FREE FLYING HEARTS -- A collection of short stories from Tonig73

::: 10 :::

As the years passed, Larry and Laurent remained sublimely in love.  They loved a little less zealously, but just as emotionally, and just as deeply.  The became older, wiser, and less mobile.  Still sprightly, but with more aches and pains and creaky joints.  They both wore glasses constantly, forgetting where they had put them when they were on top of their head, and took afternoon naps in the sunshine, either outside on their bench at the bottom of the garden, or curled up together on their bed, like two contented Cheshire cats.

Their 80th birthdays, together with their 50th wedding anniversary came and went, but not without celebration.  They didn't want a huge party, so they celebrated each milestone individually, just a small affair, a family dinner, or a BBQ in the garden at the boys insistence.  

The boys were more prevalent in their lives now that they were getting older.  They all worried about their fathers, Emir especially.  Jamal visited with his children, who themselves were in their 20's.  But they adored their granddads, and the guys doted on their grandchildren too. 

Emir had taken Larry's driving licence away from him, which of course prompted much arguing and consternation between the two, but he was well founded in doing so, he thought.  He gave his father strict instructions not to drive anymore, and he really didn't want either of them to.  He proposed a car and driver for their, now, infrequent trips into the city.  Larry'd had a couple of minor dings in the car, but both, he admitted, were his fault, due to either his inattention, or his reactions to the situation just weren't fast enough.  Abbas had told him, as kindly as he could, that he didn't want to be told while he was on assignment in Syria, that his fathers had been injured, or, worse still, killed in a car accident, and he wouldn't be able to get home.  They both knew their children were right, they had raised them to have have their heads screwed on the right way after all, and now their good deeds and brilliant parenting were coming back to haunt them.  But it didn't mean it hurt any less.

"Then I won't drive either."  Laurent had told him, "If you can't drive, then neither will I.  We will hire a car and driver, and make out in the backseat like horny teenagers" he joked, trying to get Larry to smile as they held each other one night.  

"Another one of life's casualties in getting old."  Larry had told him.  But it seemed much was going by the wayside now.  They were at the end of their lives, they knew, and to be honest, there wasn't much in life to look forward to, or enjoy anymore, besides each other and their children and grandchildren.  Everything they wanted to do now took almost insurmountable effort and time.  They laughed together about the things they wanted to do, but couldn't anymore, sex being one of those things.  They still tried to physically love one another, but even with the best will in the world and the dirtiest thoughts, neither of them could even manage a semi these days.  But they didn't really mind.  There were other small intimacies to be shared on a daily basis, that showed each other how much they still cared, how much they still meant to one another.  

As Laurent was finding mobility a little more difficult these days, and adamantly refused either a walker, or even a cane, Larry would grasp his hand, letting him lean on him everywhere they went.  He brought them both tea or coffee in bed every morning as they watched the sun rise, casting it's watery shadows over the fields and between the trees outside their bedroom windows, as they snuggled up together, making their plans for the day ahead.  They still cooked together, making each others' favourite meals.  Kissed each others' temple and forehead at least a dozen times a day, as they gazed into one another's eyes, seeing their unspoken words and looks of love and adoration flowing freely, as they always had.  

One late afternoon, and hour or so before the sun set, they sat in their usual spot on their bench at the bottom of the garden.  They chatted about nothing in particular, Larry curled up into Laurent's side as usual.  Their home glowed in the dying light of the sun, turning it peach and pink and orange.  The warm breeze wafted the familiar scents of night jasmine and lavender.  Rearranging his fingers around Laurent's, now having to move them frequently, the pain in both their bones a little uncomfortable at times, Larry had a question.  One, surprisingly, he had never asked before.  Larry reached up to kiss Laurent's cheek.