, but that don’t matter. This is twenty-twenty-six. Times are different.”
Diem’s lips twitched. For a second, I thought it was irritation at the audacity of the suggestion, but when he turned swiftly for the door and marched off, yelling, “Come on, Tallus,” a hint of humor colored his tone.
I chuckled. “See you later, Elwood. Be good to your girlfriends.”
“Oh, I will. Gonna ask Ginger to go on a date this weekend.”
“Ginger?”
“She’s a fiery redhead. Boy, I like me a redhead.” He rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.
“Good luck.”
I wanted to warn him that Ginger’s profile picture was probably AI-generated and the person behind the facade was likely a bored kid or a con.
I hope someone monitored what Elwood was doing.
I wasn’t sure what the rules were in a place like Evergreen, but even if “Ginger” agreed to a date, I doubted residents could leave without some sort of protocol in place.
I caught up with Diem in the hallway, hooking my arm through his. “So,” I cooed. “Elwood tells me you’re a homosexual man, and since I’m a homosexual man as well, I say we go home and do homosexual things together.”
Diem couldn’t contain his grin as he shook his head. It stretched crescent moons beside his mouth. “You’re a shit.”
“I’m your shit.”
“But what about dear, sweet Aaron? Apparently, he, too, is a homosexual man, and possibly single. Don’t think I haven’t noticed him checking you out all morning.” He growled playfully under his breath.
“Aww. Do you feel threatened, cuddle bear?”
“No.” The immediate answer lightened my step. I rested my head against Diem’s broad bicep as we continued down the hall.
“Good because you’re it for me. I love you, D.”
He unhooked our arms and wrapped his around my shoulder instead, drawing me snug against his side and pecking a kiss on the top of my head. “I love you too.”