WORDS FOR SALE - Short Story of the Month (The Final Diet)

He knew about the cancer early in their courtship. Sally asked him to move in with her. Her little house in the seaside retirement community was so much more comfortable than his houseboat, but he insisted that they get married first.

“None of us knows what’ll get us in the end. I could step off a curb and get hit by a bus on my way to the bait and tackle shop tomorrow. Let’s get married. Cancer be damned.”

Sally was thrilled, and her friends thought it was wonderfully romantic. Here was this retired merchant seaman — a rugged and hearty, if not handsome gentleman — sweeping their long-widowed friend off her feet. Her close friends knew about her diagnosis, as Sally was not the strong and silent type. She would spend her last few years in a romantic haze.

But it didn’t turn out exactly as Sally had planned.

She confided in her friends that Burt was often gruff and that without the little blue pills they had no sex life, and with them it was more than she desired. As Sally was hard of hearing, her confidences were broadcast in a loud and clear voice. Burt didn’t have to eavesdrop to hear his faults announced. He needed only to be in the house — or out the deck when Sally was inside with her friend.

Burt was often on Sally’s back deck. The first thing he did after unpacking his bags was to begin working on it. He replaced the railing, cleaned and resealed the wood, built a platform for a gas grill, and bought the best one at the store. Sally liked to entertain and the focus of their parties moved from coffee and cake in the living room to burgers and beer on the deck.

Sally’s friends approved of the change. Some of them more than others, and some found the rugged old sailor very appealing. They whispered in his ear how his new wife didn’t appreciate him. At first, Burt let the flirtations of the old ladies roll off his back, but when he combined them with Sally’s sharp critiques, he began to wonder if he’d made the right choice in marrying.

She kept harping on him about his Rooibus tea. She said it was nasty and insisted that he drink it on the deck where she wouldn’t catch a whiff of the “harsh” aroma. He loved his herbal tea and credited it with his good health and sharp mind.

“You’d do yourself some good if you tried it, Sally. Might help you lick this cancer thing.”

But she just made a face, wrinkling her nose each time he brewed a pot.

He continued to fish and putter around fixing the house, and Sally, with frequent visits to specialists, stalled the inevitable for a remarkable period of time. By the time the cancer went to stage four, they were married for almost two years and had settled into a companionable, if not romantic, pattern. If Sally was disappointed, she’d stopped complaining and Burt found solace in a great place to live with a view of the bay and discounted slip for his boat.

Then, all of a sudden, Sally began to muse about her son and his family. Her son, a career military man would need a place to retire. What place would be better than Sally’s house in the retirement community? Burt swallowed hard. He’d shuttled her to and from doctor’s appointments for almost two years, fixed up the house and now she was talking about pushing him out in favor of the son who’d visited twice since the wedding. He lived half a world away and probably thought the idea of settling down surrounded by his mom’s old friends was dreadful. He’d no doubt want to sell the place as soon as Sally was buried.

Where would that leave Burt?

He was her husband. Didn’t that mean anything?

Burt thought of the flirtatious old ladies, licking their chops at the thought of a hale and hearty man soon to be added to the small population of single men in the community. He didn’t want to leave. He started to envision himself with a woman who wanted to share a pot of his smelly tea in the morning and with whom he could resume some blue-pill-inspired fun and games. There were plenty of interested ladies: the golf-playing Katie with long, well-shaped legs; the pert and peppy Agatha with her fancy reading glasses and bright pink lipstick; and, most of all, the coolly elegant Sonia who swam laps every morning.

Sally asked him to take her to the lawyer’s office, and then she promptly got sick. He cleaned up the vomit, put her to bed and called the lawyer. Handing the phone to Sally who was clearly too sick to visit the office.

“Jack, I’m rethinking all sorts of things,” she mumbled. “Here talk to Burt. He’ll explain.”

Burt switched off the bedroom light and took the phone into the other room.

“She’s been confused. It’s the pain meds,” he told the lawyer.

“It’s not unusual.” The lawyer replied. He had a practice centered in a retirement community and knew his way around the legal issues of the very old. “Last week she called about changing her will.”

“I know,” Burt lied. “She’s concerned about her son one day and worried about where I’ll wind up the next.”

“So you know about this?” The lawyer sounded relieved. He didn’t want to dissemble. If the husband was to be shafted it was best he knew before his wife died.

“As of today, she’s more concerned about me and where I’ll live. She doesn’t want me back on my houseboat. I love that boat, but I can see her point. She’s worried that I’ll be too old to manage it…”

Burt continued to lie and wove a credible story about his ill and vacillating wife.

“She wanders outside sometimes,” Burt said with a catch in his voice. “I’ve found her down by the beach more than once.”

“Oh, my! Was she conscious?”

“Yes, but confused. Those pain medications…. They take away the pain but they can rob you of any sense. She was wading into the water.”

“The icy water this time of year — she could have died.”

“I know. I try to watch her, but you can’t keep an eye on an adult every minute. I’m an old man.”

“You should get some help.”

“Yes, I’ve talked to her about it, but she prefers it when I’m the one taking care of her.”

Lying to the lawyer was becoming easier, so Burt plunged ahead.

“She’s depressed, but she doesn’t want her son to know. He’s so far away. She doesn’t want him to come running only to find her… to find her…” Burt let his voice trail off.

“I understand completely.” The lawyer was sympathetic. “Just take good care of her and we’ll make sure that both of you are comfortable with the situation. If there’s anything I can do, any arrangements I can make, any calls, please don’t hesitate. I’m there for you and for Sally during this difficult time.”

It was all Burt could do to not laugh out loud when he hung up the phone. Sally called him back into the bedroom. She wanted a cup of tea to settle her stomach. He made her a cup of his, smelly tea and crushed two of Sally’s painkillers into the cup. He dribbled two tablespoons of honey and squeezed half a lemon into the mixture. His Rooibos and peppermint blend was aromatic — perhaps too aromatic for Sally’s taste — but it had a natural calming effect and was used in South Africa to treat insomnia and nausea. With the additional pain pills, it would give her a seriously good night’s sleep.

“Sally, drink this. It’ll make you feel so much better.”

“Not your stinky tea!”

“Just this once. I added some honey and lemon. It’s really good for you. Lots of those antioxidants your friends were talking about and it’s really good for nausea. You’ll see. Swallow it down in a couple of gulps and you’ll feel better in no time.”

Sally made a face but took a gulp. Then, before Burt could think of what to say, she popped two of her pain pills in her mouth and washed them down with the warm honey and lemon at the bottom of the cup.

Four pills! Now, she would really sleep —maybe, more than sleep?

Burt took the cup into the kitchen and washed it. Then he poured himself a cup of tea and went out on the deck to enjoy the sunset. With the telescope he used for stargazing, he could see all the way down the beach. He spotted Sonia. She was walking toward him and waved when she saw him. He waved back. By the time she arrived, he’d brought the teapot out and an empty cup for Sonia.

“Ah your Rooibus and mint tisane!” She sighed as she dropped into the deck chair.

“Rooibus and peppermint — my favorite.”

“But not Sally’s.”

“No, but with enough honey and lemon she seems to like what it does for nausea.”

“Chemo?”

“No, that’s done. No use anymore. But the pain pills make her dizzy. I found her walking down to the beach…”

“It’s won’t be long,” Sonia interrupted him. “Life is for the living. Isn’t it?”

She practically winked at him.

“This is such a nice place.” She stood and walked the length of the deck. “You did a very good job fixing it up. Sally was lucky to find you.”

Burt just nodded and sipped his tea.

“I doubt her son will appreciate it. He’s not one to sit and contemplate life from the comfort of a quiet deck. Personally, I think Sally’s being silly about leaving the house to him. It’s really your house by now. Don’t you think?”

“Sally’s been of two minds about that,” Burt replied. “Lately she’s been rethinking the idea of leaving it to her son. I’m here and I love the place…. She’s been rethinking that entirely.”

“How is she doing? I mean right now…”

“She’s sleeping. She had a rough day. I should check on her.”

“No, not now.” Sonia approached him. “Check on her in a few minutes. Let’s just enjoy the sunset together.”

She took his hand and planted a soft, slow, kiss on his cheek. He pulled her close and kissed her with a passion he’d long forgotten. Maybe he didn’t need the blue pills anymore. Sonia responded, but then pulled away.

“It’s not right. Not now…”

She gave his hand a quick squeeze, stepped off the deck and headed around the house to the street side. Burt sat until darkness fell. He didn’t check on Sally until he’d put the frozen potpie in the oven.

She was dead.

He called the ambulance and feigned the appropriate grief and surprise.

There was a certain amount of whispering when Burt and Sonia’s romance became public. Katie was particularly put out, but even she came around when they announced that they were getting married. The buzz at the marina centered around how Burt resisted the idea of a wedding on the deck — it would remind too many people of Sally — so they eloped on his houseboat and when they returned they had a small party. Burt rose to make a toast.

“I know it’s not the tradition for the groom to make the toast, but we’re all way beyond the usual traditions.”

Everyone chuckled.

“I know that some of you might think that I should have waited a while before Sonia and I got married, but my lovely Sally taught me to actually like being married!”

More laughter met that line.

“Here I was an old bachelor with a houseboat and she pulled me up on land. And when Sally, dear Sally, left us, Sonia here picked up the pieces of my broken heart and rescued me. I am a very lucky old fisherman.”

The honeymoon lasted for the first few months of the marriage. Burt was ecstatic. Sonia was everything that Sally had not been. Sonia was happy about his little blue pills. She was the perfect hostess for his burger and beer parties on the deck. And, most of all, she enjoyed sharing a pot of his special tea on the deck. While Sally had called it “that stinky tea” and wrinkled her nose each time he brewed a pot, Sonia took to brewing the “Rooibus tisane” — as she called it — and serving it on the fine white china she’d brought when she moved into the house.

Sally’s son had come for the funeral and called once or twice after the will had gone through probate. He was a little surprised that his mom’s house had gone to Burt, but he didn’t make a fuss.

“Mom told me she was leaving it to me,” he told Burt. “But she must have changed her mind. You were taking care of her at the end — it’s hard to hold a grudge against the man who nursed your mom in her last days. Enjoy the house and your good health.”

Burt and Sally’s lawyer both agreed that Sally’s son was very gracious about the in heritance issues. But Sonia didn’t think much of his behavior.

“We could have sent him Sally’s things. He didn’t need to hang around after the funeral — getting in the way. I found him in the bedroom, looking at the things on Sally’s dresser. He told me he was looking for a keepsake for his daughter, but there was nothing in the will about Sally’s jewelry. As her husband you were entitled to it. Don’t you think?”

Burt had no interest in Sally’s pearls or her Tiffany watch, but Sonia obviously did. He was surprised.

“If Sally’s son hadn’t taken all the jewelry, we could have sold it all and gotten a new motor for the houseboat. With a new motor, we’ll be able to travel on it and wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Sonia had a point. She was so much more adventurous than Sally had been. Sally liked her trinkets, but athletic and ambitious Sonia would have turned the baubles and beads into something more concrete. Burt loved her for that. She was practical.

Of course no relationship was perfect.

Sonia could be a bit harsh. She liked the towels folded just so — lengthwise and in thirds. She insisted that he switch to two percent milk in his cereal. He had to learn to load the dishwasher her way and to back the car into the garage so that it was facing out when she wanted to take the car to the market.

Still, with all her quirks, she was a marvelous woman, and he loved her. His companionable attraction to Sally had been fun, but this was love — sharp words and tough standards were just part of Sonia being Sonia.

Sonia was also very good at paperwork. Burt had never had the patience for it, so Sonia took over all their finances. She paid the bills online, invested in a rental property and traded stocks with the help of an investment counselor. Burt was happy to let her take over “all that money nonsense” and so when she made an appointment for them to see a lawyer about making a will, he was happy to comply. It happened to be Sally’s lawyer — Aaron Popkin. Most people called him Poppy, although Sonia, not being fond of nicknames, insisted on calling him Aaron.

Aaron drew up a standard will, leaving everything to the surviving spouse. Sonia and her daughter were estranged for many years, and Burt had no children. It was a very simple will, with little text beyond the standard boilerplate. They were in and out of the office in less than an hour.

A few months later, Burt was enjoying the sunset on the deck when Sonia came out with a pot of his special tea. It was a chilly day and the wind off the water brought a chill to his bones. There was a time when he’d have knocked back a few beers, but Sonia encouraged him to drink the healthy Rooibus tea at night as well as during the day. It wasn’t really tea and so had no caffeine to keep him awake.

Sonia called it the elixir from the fountain of youth — because of its anti-inflammatory properties, anti-oxidants and the flavonoid — aspalathin. Burt chucked as he took a sip. Sonia was having an impact on him. The fact that he now knew a flavonoid from an Isoflavonoid. Yes, Sonia was good for him.

He took another sip of the tea and yawned. He fell asleep in his deck chair and never woke up. Sonia took the cup with the residue of Sally’s medication into the kitchen and washed it thoroughly, replacing it with a cup or Rooibus and peppermint blend with a touch of honey. She pressed the new cup against Burt’s lifeless lips.

Then she looked through the telescope and spotted an attractive fisherman down by the marina. She went inside and made dinner, before “discovering” her husband’s body on the deck and calling 911.