Open Writing

'Read the label. Go on, read the label,' Gwen laughs as she hands Thelma her birthday present. Thelma adjusts her glasses and reads,

OLD AGE PILLS

For Heartburn take Pink Pills
For Arthritis take Orange Pills
For Wrinkles take Blue Pills
For Wind take Yellow Pills
For Forgetfulness take Red Pills
For Depression take the Lot

Thelma takes out a big red pill. Having reached the age of seventy, she feels she needs the 'memory enhancing' pill most. Gwen decides she should have one too. And some blue pills for wrinkles. They both feel they could do with a bucket of blues.

Thelma lets herself into her cozy unit, the sound of her friend's laughter still ringing in her ears. There is a knock at the door. Thelma is surprised to find Tom holding a bunch of homegrown roses. He looks at Thelma's bright happy face and wishes he could look as good as that. He's only a couple of years her senior but sometimes Tom feels old enough to be her father. If only he could find the courage to ask Thelma out, but why would someone as bright and vivacious as Thelma want to go out with a doddery old man like him? He always said that once you reached three score years and ten it's downhill all the way. And lately he couldn't be bothered with the garden and yesterday he was surprised to find himself standing by the flowerbed wondering why he was there. Thelma fusses in the kitchen arranging her roses and Tom notices the large bottle of pills on the bench. He reads the directions and furtively jots down the name.

The next day, Tom goes to the chemist's shop and asks for a jar of Old Age Pills. The pharmacist laughs and says that if he had anything like that he'd be sunbaking in the Bahamas by now. Tom wonders where Thelma could have got her pills and remembers that she is always talking about 'The Power Of The Mind', and 'Life Is What You Make It'. New Age stuff. Maybe they were one of those naturopathic remedies she was always raving about. He hurries to the Health Food shop and is amazed they have never heard of Old Age Pills. He decides to quiz Thelma.

'Are those pills any good?'

'Great. I can't leave them alone,' she replies. Tom fidgets in his chair and finally asks where she bought them only to hear that they were a gift.

While Thelma is in the kitchen, Tom quickly tips out a handful of pills and slips them into his pocket. He grabs a biro and hastily jots down on the palm of his hand, flux pink, earth orange, he skips the wrinkle one, not his scene, but definitely wind yellow, forgetfulness red, sad the lot. He hurries home and can't wait to try them. Down goes a yellow one. He smiles, no settee sneakers tonight. Then a red one, so he won't forget to take a pink pill in the morning.

A couple of days later, Thelma is surprised to see Tom vigorously trimming his overgrown roses and pulling out piles of weeds. And is that a wink along with the cheery wave? The cheeky devil. Thelma has to admit that she finds this vibrant, energized Tom rather attractive. Why, he is practically running behind that lawn mower. And he remembered to bring in their garbage bins last night.

Tom becomes a regular visitor and starts doing Thelma's garden as well as his own.

One day, as they share a cup of coffee at the kitchen table, Tom murmurs, 'I have something very important to ask you.'
Thelma looks at his flushed face and holds her breath. Tom stares at his hands, twisting the coffee cup around and around.

'Yes, Tom?' she encourages. He carefully takes off his glasses, wipes them with his handkerchief and puts them back on. 'I . . . I stole some of your Old Age Pills,' he blurts out, 'and . . . '

Thelma laughs. 'You mean my king-size Smarties.' she replies. 'Aren't they great. Trust Gwen to . . . '

'Smarties?' he cries. 'Your Old Age Pills are . . . You mean I . . .'

Thelma smiles as she squeezes his hand. 'Did you really believe that a bottle of pills could cure all those complaints?'

'But I feel wonderful . . . How could . . . '

'Does it really matter how, Tom? You feel younger, don't you?'
He smiles and winks as he says, 'No doubt about that. Want me to prove it?' Thelma blushes, 'Oh, Tom . . .'

© Glenice Whitting

Glenice writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au