"I got this one for all my years at the company," Burt said, holding the golden hammer and running his thumb over it, smiling, "All those years put in and they give me this as a consolation. A fuckin' gold hammer."
"I've seen the hammer, yeah," Boris said, slouched in a chair in the main activity room, chin rested on his fist, "At least you can kill yourself with it. I guess that's something."
"Probably end up in my grandsons hands," Burt said, "Think about that. Some kids get money, actual valuables. My grandson's gonna get a stupid golden hammer. You want a legacy, Boris? Don't work in the manual labor sector. Houses you build will be torn down, because nothing lasts forever."
Boris sighed and rubbed his eyes as Whittle stopped by his chair and handed him a small cup with some pills in it.
"I know they always told me not to take drugs from strangers, but thank god for you," Boris said as he took the tiny cup from her and she smiled.
"You're getting easier to deal with," Whittle said, as he handed her back the tiny cup.
"Everyone's easier to deal with when they're drugged," Boris said, and she shrugged as she continued on, muttering under her breath, "can't argue with that."
Boris stood up, stretched and walked past Burt, heading down the hall. First he hit the public bathroom, and then afterwards, stopped in the hall to get some water from the fountain. As he finished drinking, he stood upright and looked in the mirror they hung over the fountain. He sighed, running his hand through his thinning hair before heading down the hall to his bedroom. Boris turned the doorknob and opened to see a woman sitting at his desk, looking around. She was in a lovely floral dress with a sunhat, and shoulder length faded blonde hair. He approached cautiously, confused, until she looked at him and she smiled.
"Can I help you?" he asked, "You're in my room."
"I am?" she asked, sighing, "I've been doing that a lot. I'm sorry, please forgive me."
"It's not really a problem, I'm just letting you know," Boris said, sitting on the end of his bed, across from her, scratching the back of his head nervously, "...um...so...come here often?" he asked, and she actually laughed heartily.
"Very funny," she said, "Not to this room specifically, but last few months, I've been going to the wrong room thinking it's mine. Memory, you know, it just starts to go, bit by bit. I'm Leanne," she said, holding her hand out as he smiled, gripping it gently and shaking it.
"Boris," he said, "Are you even in this building? I don't think I've ever really seen you around here."
"No, I'm not, now that you ask. I'm in the 3rd building, across the grounds," she said, "Amazed I could even make it all the way over here, with my leg and everything."
"I mean, you have two, so that should be good enough," Boris said.
She grinned, and lifted up the hem of her dress, revealing her right leg was fake. She knocked on it, making it emit a hollow sound. Boris grinned as he looked from the leg up to her face. She had really dark green eyes, and for a moment, he swore, she could've been her. He quickly shook it from his mind. No. The last thing he needed to do was attach new people to old people. He quickly cleared his throat and coughed.
"So, lost it in some gang fight back in the day, huh?" he asked, pointing at her leg.
"I wish, that'd at least make me more interesting. No, it had to be amputated. Not that interesting of a story, really. But, makes me seem pretty cool to the kids, so it has its pluses. Boris, do you want to walk me back to my building? Just in case I can't make it on my own?" she asked, smiling coyly.
"I'd love to, but I'll have to get my fake feet, so hang on a second," he said, and she chuckled as they got up to leave. As they exited the room and headed down the hall, he could still hear Burt talking to anyone who would listen about his hammer. Boris opened the back door that led into the yards and garden of the facility, putting his hands in his coat pocket afterwards as they walked past people doing their outdoor activities.
"God," Leanne said, nudging him with her elbow and nodding at the quilting table, "I could never imagine doing that. It's so tedious. If I ever pick up a knitting needle, please cut my wrists with it."
"Will do," Boris said.
"I'm holding you to it," she said.
"So Leanne, what got you stuck in the can?" he asked, and she looked at her nails as they walked, finally crossing her arms after a few moments.
"Husband died a few years ago, and everything would've been fine until I slipped in the kitchen and hit my head on the counter. I got lucky it didn't do anything worse than land me here, you know, like kill me. Although, to be honest, after being here...who knows, the alternative might be preferable."
Boris laughed, rubbing his nose, "Yeah, I know what you mean, but it's not all bad. I mean, you've got good stuff about this place too, like, well, I mean...and this is just for starters, just sorta lowballing here but, I'm here, so that's pretty cool. That's what I've been told anyway."
"Yeah, I guess that sort of makes it worth it," Leanne said sarcastically, "You want to hear a funny story? My daughter comes to visit every now and then, I cannot stand her boyfriend and unfortunately he comes along with her, and she asks me how I'm doing here. I always lie, and tell her I'm having a great time and am very happy here, because it's easier to let her be happy not having to deal with me than it is telling her how unhappy I really am. My child deserves their own life without having me burden them, though, if life were fair, they wouldn't consider us 'burdens' to begin with."
"Very, sadly true," Boris said, as they stopped so she could pick a nice, pink flower from the garden and sniff it, smiling.
Boris liked her, she was very down to earth and very pretty, and they seemed to have the same sense of humor. After she finished looking at the flowers, they went and sat on a bench, watching a family visiting their grandpa at a picnic table a bit away from them. Leanne handed Boris the flower and he sniffed it too.
"Sometimes I just think that, you know, this is how everyones lives end. You get old, your kids leave and you wind up alone in a nursing facility," Leanne said as she took her hat off, letting the wind waft through her hair, "But then I remember that not everyone does end up like this. Some people our age...they get to go home. They get to stay with the people who care about them. You would think I would prefer this, look at it as a new outlook on life, a new, final adventure before the end, but...I'd rather be with my family."
Boris looked down at his feet and sighed, his mind flashing back to the dream he'd had the other night. The car accident. Her. He gulped and started to pick at his fingernails.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "At least you do get to meet some interesting people here. I really like Nurse Whittle, she's very kind and smart. She's a good nurse. And I got to meet you, so that's pretty good."
"Hmmm, it is nice I suppose," Leanne said, putting her hat back on and staring vacantly at the family having lunch at the picnic table, sighing, "Besides, I could've ended up at a worse hospice."
"That's the spirit!" Boris said, making her chuckle.
"At least here," she said, "I can get up and walk around. I'm in the 3rd building, across the grounds," she said, "Amazed I could even make it all the way over here, with my leg and everything."
"Yeah, it's...uh," Boris started, then stopped, having deja vu, "What?"
She grinned, and lifted up the hem of her dress, revealing her right leg was fake. She knocked on it, making it emit a hollow sound.
"It had to be amputated. Not that interesting of a story, really. But, makes me seem pretty cool to the kids, so it has its pluses," she said, laughing about it. Boris couldn't tell, but this sounded...familiar. Like they'd already talked about this, but he didn't want to ask, in case it appeared like he rudely wasn't listening, so he just stayed silent. Leanne continued laughing, adding, "You want to hear a funny story? My daughter comes to visit every now and then, I cannot stand her boyfriend and unfortunately he comes along with her, and she asks me how I'm doing here. I always lie, and tell her I'm having a great time and am very happy here, because it's easier to let her be happy not having to deal with me than it is telling her how unhappy I really am. My child deserves their own life without having me burden them, though, if life were fair, they wouldn't consider us 'burdens' to begin with."
Boris stared at her as she looked off into the distance, still smiling. That's when it dawned on him. She didn't know she was repeating these things. She'd completely forgotten they'd even had these conversations scant minutes ago.
"...yeah," Boris said, shifting on the bench uncomfortably, putting his hands on his knees, "Yeah that...that's a funny story."
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