Millie pushed the meal cart into room 603 of the Pine Hills Assisted Living Center. Most of the residents took their meals down in the dining room, but tonight Margaret Anderson was feeling a bit under the weather. She and her husband, Lloyd, would dine together in their room this evening, with the television as their company.
"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Anderson," said Millie. I've got your dinner here. It's your favorite. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, with a nice cup of soup to start with."
"Thank you Millie," Margaret said with a smile. "I hope it wasn't too much bother for you."
"Don't be silly, Margaret. I love coming in and visiting with the two of you. You're practically royalty around here. And to think that each of you has lived more than a century. I wish I could sit with you all night and listen to the stories you have to tell."
"You're very sweet to say that, Millie," Lloyd chimed in. "We're just a couple of old fools that have managed to live a long time. I guess we just lived quiet lives is all. We didn't wear ourselves out, so we still have a little tread left on these tires."
"I'm not buying that for one second, Mr. Anderson. Not one second! You're quite the rascal, you are. You let me know if you need anything, okay folks?"
"We will, Millie. Thank you again," Lloyd said as Millie rolled the cart out of the room.
She smiled as she moved into the hallway. The couple was the talk of the unit. They doted on each other endlessly, still deeply in love after all these years. They were, Millie liked to say, an image of hope for the romantics of the world.
Lloyd sat beside Margaret at the little table in their room. To their left was a small living room area with a couch and television; across the room was an area that housed the twin beds they slept in, a dresser in between them.
Margaret was having what she called the twitches. Every so often, she'd have a few days where her hands would shake uncontrollably. Then, without reason, they would stop. This day was one of the bad days. Lloyd sat with her, soup spoon in hand, alternating one spoonful in her mouth and one in his. He had adored her from the day they'd first met almost eighty years ago. He adored her still.
It took them nearly an hour to finish dinner like that, but neither one minded. They loved being together no matter what they were doing.
They had been through so much together. Margaret had waited on Lloyd while he was overseas during World War II. She worried that she'd never see him again, but he returned to her, complete with some shrapnel in his butt and a few holes patched up. When he returned, he opened a deli and green grocer on the corner of Eighty-Fifth Street and Lexington Avenue. They ran the store together for decades, finally retiring in their mid-seventies.
They'd raised two children, a son and a daughter. Together, they dealt with the heartbreak of burying each child. Their son, William, was taken from them in an auto accident the summer after he'd finished high school. Their daughter, Mary, had passed away a few years ago, the big C chewing her up from the inside out. She had married and given birth to three children of her own, and those three have added seven great grandchildren to the family.
Since her passing, the family dispersed around the country, leaving Margaret and Lloyd as the last holdouts in the New York area. They'd get the occasional card or phone call, but as these things go, they were mostly forgotten by their heirs.
After dinner, Margaret and Lloyd moved to the couch to watch Wheel of Fortune. One of the contestants, an attorney from the midwest, had just won thirty-two thousand dollars in the bonus round. She had shouted out the answer of "A Brief Explanation" one second before the buzzer sounded.
It was while they were watching that the strange visitor appeared in their room. He must have moved very quietly, since they hadn't even heard him come in. He was dressed all in white, right down to his shoes. Even his hair was white, although he seemed to be sporting a healthy tan. The couple turned toward him when they'd realized he was there.
"Good evening, Margaret. Good evening, Lloyd."
"Good evening," Margaret replied. "And who might you be?"
"Oh, let's just call me...Clarence," he said with a little chuckle.
"Clarence. Okay then, Clarence. How can we help you?" Lloyd asked.
"Ah. I believe the question is...how can I help you? You see...I have a proposition for the two of you. Every so often, I become aware of some folks who might be interested in taking advantage of something I can offer them."
Lloyd looked at the man with suspicion. "Is that so?" he asked. "What might that be, and what does it cost?"
The man looked around the room, glancing at the television before replying. "How do you folks like it here?" he asked. "Are you happy? Is this how you imagined spending the rest of your lives?"
"It's as good a place as any," Lloyd replied.
"But are you happy, Lloyd? You're alive, but are the two of you really living?"
"I'm here with my lovely bride, Mister...Clarence. What more can a man ask for?"
"You know," Clarence began. "You both have several more years of life ahead of you. I'm sorry to say that they won't necessarily be that enjoyable, but I guess that's to be expected when you're in your second century, isn't it?"
"What is the point of this," asked Margaret, her hands visibly shaking.
"How would you like to be young again for one more night? To spend the night dining and dancing and...well, whatever else you'd like to do with the night?"
Lloyd laughed. "How would we do that, Clarence? Can you tell me that?"
"I can do that for you, Lloyd. I can take the last of your youth and roll it all up into one single evening, where you can be what you once were. As you were when your life was all out in front of you."
"How?" asked Margaret. "How can you do that?"
"Truthfully? I don't know. I don't understand either. I just know that I can, and I have done it for others."
"This is preposterous," croaked Lloyd. "You can't do that. No one can."
