Old Friends
Their balding heads and beer bellies are newly acquired. They used to be young and fit, hell raisers and athletes. But the years have finally caught up. The uniform of tee shirts and shorts though remains the same. Thirty five years of ribbing and teasing and music flow seamlessly into the present as three fifty-year-old men stand around an old piano at the end of a riotous evening of reminiscences, revelations and gentle boasting. One plays, the other two sing and hum. They rehash old tunes, one strums an air guitar. They are teenagers again, brash, abrasive, kind and shy. The last song? You’ve got a friend.
Two elderly ladies support each other’s faltering steps as they enter a cool dark prayer hall. They settle into chairs like feathers, one tall and fashionable, the other petite and elegant. In front of them lies the body of the third member of their eternal trio. They tremble at the sight but remain dignified and dry eyed. One turns to the other and they share a tremulous smile. Then they turn resolutely towards their friend and gaze lovingly at her. Nothing has changed. She waits for them just around the corner.
They sit leaning on their gnarled walking sticks, watching the sun set. They have been coming here to the seashore all their lives, once upon a time natty bachelors in their suspenders and plus fours. They used to watch the pretty girls go by, catch their eye and doff their caps. They made bright plans for the future, grandiose schemes that came to nothing. Now they argue about cricket and politics and shout at each other, forgetting that their hearing aids are switched off. After a while, they sink into silence and one nods off to sleep. The pretty girls go by.
The women are running to plump, with their hair touched up at the roots to keep the clock from ticking on. They sit over cups of coffee, hands clasped across the table as tears brighten their eyes. One of their own, a sweet child they have known since baby hood is struggling with life and they suffer with the mother as she agonises and vents her rage and helplessness. After a while, they square their shoulders and start to make plans. How can they help? What can they do? The mother slowly begins to share their resolve. She sits up straighter than before. Shakes off the apathy. A smile appears on their faces.
A man and a woman sit across from each other. They haven’t seen each other in many years. They try not to stare at the grey hair and wrinkles on each other. Once, they spent every waking minute together. Now they live half a world away, separated by more than distance. Grown up, grown apart. They have loving families who have never met. They barely know each other any more, it seems. Too much time has passed. The silence grows awkward. Then their eyes meet and there it is. They both let out a sigh. I know you. You know my thoughts. I share your dreams. Our hearts are very old friends.