Sparkle

by Jerry Cole

  Chapter Ten

  Bad news comes in sets of three.

  Simon had forgotten that. If he had remembered, he would have been more prepared when the phone call came. He would have been on his toes, looking for the next blow. He wasn’t. He was careless at a time when carelessness was inexcusable.

  It was late on Tuesday when his private line rang. His mother, Mrs. Burns’ health, took a sudden turn for the worse and her personal physician had been called. She was stable now, but there were some things they needed to discuss. Could he come this evening?

  “I’m afraid things don’t look hopeful,” the medical staff officer said on the phone. That was all she was allowed to say over the phone.

  Simon might never be able to explain how he made it from his home to the remote facility. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t understand what the doctor and longtime family friend was saying about infections and her advanced condition. The only thing he heard was the phrase “within the week.” She would be gone “within the week.”

  He signed the paperwork to put her on hospice care, letting the last days of her life pass by as sedated and comfortable as possible. He even sat by her bed as she slept, watching as she laboriously pulled each breath into her lungs with the assistance of an oxygen tube. He held her hand and sang to her, knowing that if she woke up, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him, but would keep waiting for his arrival.

  This wasn’t the first time he had kept vigil by her bed as she battled for her life. He was familiar with the way compound infirmities ate away at her already limited cognitive abilities. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that it wouldn’t be Alzheimer’s that killed her. In the end, the cause of death would be something much more common. Pneumonia.

  Simon’s heart trembled with the feeling of loss. There is nothing worse than watching people you love slip away and being helpless to stop them. He felt that way when his father passed, and when Jerrod and Aaron gave their letters of resignation and the night Sparkle walked out of his life.

  But you weren’t helpless. You could have stopped him. Why didn’t you?

  Simon shook his head. There was no use thinking about it now. Sparkle was gone and most likely would not be coming back.

  Coward.

  Simon’s phone buzzed with a phone call from his secretary. Releasing his mother’s hand for the first time in several hours, Simon stepped out of the room to answer it.

  “Mr. Burns, you have a 9 o’clock this morning. Do you want me to call ahead and reschedule?”

  “Yes, uh, just clear my schedule for the next two weeks. My mother took a turn for the worst, and we don’t expect her to—”

  “I understand, sir. I’m sorry for your loss. How long will you be out?”

  “I think two weeks should be enough.” Simon nodded to himself, thankful that Kathy was perceptive enough not to force him to talk anymore.

  “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of the paperwork.”

  “Could you ask Jerrod to handle anything pressing for me?”

  “This is his last week, sir.”

  “I know, but ask him anyway. As a personal favor.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks.”

  Simon hung up the phone and returned to his mother’s bedside, holding her hand and waiting for the end to come.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said to her sleeping form. It was futile and he knew it. But desperate times made men long for the impossible. Simon was too pragmatic to be able to fool himself and pray for a miracle. As he watched the final breaths of his mother’s life slip away, he began to accept that by the end of the week, he would be completely alone.

  How had that happened? What misstep had he made that landed him here? And more importantly, was it too late to change?

  ***

  Sparkle retrieved his package and left the overpriced department store feeling grim. It was bad enough that the “relationship that never was” haunted his dreams, but now it was taking time out of his waking life. The heavy package was an unwelcome reminder that once he clung to the hope that he and Simon could be something permanent. Maybe not an elderly couple in matching rocking chairs on a farm in Vermont, but at least companions for a while. Was that too much to hope for?

  One thing was for sure; he was not going to humiliate himself and drop this stupid kitchen gadget off at his place. Once Sparkle Jones stormed out of your life, he never came crawling back. He didn’t even want the blasted thing. It had been Simon who insisted they order one for the house. Annoyed and impatient, he called Jerrod to vent.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Sorry, man. I’m swamped.”

  “I thought this was your last week?”

  “It is, but my boss is out, and I’m filling in for him on a few things that need immediate action,” Jerrod said with a sigh. If he closed his eyes, Sparkle could see Jerrod sitting at his desk with his glasses in his hand as he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

  “He’s out of town?”

  “No, I heard that his mom got pretty sick and it doesn’t look good. But you didn’t hear that from me. Officially he’s just out for two weeks.”

  Sparkle swallowed hard as he got his first piece of news about Simon in three days. It hit him hard, like a punch in the gut.

  “Oh,” was all he could say.

  “Oh? Are you okay? Did you and Ronnie Peterson break up?”

  “You can’t break up with somebody who was never yours to begin with,” Sparkle replied. And that was true. That had been the deal. Simon had him but he never really had Simon.

  “Well, we’ll have to catch up next week. I have to go,” Jerrod said, hanging up without bothering to say bye. Sparkle barely noticed.

  His mother is dying. Is that why he was all freaked out about being poisoned? Was he just tripping because he was facing a major crisis?

  You can forgive that, can’t you? How would you react if it was your mother? You fall apart when they kill off your favorite soap opera characters!

  Suddenly the weight of the package in his hand didn’t seem quite so burdensome. In fact, it didn’t feel heavy at all. It seemed like his ticket to following his heart and keeping his dignity. Maybe it was the years he spent in church next to his mother, sandwiched between the heaving bosoms of ecstatic worshippers, but Sparkle was a man that believed in signs, miracles, and fate. Everything happened for a reason, and there was a plan and purpose for every life. Maybe he was causing his own misery by walking away. Maybe he was setting himself up for failure and selling himself short by pretending that what happened between them had been meaningless, just because it was brief.

  There was only one way to find out.

  ***

  Sparkle was sitting by the elevator bank when Simon walked in. It was impossible to know how long he had been there, but it was obvious he wanted to talk. That was the last thing Simon wanted. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to cry and scream and yell. He wanted to punch Sparkle in the face for forcing him to face his life all alone and then kiss him desperately to make him stay.

  “You going to invite me up or are we going to do this right here?” Sparkle’s sultry eyes were soft with emotion.

  Simon didn’t say anything but held the elevator door open for him to follow. Sparkle grabbed the oversized parcel he was carrying and obediently boarded, and they rode up in silence.

  “This is for you,” Sparkle said, dropping the box on an end table as he entered the penthouse apartment. “How have you been?”

  “What do you want?” Simon said in an angry growl.

  “What?”

  “You left. You left all of the things I gave you here, so you had no intentions to come back. Now, here you are. What do you want?”

  “I want to drop this thing that YOU paid for off at your place and maybe give us a chance to talk.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I miss you.”

  “Then why did you leave?”


  “Because I gave you—,” Sparkle thought better of his words and rephrased. “Because I thought we had something special between us and you showed me that you didn’t trust me.”

  “I couldn’t trust you,” Simon said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you miss me? Even a little?” Sparkle asked.

  Simon exhaled heavily and smirked at the severe understatement the word “miss” represented.

  “I’ve had you on my mind since the moment you left,” Simon said.

  “Then why didn’t you…”

  “Because that wasn’t part of the plan. This was supposed to be about us not being lonely.”

  “And I’m not lonely when I’m with you,” Sparkle replied.

  “Right, but I’m supposed to be okay when you’re not here. When you’re gone, I’m supposed to be fine. I’m supposed to…” tears slid down Simon’s face, unchecked. The past four days had stretched him to his emotional limit, and he didn’t have anything left to hold up his pride.

  “I’m not fine, either,” Sparkle admitted, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Simon’s six-foot frame.

  “She’s going to die, and I’m going to be alone,” Simon whimpered.

  “Who?” Sparkle feigned ignorance.

  “My mother,” Simon answered, trying to pull himself together.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She’s dying. These are her last days. I have been there for the last two days. I just came home to get some sleep and change clothes.” Simon moved away from the soothing comfort of Sparkle’s hug and walked stiffly to the master bedroom.

  Sparkle didn’t follow him. Simon was a proud man; he needed a moment to collect himself. The last thing Sparkle wanted to do was to strip the man of the small dignities that he desperately needed. Instead, he busied himself in the kitchen, calling downstairs to the concierge to order the things he needed.

  Apparently, Simon hadn’t yet informed Lupita that Sparkle was not eating dinner there anymore, and several days’ worth of dinners were stacked up in the back of the fridge. Sparkle smiled and scavenged what he could from the prepared plates for his soup.

  When Simon came out, Sparkle was readying two steaming bowls of chicken and rice soup with greens and garlic bread. It wasn’t Michelin star fare, but it would do the trick.

  “You took your time in there.”

  “My stomach hasn’t been right,” Simon smirked, recalling how this estrangement began.

  “Well, this should help.” Sparkle ignored the implications behind those words. It seemed that Simon had finally resigned himself to the fact that Sparkle had nothing to do with his tummy troubles. There was no point in bringing that up again. The two men sat down to eat without any of the normal banter that came with dinner. A companionable silence grew between them with Sparkle casting worried glances over Simon as he picked at his food.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “No, it’s very good,” Simon looked up at Sparkle and searched his eyes. “You look different.”

  Sparkle ran a self-conscious hand through his hair and smiled.

  “I’m trying something new. A little less Sparkle and a little more Sean. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah I do, but I wouldn’t call it less Sparkle. Just, less flashy, maybe. I feel like I can see you and I like what I see.”

  Sparkle put his spoon down and turned until he was facing Simon. Sparkle cupped Simon’s face in his hands and looked him deep in his eyes.

  “I can see you too, so when are you going to stop pretending like you don’t need me? I know what we said; no drama, no happily ever after, but why not? What do we have to lose? I’m right here, right now, saying let's go for broke and get our happily-ever-after.”

  Simon pulled Sparkle into his arms and kissed him hard, sucking the soft, succulent flesh of his bottom lip into his greedy mouth. Sparkle took that as a yes and gave in to the elation of having a boyfriend who might be worth mentioning. Simon pulled him into his lap and Sparkle wrapped his arms around Simon’s neck.

  “I just have one request,” Simon said, resting his forehead against Sparkle’s.

  “Anything.”

  “Come and meet my mother.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunset Gardens was not what Sparkle had been expecting. He had expected a massive geriatric ward with summer camp style arts and crafts and patronizing orderlies. It was strangely upsetting to see that it was a buzzing community full of elderly people in various stages of advanced age and illness. He saw couples holding hands as they received their medications. He heard an announcement from “The Walking Club” about the next outing.

  “Mother is upstairs, on a closed floor because her Alzheimer’s is more advanced,” Simon said, strolling through the converted mansion.

  “Oh,” Sparkle said, eyeing the beige-colored sensors that some of the residents wore on their ankles and wrists.

  “It’s only for those in the early stages of dementia or Alzheimer’s,” said a pretty woman in fuchsia scrubs. “Sometimes they wander away unsupervised. Everybody else is free to come and go as they please.”

  “Hello Vicky, this is Simon, we are here to see my mother. How is she doing?”

  “She was awake the last time I checked on her. She is taking a little broth and water, so you picked a good day.”

  Despite the pleasantness of her tone and upbeat color scheme, Sparkle couldn’t miss the sadness in her eyes. It was the end and they both knew it. The impending sadness haunted both of their smiles, making them look pathetic, instead of comforting.

  “Do all of the residents get one eventually?” Sparkle was a little aghast at the idea of tagging human beings, though he could see the logistic necessity for it in some cases.

  “No, some of our residents are here temporarily. Others maintain their full mental capacity but need more care than their families can provide. Others are just old and sick; the stress of keeping a home and the isolation of not being able to spend time with friends and family easily makes living in an assisted-living complex a better option,” Vicky explained.

  “Hmm, must be nice to be able to afford options,” Sparkle said with a subtle roll of the eyes.

  “We better head on up,” Simon interjected, dragging Sparkle to the staircase behind him.

  “What was that for?” Sparkle pulled his wrist out of Simon’s grasp.

  “Are you serious?”

  “It just seems to me that unless a person is extremely sick, their family should take care of them.”

  “You mean, like me? Why don’t I take care of my mother?”

  “No, I don’t mean that at all. I’m just saying, moving here because you get lonely hardly seems like a sane option. What about family?”

  “You mean like you and your mom? Or how about us, thirty years from now? Who will come and take care of us?”

  Simon laced his fingers through Sparkle’s and squeezed his hand tightly. Sparkle was taken aback by the suggestion that they could make it together for thirty years. They had only just decided to be an official couple the night before. But now was not the time point out those little details.

  “You have me, and I have you, and if we make it through the next thirty days, it will be a miracle. Thirty years? Ha!” Sparkle said, throwing his head back in mock disbelief.

  Simon smiled at Sparkle and kissed him swiftly on the lips before ringing the buzzer to be allowed into the closed wing of the facility. If the rest of the complex was a summer camp, this ward was more like a nursery. The dining area, living room and small kitchen area dominated the center of the floor. The private bedrooms surrounded the common areas, leaving no place hidden from the watchful eyes of the caretakers. Sparkle noted that the doors didn’t have locks on them, the cabinets and windows had child-proof locks and the decor was much more bright and lively than the subdued greens and stark white of downstairs.

  “Oh, Mr. Burns. You can go right on in; she
is having a good day today,” said yet another woman in scrubs, purple this time. The friendly brunette tried hard not to stare at Sparkle but only succeeded in looking shifty-eyed and nervous.

  “Sparkle Jones.” Sparkle offered the woman a manicured hand with a clear coat that rivaled her own.

  “Melissa, I’m the medical officer here,” she said, laughing nervously.

  “What’s a medical officer?” Sparkle gave the young woman a dubious look.

  “It basically means I keep track of the meds and the day-to-day medical needs of the residents here. I do weigh-ins and blood pressure checks, schedule check-ups and order supplies.”

  “So, you’re a lifeguard for old people.”

  Melissa laughed softly as she nodded her head.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Oh, well then thank you for looking after his mom,” Sparkle said, laying it on thick.

  Melissa swallowed hard and gave another nervous giggle before excusing herself to deal with another resident.

  “You’ll be the talk of the town around here for a week; you know that?” Simon whispered, showing Sparkle into Victoria Burns’ room.

  “I can’t help it,” Sparkle said slyly.

  Victoria Burns may have been in her last days, but she was in high spirits when the pair walked in. Her face lit up like a young girl, and she waved one withered hand vigorously before collapsing into a wet, hacking cough that seemed to rattle her bones and sap her of her energy. The mask she used to receive her breathing treatments sat on the nightstand beside her like an eerie reminder that such treatments were mostly placebo. They made her comfortable but wouldn’t cure her. Even the hose pumping oxygen into her nostrils was a half measure, a stopgap as they awaited the inevitable.

  Simon went to her side and held her up as she coughed with alarming force. The coughing spell seemed to last forever, producing nothing but a few tears and worried looks.

  “You’re so nice,” Victoria said to her son, patting his hand as she regained her composure. Even like this, Sparkle could tell that she was a lady, accustomed to being genteel and elegant, even in the face of a debilitating illness.