ElrodW
Mister Nelson, reported missing for several days and suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, is found wandering around near the park. The old woman takes pity on the poor soul, caring for him in a way only she can.
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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
The radio playing in the ticket booth was helping Anya relieve some of the boredom. It was late afternoon, and there were few new customers — just enough that she had to keep the ticket window open. Like the two fraternity guys who had intended to pick up some girls for their fraternity’s party that night. Anya smiled to herself. She’d ignored her grandmother’s rule and handled their ‘special’ ticket herself. She could hear their scream from the locker room all the way out here as they changed into bimbos. And since it was a fraternity party, she’d given their passes a couple of extras that her grandmother wouldn’t have. Both were blonde, with tiny waists, nice full feminine rears, and big hooters. Anya laughed to herself. Big didn’t quite fit. Huge. And a libido that made them practically beg for sex. They were going to fit into the party very nicely.
The top-of-the-hour newsbreak interrupted the music. Anya frowned, bored. She wanted another couple of guys to mess with.
“… last three days, searchers have been concentrating their efforts in the woods. Authorities are beginning to lose hope, but the family is trying to stay optimistic. Mr. Nelson was last wearing khaki pants, a white polo shirt, and a maroon bathrobe. If anyone sees Mr. Nelson, they are asked to contact authorities immediately. He is not considered dangerous, but due to his illness, he is apt to be very disoriented and confused. …”
Anya blocked the news from her mind. It was tragic, and saddened her. But what upset her more was that the news reports that the family was still optimistic were absolute nonsense. Though her sense was not as strong as grandmother's — yet, she could sense that the family was secretly hoping he wouldn’t be found, that their ordeal of caring for him was over. She shook her head sadly. Lord knows, they’d suffered through enough — watching their loved father and grandfather slowly and irrevocably lose his mental faculties, until he recognized none of his own kin and couldn’t even complete the simplest of sentences.
Something moving outside the window caught Anya’s attention, derailing her sad train of thought. She glanced up, and as recognition set in, she gasped. She pushed the intercom button. “Grandmother, please come up front. Hurry!”
**********
The old woman eased the old haggard man to the chair, and then sat slowly beside him, her arm on his as she sought to reassure him. His eyes were vacant and uncomprehending, and the tattered robe he wore spoke volumes of the ordeal he’d been through.
“Should I call the police?” Anya asked softly so as not to startle the man.
Her grandmother looked at Mr. Nelson, and then at Anya. “Not yet, child.” She looked back at the poor man. “Run to the concession stand and get something for him to drink. Juice would probably be best.”
As Anya left, the old woman began rubbing his arm gently. “Don’t be afraid,” she said soothingly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
**********
The old man sat quietly on the couch, staring unseeingly at Anya and the old woman. His face seemed a lot more peaceful than when Anya had first spotted him; she attributed that to her grandmother’s magic and care.
“Well, are you going to call?” Anya asked. She was getting increasingly curious. Her grandmother was up to something.
The old woman shook her head. “Why? So he can go back to a family which doesn’t want him? Or so he can be warehoused in a nursing home?” She dropped her eyes. “That’s no life.” She stared directly at Anya, and the girl realized that her grandmother knew what she was feeling. “You know.” It wasn’t an accusation - just a statement of fact. “You know that his family doesn’t want him any more.”
Anya looked confused. “Then what?”
**********
The old woman led the Mr. Nelson to the locker room and stood him in the shower. Still not comprehending, he just stood as she reached in and turned on the water, closing the curtain as she slipped her hand out of the stall.
The pink mist seemed especially thick, almost fog-like in its consistency. For a long time, the old woman stood by the shower, watching the mist, patiently waiting.
**********
The young lady sat on the office couch, wearing a skimpy one-piece bathing suit. “I don’t understand,” she said, her face echoing the confusion in her voice.
The old woman closed her eyes, smiling sadly. “Tell me what you remember.”
The girl frowned. “I don’t really know. So much is … confused, like fragments of memories.”
The old woman nodded. “You were very sick.”
The girl nodded slowly. “I remember being told that. That I was very sick and wouldn’t ever get better.” She looked at the old woman, then her eyes went wide. “But there are so many other memories.”
The old woman smiled. “I helped you get over your sickness.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I had Alzheimer’s, didn’t I?” A growing confidence was entering her voice. “I’m … I was … Arnold Nelson. Isn’t that right?” The old woman nodded. “And now … I’m …,” the girl glanced down at her body, “a girl?” Her nose wrinkled as she puzzled this fact. “I don’t understand. How?”
The old woman smiled sadly. “Magic, of course.” She smiled as she watched the girl’s reaction. “My magic can transform you, erase illness and years. But it can only change you into a girl.” She laughed. “Such is the limit of my powers.”
The girl looked confused. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” the old woman admitted. “I’m not really sure. Except that Anya — my granddaughter — noticed that your family really was tired, and didn’t want to care for you any more.”
The girl shook her head. She was taking this remarkably well, considering the magnitude of the changes she’d just been through. Maybe having seen the despair of a depression or the horrors of war had tempered her against panic. “So now what do I do?”
The old woman laughed. “Anything you want to, dearie. You have a new life, a new body. You can do anything you want.” She leaned forward. “How would you like a job?”
The girl’s eyes widened. “A job?”
“You told me that once, a long time ago, you’d been a lifeguard. And this _is_ a water park.”
The girl thought for a long time. Finally she smiled, for the first time since the change. “I think I’d like that.”
The old woman grinned. “I have some apartments next door. You can move in one — until you decide where to stay.” She stood slowly, easing the girl up. “Why don’t you look around, play a little bit? Enjoy yourself.”
The girl’s smile seemed to brighten with each passing second. She’d been given a reprieve from a terrible sentence. “Fun. I haven’t done anything fun in … I don’t know how long.”
**********
The girl sat with Anya, watching the park patrons slowly filing out as the sun began to set. Anya glanced at her and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
The girl looked at her. “What don’t you understand?”
Anya wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out just what to say. “You. Your reaction. You seem almost ... happy. The change usually throws people. But you...”
The girl laughed. “Funny, isn’t it.” Then she shook her head. “Have you ever been a prisoner in your own mind?” Her voice betrayed no emotion, none of the anguish that should have been there. “It’s terrifying. You see things, but can’t understand them. You hear things, and don’t know the sounds. You can’t recognize anything. You can’t associate your memories — which are still clear — with the outside world. You start to forget how to do things. Even the memories begin to get confusing.”
Anya’s eyes widened. “I had no idea what it was like.”
The girl nodded. “I’ve seen things that, at the time, were more terrifying. My father’s face on the day he got fired and we had to face the depression with no money, no jobs, nothing. The despair on all the faces, not sure where their next meal was coming from. And we went from that right into the war. Can you imagine the horror of watching your squad, your friends, torn apart by machine guns and mortars as you try to capture a tiny piece of coral that no-one had ever heard of?” She shook her head. “Of course you can’t. But that’s nothing. Not compared to knowing and feeling your mind go.”
Anya shuddered. “It sounds so ...”
“Frightening? Terrifying? Horrible?” The girl laughed again. “Trust me ... it is. Compared to all that, being changed into a girl is kind of bland.”
Anya shook her head. “I still don’t ... what about your family?”
The girl snorted. “They loved me, but they were tired of me. After I lost my wife, they had to take care of me. And they just got tired.” She laughed ironically. “Can you blame them? Watching dear old dad lose his mind?” She looked down at her body. “Besides, I got about 70 more years of life. Pretty good deal if you ask me.”
Anya nodded her understanding, but was still confused. “But what about the gender? Isn’t that ...”
The girl laughed aloud. “Weird? I suppose it is. But,” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “after all these years, I guess I’m entitled to indulge my curiosity.” She watched Anya's reaction and smiled. “Oh yes, some of us old geezers wondered, too. It wasn’t just your generation that invented gender curiosity.”
Anya stood abruptly. “It’s getting late, and there’s a lot to do.” She glanced at the setting sun. “There's probably no time to get you into an apartment tonight. Besides, you wouldn’t have anything there.” She glanced at the girl. “If you’d like, you can stay with me until we get you settled.”
The girl stood, smiling. “I think I’d like that. You’re a very nice young lady, and you’ve been so helpful.”
Anya smiled. “Okay, if you help me close up the park, we’ll go get a bite to eat.” She started toward the pump house, but stopped and turned back. “By the way, what are we going to call you? Arnold just doesn’t fit anymore, does it.”
The girl laughed. “No, I guess it doesn’t.” She closed her eyes, looking thoughtful. “How about Elizabeth. That was my dear wife’s name. Somehow, I think she’d be honored that I use her name, don’t you?”
Anya smiled. She knew — she could sense — that she’d made a very good friend today, and helped a poor old man. All in all, it had been a good day.
FIN
Comments
So this is the origin of Liz
This kind of explains some of her behavior in BB: The Sub. As a man, Liz was a real go-getter and I think that Liz will be too.
You just barely touch on the horrors of Alzheimer's. Losing your memory and knowing that you have lost a piece of yourself or looking at something and being absolutely unable to recall its name. I makes you wish that something like Bikini Beach could be there for just that reason.
Alzheimer's
Horrifying.
Terry Pratchett faced it, apparently, with resolve and calm acceptance, and he went before it got too bad.
Bill Mauldin, shown one of his "Up Front", Willie and Joe cartoons from WW2 would say "That's a good one. Who did it?" ... and died after he was scalded in his bath tub. (Or was that Leslie Charteris?)
And i watched my grandmother - the loving, gentle but strong woman, the Southern belle who worked as an inspector in a bomber plant and was personally responsible for the detection of two saboteurs, who essentially raised me for much of my pre-school/kindergarten years because my parents both worked - the woman for whom i would have cheerfully sacrifice my left arm (i'm left-handed) if it would have prevented it - sink further and further into dementia and a fearful view of a world she could no longer understand ... for ten or twelve years, before she finally, mercifully, was released shortly after he one-hundred-fourth birthday.
If - no, when, because my mother, the woman who got her PhD at seventy-four, ran her own advertising business for years, and raised four children, making sure we all knew that the most important thing we could do is to be ourselves, was beginning to sink badly in her late eighties as well when she died- as i say, when i am handed that diagnosis, and begin to see it myself ... i am going to take the coward's way out.
And, since i'm sixty-eight, it's not THAT far off.
Bikini Beach
I liked this one...good story
++++++++++++
Cartman: A fine day of plundering we had boys. What about yourselves? Here you are lads, plenty of booty to go around. A round of grog for me boys. A round of grog for everyone!
Bikini Beach
This old body only has one thing to say, Where can I find this Park "Bikini Beach" ?
Richard
Excuse me.
Can you tell me the way to Bikini Beach please? :)
hugs
Grover
Good story
Thanks for the break Elrod. Seriously its a good story. But I blame you for taking me away from my writing. ;-)
Bikini Beach: Old Mister Nelson ElrodW
Glad that Old Mister Nelson became Liz, but Anya abused her authority when she made those fraternity boys into oversexed bimbos. If they have sex as bimbos, is Anya not guilty of causing rape? And what if her victims get pregnant? Is she or her grandmother ready to take responsibility for their condition?
May Your Light Forever Shine
Has happened befor.
If you read some of his stories before Stan this had been used before as a teaching method. The only difference and I guess (not condoning it either) is that they may not remember as they will think of it as a dream. Neither Anya or Grandmother has any qualms against using it on men who have done it to women before.
Alzheimer's and memory
My father, whom is currently suffering from the disease, said not long after his diagnosis; "The terrible thing is not what you can't remember, but forgetting that you can't remember."
Elrod Got the Alzheimers Right
My Dad had Alzheimers.
He was a successful floral designer, and one of the saddest moments of his disease's progression was when he realized hat he couldn't do design work any more. He cried for days.
When people asked why my sister and I didn't seem to mourn very much when he finally passed, we told people that we'd been mourning the loss of our father for a couple years. His body was still there. His heart beat, and his lungs filled with air. He could walk and talk.
But the vital, loving man who had raised us was gone.
That's the horror of Alzheimers. It destroys the mind of the victim and wears out the hearts of the caregivers.
And Elrod got both of those facts right.