See You on the Other Side | ✓

6 | It's Not the 60's Anymore

"What if it's the same dark coming? Oh, fuck it all then." - Japanese Breakfast, Heft

~~~

I came back home after I had that near bickering match with Sylvie.

I believed my logic had her emotion-driven hysteria beat. You can call me a bad person for heading into a debate with an old lady, but she was a person nonetheless and I had to save her from getting sold a dream. Too many people get caught up on the somewhat sweet parts of life, and suddenly forget that the dark days even existed.

The sweet part of life to Sylvie was behind her, but she believed they were in front of her. The dark days were in front of her and I knew that as a fact.

I was teetering on telling her this on that Saturday afternoon, but I ultimately didn't. I feared that I wouldn't be allowed back and based on what she expressed, that wasn't what she needed. We talked about serious topics without any small talk. It made the 3 hours I had to be there fly by.

Despite my opposition to about everything that she said, I didn't mind talking to her and I'm sure she felt the same. At the end of my time at the retirement home, I said goodbye. One of the nurses that monitored the living area pointed me out before I left through the door.

"What's your name?" he asked me.

"Adrian Brennan," I answered. "May I ask why?"

"Sylvia hasn't looked this engaged in a while. If it's alright with you, would you mind coming tomorrow?"

"I can definitely make it tomorrow," I responded.

Being at the retirement home wasn't how I thought I was going to spend this weekend. I guess it wasn't too bad though because I got something that I rarely received; attention.

~~~

I walked into the retirement home and greeted the welcome lady. She told me that Sylvie couldn't stop talking about me the second I left.

I hoped they were positive things.

She told me that Sylvia would be in her room because she was feeling a little under the weather. Undoubtedly, they wanted her to stay in bed.

I found her room and when I came in, her rather dull expression was given a bit of life.

"You came back!" she exclaimed. She leaned forward slightly and placed a pillow behind her.

I sat in the one-seater chair that matched the yellow color that touched the walls.

"And you sat down. Something tells me you're staying for an hour or two."

"Well, I can't get my point across in five minutes, can I?"

"You're still hung up on that?" she questioned.

"Maybe, but we can talk about anything. Do you ever watch YouTube?"

She looked a little puzzled. "Is that what I listen to my shows on?"

"Listen?"

"My Johnny Dollar show is my favorite," she said, adding a chuckle. "I love the whole mystery genre."

"The murder-mystery type of stuff?" I questioned. It wasn't my favorite genre, but I could talk about it. I was more of a horror type of guy.

I enjoyed the occasional dramedy though.

"Yes, like the things your grandmother listens to," she added.

She listened to that? I guess that shows how much I never really talked to my grandma. Maybe I should've talked to her more about her interests.

Nah.

"How'd you meet that she-devil anyway?" I inquired.

She pondered on the question for a second before the cognitive puzzle pieces came together. "I believe it was the early 70s when we met. We were both at Notre Dame of Maryland. I went for night school while she was an on-campus undergrad. She was quite the looker in her day."

I never really saw what my grandma looked like in her early twenties. Before my grandfather passed, I recall asking him what she looked like. He responded by saying the pictures he had I had no interest in seeing.

Gross.

"She was a hippie back in the day too. I thought I was radical before I met her," she said.

"Now she's a bitter old lady."

She frowned. "Well, that's not good. The last I saw her at that book club, she was a cordial woman. The death of her husband has been tough on her, I guess."

"Maybe."

"Speaking of book clubs, I wish I had my book, but I don't know where I've put it. I think one of the nurses have it."

"I could go check the living room for it."

"Oh, would you?" she asked, the tone in her voice lightening. I guess that vampire book was all the male smut she needed.

I rose from my seat and walked over to that drab room I was in the day before. I looked in the area that we were at before I spotted the shirtless guy book. I thought about going back to the room, but that all changed once I heard something.

It was Brielle's friend and an old geezer. He was hurling some racial slurs her way. She was visibly upset, but I could tell by her nice demeanor that she had some trouble saying her piece especially to these old geezers.

"What'd you say to her?" I asked the man. Regardless of what he was going to say, I had already made up my mind on what I was going to do.

"I said, 'I don't want this nigger helping me'," he repeated.

The girl rolled her eyes before looking down at the ground.

"Just because your dick doesn't work anymore doesn't mean you have to be a dick. I don't even want to help you with that attitude," I spat.

The girl laughed behind me. She laughed so hard that her light brown skin tone had reddened. In that moment, it seemed like I saved her from a dark day.

That feeling was nice.