Debra and Susan sat in their chairs that morning, watching the sunbathers drone by on their way to the beach. Young men had so much sexual energy, Debra told Susan that day. “Do you remember when we’d head to Heron Cove like that? Nothing could stop us.”
Today Debra had woken up with a sharp pain in her left hip. Trudging down the creaky staircase of their house had taken longer than she cared to admit. So much noise, she’d woken Susan, “Honey, is something wrong? Can I help you?”
Susan had her own problems that day. Lately she’d been suffering from a neuralgia that made her arms and legs tingle in the morning and the evening. Her Doctor said it was only temporary, but it always coincided with heavy fatigue. She sat in her chair, bare feet intertwined with Debra’s. Years ago when they’d first bought this house and placed a pair of chairs at the front fence, they’d had smooth, thin feet that fit into Audrey Hepburn high heels. Now their feet barely fit into the low-cut boots, especially when they flew south for the winter. Debra had to take her shoes off on airplanes.
“What’s stopping us now, Debra? Why can’t we go to Heron Cove?”
Debra gave Susan a withering look that said, Are you nuts? We can’t walk two miles in sand, carrying fifteen pounds on our backs. Much better to sit here and watche the young boys and girls go by.
She had a point, Susan thought. Yes, dear, but we can at least try to relive what we once had, before we put all that away. Just once, honey, for my sake …
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