Not Just Another Wrinkled Face

By Barb McIntyre

The average age of the people living in the Morning Glory condominium is sixty-two. Together in the well-used recreation room, watching movies, playing cards, holding an art show, or a wake, these seniors are, finally, 'really' living.
Mary is busy with her daughter and pregnant granddaughter, while Alice desperately wants more time with her family. Phil and Helen's affair is discovered, Paul and Sandra agree to become friends with benefits and Lise wages war with the local dog walkers who try to ignore what their animals are leaving on her perfectly tended lawn.
The lives of the residents of the Morning Glory condominium prove the Yogi Berra quote: "It ain't over till it's over."

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667856186

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Alice picked up a box of clothing from the moving van, walked past the men carrying her cherished credenza, and through the open door into the lobby of her new home.

The burly man was wearing a faded, too tight T-shirt with the logo WE MOVE FAST, printed inside a lightning bolt on the front, and LET US DO IT 4 U on the back. Alice guessed the size of his shirt would be an extra, extra large. The man at the other end of the credenza almost filled out an identical T-shirt in, what was probably, a size small. The credenza, she knew, was quite heavy, but both men walked as if they were carrying a pillow. They might be strong, she thought, but fast wasn’t a word she’d use to describe them.

The outfits in the box she was carrying, Alice was proud to remember, were the same size as the outfits she’d worn when she was in her twenties. A looser cut, of course, not the form-fitting designs she’d worn back then. And, to be honest, if not for elastic waistbands, some of them would have to be a size larger. Alice was thankful that she’d inherited her father’s fast metabolism. Unfortunately, she’d also inherited early and copious wrinkles from her mother.

Her mother always chuckled after saying, Even my wrinkles have wrinkles. Alice didn’t think that having a face like hers was one bit amusing. After years of trying to keep looking young, she’d given up on wrinkle creams and hair dyes. At only sixty-two, she had the face of a much older woman. She kept her thick, straight, uniformly steel grey hair very short. The truth was that Alice didn’t like looking in the mirror. She didn’t want to believe that this was how others saw her. And this cut meant that she only had to see herself for a few seconds a day. After a few brush strokes, she simply let her hair air dry. Her beauty routine consisted only of brushing her teeth, rubbing hand lotion on her face and hands, and for special events, a quick swipe of an old tube of lipstick. Her age was somewhat put in question, however, by her ready smile, her smooth, throaty voice, and both the looseness and speed of her movements. Alice swam five days a week and walked for at least an hour a day. Since the death of her husband, she’s always walked alone. The few times she tried to walk with friends, she’d had to slow down.

Lise looked up from her weeding, watched the wrinkled woman walk past the moving men, and wondered how anyone could take so little care of their skin. There was no need for wrinkles like that. The woman was moving quickly, though, so she couldn’t be as old as she looked.

Lise was also thinking that if the big man was fifty pounds lighter and she was fifty years younger.

Réveille toi, vielle folle, she thought, shaking her head. Wake up, you old fool. You are seventy-two years old. You are too old to be thinking about the sex.

Despite having left Quebec twenty years ago, she still thought in French much of the time, and her accent was still heavy when she spoke English, especially when she was irritated.

People were always amazed to find out Lise’s age. She kept her weight at one hundred and twenty pounds by eating sparingly and exercising regularly. The light brown streaks in her white, wavy hair looked natural and, with careful blow-drying, framed her face attractively. Expertly understated makeup on skin that had always been expensively lubricated and protected from the sun, along with regular trips to the hairdresser, gave her the appearance of a much younger woman. She’d always had a flair for finding just the right outfits and never left her unit unless perfectly dressed for the occasion. She even chose her gardening outfits with care.

Alice decided that it was time for a rest on her next trip to the truck. She walked over and introduced herself to Lise, who was now pouring liquid from a beer bottle onto a patch of grass that was a little less green than the grass around it. Alice knew that Lise and the man cutting the grass at the side of the building were part of the grounds committee. These work committees were one of the many things that had helped her decide on this building. Everyone was on one work committee or another as a means of keeping the monthly condo fees down. Alice had inherited the weekly cleaning of the second-floor corridor and one staircase from the previous owner of her unit.

After introducing herself, Alice complimented Lise on the flowered scarf tied around her wide-brimmed straw hat and asked her what was in the beer bottle.

It is the bière. The sugar in the bière helps the grass to heal after it has been damaged by the dog pee. They make me so mad, these dog people. I do not understand how they think. What is passing in their heads? Are they thinking, she continued in a mimicking voice, My dog has to make the poop and the pee, but I don’t want him to make the poop and the pee on my grass. Me, I don’t like the brown spots on my grass. I want my grass to be all green.

Alice enjoyed both the accented language and the woman’s enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but like her.

Lise continued in the mimicking voice as she pointed to her head. I know what I will do. I will take my dog somewhere else, and he will make that grass brown. It will not be my grass. I will not see that grass from my window. I will do this right now! Lise shuddered and made a face like a child taking strong medicine.

Cochons! Lise composed herself. I am sorry. I continued too long.

The women chatted for a while, and Alice discovered that Lise had the one-bedroom unit directly across the corridor from her two bedroom one. Before saying goodbye, she agreed to dinner in Lise’s unit at six.

Alice resumed her trip to the truck, picked up two lamps, and carried them towards the elevator. She was thinking about how she’d have to do a big grocery shopping the next day. After two years, it was easier, but grocery shopping never failed to remind her of Greg, and she still never lingered at the meat counter. Her husband had collapsed onto the floor right in front of her while they were comparing cuts of beef in the grocery store. He never regained consciousness.

Alice had done what had to be done. She’d made all of the arrangements, signed all of the papers, and cleaned out his closets and his desk. She’d made long, detailed lists during the nights when she couldn’t sleep.

Alice hadn’t been able to understand why she didn’t feel tired. It was as if the less she slept, the less tired she felt. She’d thought about asking Greg why he thought that was more than once. Then she’d remembered that she could never ask him anything, ever again.

During the day, Alice had plodded through her lists, mechanically checking off one item after the other. It was as if, she’d suddenly thought one day on her way home from the bank, her whole being had been injected with a dentist’s anesthetic. She was a robot, a heavy, slow-moving, slow-thinking, but efficient robot.

Her daughter had waited a few months before starting a campaign to get Alice to sell the house and move into a condo three hundred miles away.

If you moved down here you, could see the kids whenever you wanted. You know you want to see them more often.

I don’t want you to be so far away.

I don’t want to think of you all alone in that big house.

If you were closer, I wouldn’t have to worry about you.

We’re your family, Mom. You need to be with your family.

Dan’s going on a business trip again. If you were here, you could take the kids, and I could go with him.

It had taken two years, but now Alice was here. And as soon as the spare room was decorated, her grandchildren would have the first of many sleepovers.

At six-thirty, after a simple, but elegantly served, meal of grilled chicken, salad, and homemade fruit cocktail topped with yoghurt, Alice and Lise were relaxing over their coffees and getting to know each other, when they heard a commotion in the corridor.

That must be Mary and Hélène doing their acting, Lise told Alice as they walked towards the door. I will open the door a little, and you will see what they do.

Peeking through the small opening, Alice saw a twenty-something couple standing in front of the door of what she knew was an empty unit, one down from hers. An overly made-up woman in a too-tight suit was searching through her large handbag. Sorry, she apologized to the couple, it’s in here somewhere.

As she pulled out a large key ring and began trying a series of keys in the lock, two older women, both carrying oversized purses and walking hesitantly, arm in arm, approached the couple.

The man tried not to shrink away as one of the women put her face much too close to his.

Hello, Dear. She spoke loudly and in a quivering voice. Are you coming to live with us?

That is Hélène, Lise whispered to a wide-eyed Alice. She prefers the French pronunciation of her name, but she is not at all French. Her parents left Montréal before she was born. She and her sister, Sue, live right above me. Her sister has bad arthritis and needs help often. Hélène also visits her mom, who lives in the care home down by the water, a few times a week. The woman has a lot of energy.

Hélène was dressed in stylish, tight jeans and a low-cut top that showed too much of a substantial cleavage. She had dark brown hair so curly that Alice thought she must have to use a very wide-toothed comb, and she obviously worked out regularly. No one knew that Hélène would never go out in public unless the salt in her salt and pepper hair, and her already snowy white eyebrows, were carefully darkened.

Hélène dropped her purse on the floor. Goodness! I’ve dropped my handbag. You wouldn’t mind getting that for me would you, Dear? She smiled at the man, and he rushed to pick it up for her.

Ladies! The woman with the keys spoke curtly, as she finally opened the door and tried to usher the couple into the unit and away from the two old women. I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a hurry.

The second older woman also invaded the couple’s space and, ignoring the real estate agent, spoke to them loudly. It’s a wonderful place to live. We’re in and out of each other’s units all day long. 

That one is Mary, Lise whispered to an enthralled Alice.

Mary had long white hair, which was carefully pinned up in a bun, and she wore a pair of glasses suspended from a silver chain around her neck. Mary was a little self-conscious about her weight. She’d gone up three sizes since her wedding day.

We’re always happy to see youngsters like yourselves move in. Mary’s voice quivered. So many of us are getting on, and it’s nice to be able to call on your neighbor to pick things up when you drop them.

And don’t worry about Mr. Peters on your left, Hélène continued. You only hear his coughing in the morning. The rest of the day is okay. Usually.

The agent finally managed to get the couple away from Mary and Hélène and into the unit. She closed the door a little too loudly.

Lise opened her door a little further and motioned for Mary and Hélène to come in.

You must be Alice. Hélène and I were planning to welcome you tomorrow, but now is as good a time as any, Mary said as Lise ushered them all into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine.

Alice looked from Hélène to Mary. What was that all about?

Hélène said, The Board members go on watch as soon as a unit goes up for sale. Whenever an empty unit is being shown to anyone under fifty, we rush over and go into our act.

That’s why I didn’t see either of you the day I saw my unit, Alice said

Right. Hélène nodded. You weren’t under fifty. We didn’t go on alert.

Alice chuckled. Don’t the real estate agents complain?

They do their best to rush the prospective buyers away from us. There’s not much else they can do. Hélène looked quite pleased with herself.

And this always works? Alice asked.

Nobody under fifty lives in the building, Hélène boasted.

Hours later, opening the door to her new home, with the promise of cards the next night, she realized that she hadn’t laughed this much since, well, since Greg died.

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, Lise was busy watering the front flower beds when she noticed a woman walking two white poodles. The lower halves of their little bodies were nude except for pom-poms on their tails and ankles. The female dog’s head was held high as she pranced proudly along with a springy gait at the end of her sparkly studded pink leash. The male dog’s head was lowered, and his dark, almond-shaped eyes looked only at the sidewalk, as if embarrassed not only by his semi-nakedness but also by the baby-blue sparkly studded leash around his neck. When the expected happened, and the female dog squatted on the lawn, Lise rushed over, tugging on the hose and making sure that both woman and dogs got well soaked before aiming both her eyes and the hose at the spot where the female dog had just urinated. The female dog ran to stand beside the woman, and both dogs shook vigorously as the woman sputtered with indignation. I just had them groomed, and this is a new blouse. 

Lise pretended not to be aware that the woman was drenched, or of what she’d said, and explained happily, If I put much water on this right away it, how do you say, it dilutes the pee, and the grass does not die. It is a good thing that I was here to be able to do this. Yes? She looked up and smiled sweetly at the woman before returning her gaze and interest to the lawn.

The woman glared at her, started to say something, but turned and walked quickly away.

The male dog was now the one with the springy step.

When Alice walked through the door at the short end of the large, L-shaped recreation room that evening, she passed the kitchen area with a large table covered with snacks for later in the evening and a large percolator that gurgled as it filled the room with the smell of fresh coffee. When she turned into the long end of the L, she saw that Mary was waving at her from one of the bridge tables scattered around the room. She also noticed a door behind a sitting area with a coffee table surrounded by a large sofa, and three matching armchairs, at the far end of the room. On the wall in the middle of the room, she saw a sixty-inch, flat-panel, plasma, high-definition television and a bookcase holding a VCR, a DVD player, and a CD player, along with a large selection of tapes and discs. Simon & Garfunkel’s Sounds of Silence was playing just loudly enough to be heard above the murmurs of the card players.

Alice noticed a pale, tall man, wearing an oversized black T-shirt and loose jeans, that were held up by red and green braces, lean over and change the CD. His thin, long white hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his glasses had the thickest black frames she’d ever seen, and whatever he’d just said had the people near him laughing loudly.

Peter, Paul, and Mary began singing Blowin’ in the Wind as Alice reached the table where Mary and Hélène were waiting for her.

Hélène smiled up at Alice. Good! Now we’re only missing Sandra.

Alice looked around the room and smiled as she sat down. This is perfect. Having people around is one of the reasons I moved here. When my husband died, my social life died too.

Thank you for using the D word. Mary smiled at her and kept shuffling the cards disinterestedly. I have a thing about all the words we use to avoid actually saying that a person is dead. He passed. I always want to ask passed what? The slow car on the highway? His exams? I lost him. You lose your keys. You lose your mind. You don’t lose your husband. He’s not waiting for you at the lost and found in the mall eating a Kit Kat bar.

That could happen if the husband had dementia. Hélène had picked up the second deck of cards and had started a game of solitaire.

Mary flushed with embarrassment. I never thought of that. Now I feel bad. I was joking, and I know that’s no joke. She turned to Alice. I know exactly what you mean about a social life. I did everything with Michael. I didn’t realize that all ‘our’ friends were really ‘his’ friends. Oh, people were nice enough for the first few months, but just about the time I started being able to have a conversation, I had nobody to talk to.

Alice nodded. Same here. The few invitations I got were like what people today call pity uks.

Uks? Hélène and Mary said at the same time.

I’m not really comfortable with the real word so I only use part of it, Alice explained.

I swore like the proverbial trooper when I was young. Mary stopped shuffling for a moment and leaned her face towards the small, portable fan on the table beside her. But after my firstborn’s first word was shit, I cleaned up my act. I started swearing in other languages or with accents. Then I started using synonyms. Mary smiled, sat back up and began shuffling her cards again as she added, It bugs the netherworld out of my daughter.

Alice laughed. What other synonyms do you use?

I pretty much get by with netherworld, feces, and lord condemn. And if I’m really, really upset, she made a face and spat out the word, intercourse.

Hélène chuckled. She does get creative. I loved it the time somebody scratched the side of her car and she stomped in here shouting that ‘the supreme being condemn that male offspring of a female dog to eternal suffering.’

Alice thought for a moment and then chuckled.

Hélène continued. Actually, my father used to say that swearing was nothing more than a sign of a poor vocabulary.

"What about accents and other languages? Alice asked Mary.

"The Irish shite, and