APRIL 2055

Gila swiped her time card across the detector and turned to the desk nurse.

"I'm gonna go sit with him, Louise." She dropped her purse and sweater into the bottom desk drawer and headed down the hall.

"Why? Don't you have something better to do? A young girl like you, with a Saturday night off and all, I'd think you can find better things than sit with an old man."

Gila turned with a grin and a shrug. "Oi, I got no life, mate." And, she thought as she walked toward his closed door, he's got little life left. She knew he wouldn't last much longer, and she'd been caring for him for five years. He was like family, old man Jeff Mitchell, and one interesting man at that.

No matter where you live in the world, retirement and assisted living facilities are very ugly places. Not because they weren't attractively fashioned to make the old folks feel comfortable, or weren't equipped with the latest technology. It was because people came there to die, pure and simple. It was the last stretch of road to the very end of the road.

But even at eighty-three, Jeff was a treasure. No matter how he deteriorated, how he ached with old bloke pains, he always kept his spirits up. She enjoyed him more than most of her friends, and as his time came closer and closer, she wanted nothing more than to spend his final moments at his bedside.

He was alone. Completely, utterly alone in the world. No family. No friends left. No children. That made her chuckle. Children weren't prevalent among poofters anyway, but her bet was that Jeff would have been a spectacular dad. In the few years she'd known him, he'd proven a far better father than the one she was biologically connected to, that's for bloody damn sure.

At twenty-one she took a job at the Bintswall Assisted Care Complex outside of Sydney, a quiet, beautiful old estate that had been renovated to accommodate wheelchairs, walkers, hospital beds, medical services, and as many old people with money as the district would approve. The original work was done thirty years earlier, and Jeff told her that it was the first big contract his plumbing company had got. So, he figured since he put the plumbing in the bloody place, he should go out on it as well.

"Gila, love. Have any idea how many dunnies I put in and never sat on? Boggles the imagination, love."

She quietly entered his dim room. And now, he couldn't even sit on a toilet. Couldn't sit anywhere. The heart monitor beeped and she heard the soft hiss of oxygen; he'd pulled the tube away from his nose yet again. Tenderly, she replaced it and one of his pretty blue-green eyes opened, gave her a glare.

"Hate that bloody thing, Gila."

She pulled a chair close. "Me, too. How you goin' today, mate?"

"I'm knackered. Ready." But he brightened a bit, shuffled on his mattress, groaned. "Nobody should get this old."

She smiled, straightened his sheet. "Well, I'm glad you did."

His head nodded and a twinkle sparked in his eye. There was so much life still in there, she thought. As always, she marveled at his unbelievable luck to have escaped the diseases that had taken most of his past lovers. When he arrived at Bintswall, he was fairly healthy, for a man of seventy-eight. At first, she though he was one of those blokes who came to the home just for companionship, not realizing he'd never leave. But she watched him closely, witnessed the terrible crumbling of his health, the erosion of his physical strength, and listened to him. She believed he was probably among the very few who knew the truth. It all tore at her young heart.

Gila had been careful not to become close to many of the residents. After all, it was undeniable proof of human mortality, hard for anyone to deal with. But Jeff was different. Special. He lived a full life he wasn't ashamed of, talked candidly about it, shared his wisdom and jokes even when feeling his worst. And she loved him for it. This was the one that would end it all for her. She knew it. When Jeff was gone, so would she be.

Gila was engaged to be married to a stockbroker from the States. A beautiful, powerful man who oddly enough, loved her simplicity. Truth be told, she'd only accepted the proposal after Jeff gave his rousing approval.

"That's a lovin' bloke even I could live with, Gila. Take the leap, love. He's worth it."

Her mind wondered as her eyes toured the sterile room. No flowers or cards, except those from her. Tens of humorous cards she cajoled the staff into signing with her. Cards with sentiments like, Get well or we're putting ice water in your enema; Old farts turn up missing every day, you still here? And her favorite; Love goes on forever, just like you.

Forever. Forever. When did it really occur to Gila that Jeff wouldn't be one of those things that would go on forever? The last six months had been bloody hell for him. His kidneys had failed, he developed stomach problems and couldn't eat, but the worst for him was the old age palsy that shook his hands, sometimes so hard that he couldn't hold the newspaper. His heart was failing, but his brain was still sharp as a knife. So much misery and still he always found a way to smile. Life was just too unfair.

"What's on your mind, love?"

She blinked from her thoughts. "Tell me a story, Jeff."

"You've heard all my stories, little girl. Ask me something else."

With a sigh, she leaned forward, ran her finger along his shaking hand. "If you had it all to do over again, would you change anything?" Of course, thinking she had Jeff Mitchell figured out, she expected him to say "Fuck, no!", but as usual, he surprised her.

"Yeah, love. Can't live this long and not do a double take."

"What? What would you do different?"

"Not too much. Been a lucky bloke. Had my share of the good things in life. Work, money, love. Well, most of the time." He fell silent.

"Daniel," Gila said softly.

"Yeah, Danny. Good mate, good man. Great friend. Not too shabby a lover, either, then."

"Sounds better than most marriages I know."

"Uh huh. Was. But, well, there are always things you coulda done better. Different. Bloody hell. Thousands of choices, ya know. Sometimes in any given day."

More silence. Silence Gila couldn't bear.

"Can I ask ya somethin', Jeff?"

"Anything, love." His trembling hand attempted to grasp hers.

His eyes rolled. "Fuck, Gila. I ain't up to it just now."

She giggled softly. "Just my luck, ain't it?"

"Ahh, little girl. I'm a pathetic old poofter. Been pathetic since I was maybe fifty. When all those younger blokes weren't interested in this old flaccid cock, ya know. But in my whole life, I spent far more time alone than with a lover. Danny was the longest relationship I ever had. And he died just three years into it. Bloody hell. Daft bastard just couldn't see the sense of traffic lights."

She could recite the saga of Daniel Kimmer. His stupidity, his irreverence, his joyful playfulness. And his death. Was that the end of everything for Jeff, she wondered? He never had another lover after that fatal accident. And at the time, he was less than fifty.

"But you wanna know about women, do ya? Ready, love?"

She grinned. "Always ready for whatever you're gonna shock me with."

"Yes, Gila. I've been with three different women in my life."

"Wow!" She was sure the answer was going to be something else completely. Something silly about not being able to get it up, or actually wanting the woman's boyfriend. "Really?"

"Really. The first was a Sheila from the office. I was just curious, figuring maybe I was missin' something. At that time in my life," he smiled with a bob of his grey eyebrow. "I wasn't. It was okay and all, but it was blokes that interested me."

He winced and she reached for the buzzer.

"No. No Gila. I'm riding the last bloody roller coaster here. Let me ride with some dignity."

Her eyes dropped.

"Just don't let me shit the fuckin' bed, love. Ya do that and all my dignity goes out the window." He teased, took several shallow breaths. "Now, where was I? Ah, yeah. Women."

"Women," she was choking back the tears, knowing he was right. It was close to the end.

"The second, well she was pretty enough. I was goin' through a long dry spell. Wanted to get some. Women, they always looked at me, so one day, I figured, what the fuck. I was in my thirties, and it all seemed different to me than that last time. A bit better. Kinda nice. But then I met a great bloke who didn't dump me for three whole months." A raspy chuckle escaped his chest. He pulled the oxygen tube from his face.

She reached for it then took her hand away.

"Thank you, love," and he smiled.

"Yes. The third."

She waited as his eyes drifted into the distance, seeing his memories.

He spoke softly, slowly. "I always thought it was like plumbing, mate. This fits here, that doesn't. Parts. It was a few years after dad died. Couldn't get used to bein' alone, I guess. Was still spending more time out of the house than in it. Loneliness felt bigger. Harsher. Met her in a pub and we talked. Talked all fuckin' night. Did that night after night. She never pushed, so I figured, this Sheila got me pegged for sure. But the problem was, I found myself lookin' for her face in a crowd. Missing her minutes after I left her. Wanting more. Kinda baffling, I can tell ya. But there was something about her that filled me.

"The first time with her was nothing like I expected. I mean, I wasn't confused or anything like that," he coughed several times, 'til his face became red and Gila began to reach for him. Shaking his head, he calmed, pressed his shaking palm against his chest. "I'm okay." He looked into her eyes. "Really, little girl. This is okay."

Gila sat on the bed close to him, her hand on his hip.

"See, darlin'. With her, I discovered more about myself than I ever learned before. The sex was good. Sometimes fantastic. She was soft, round in places I couldn't keep from touching. But it wasn't always about the sex. It was something else. Something I think I was starving for. I kind of…completion. A balance. Here." His hand pressed on his failing heart.

"You loved her."

"I reckon maybe I did. But one thing a poofter can always do, love, is fuck things up in a royal way. Especially this poofter."

"What did you do?"

His eyes became soft, wet. "I got scared, mate. Had this sudden displaced feeling about being untrue to myself. I was inside of her, feeling her coming tremble all along me. Watching that blissful loss of self in her eyes, and I fucking got scared…I left her, Gila."

A tear crawled down his pained, wrinkled face.

"So, love. If there was one more chance, if I could do anything different, it would have been that. I would try to be more…wise, for seeing. I would take the gift of her love and hold it close for the rest of my days."

He was silent for a long time, as Gila watched the monitors slow, glow with an alert that would call no one to his room. He was old. Dying. No one need come to him until it was over. To announce the time of death and type it on a piece of paper.

"Jeff."

"Yes, love?" It was a whisper.

"What was her name?"

A smile spread soft across his face and she could see the handsome young man he once was.

"Her name was Christine."

Gila pushed his thinning grey hair back. "This is from Christine," she said then lowered her lips to his. Soft. Loving. And his shaking hand cupped the back of her head lightly. His lips responded, his tongue sliding along hers.

"I love you, Jeff. Thank you for everything you've given me. Farewell, my friend."

Sitting at this side, she watched his eyes close, the beep of the heart monitor slowed to a line, and a tear rolled down her face.