The fiftieth high-school reunion was a dud. Many were using walkers, some in wheel chairs, some with oxygen tanks. The DJ had given up trying to get the people excited and had reverted to playing music and letting the people gather in groups and tell stories and lies.
Anne was disappointed she had made the trip. Though nearing seventy, she was still in good shape, walking every day, eating healthy, seeing her doctor. She was skinny enough that there wasn't a lot to sag, just her boobs and rear. Her hair was shorter, grayer than red but her eyes still sparkled with mischief. She had to fend off the advances of some the elderly Lotharios who thought they could still dance.
She was disappointed that her old neighbors, Carol and John weren't there. She learned Carol had died some years back and John was in a nursing home. Bored, she slipped out and went to the nursing home, hoping it wasn't too late to visit.
Anne stepped up to the nurse's station and asked, "May I see John Ralston?"
The nurse looked up from her papers and smiled, "Of course." She stood, walked around the counter and led Anne to a common area. She looked around and then called, "Janine."
A woman stood. She had been sitting beside an elderly woman in a wheelchair, working on a jigsaw puzzle.
Janine was short, a little heavy, but she had a welcoming smile. As she neared, the desk nurse said, "She wishes to see Mr. Ralston."
Janine extended her hand, "Of course. Come with me," and she started down the hall. They entered a room with a single bed. There was a man, healthy by all appearances sleeping.
"Well, he appears to be in good shape," Anne whispered. His hair had been black but was now silver. He had always been trim but now appeared a bit gaunt.
"Physically, he's fine. He has therapy every day and walks a good bit. He eats well and takes care of himself. It's just his memory that suffers."
Janine called softly, "Rod?"
The man in the bed stirred, "Yes, yes?"
"You have a visitor."
Anne stepped over to the side of the bed and took his hand, "Hi. Remember me?"
The man frowned, confused, "New nurse?"
"No, I'm Anne. I used to live next door to you."
She didn't expect him to recognize her. She had once had auburn hair to her shoulders, a nice full body that he found exciting. Now her hair was gray and thinning, her breasts were sagging, age taking its toll.
"Anne? Anne?" He was obviously concentrating. "I used to screw a girl named Anne."
Anne laughed. "Your memory isn't all that bad. That was me."
Janine's eyebrows rose and she smiled.
"Yeah, we went on a cruise together. You became a painter and wound up in wheelchair."
Anne shook her head, "No, that wasn't me."
Janine whispered, "He confuses memories of his life with memories of books he's read and movies he's seen."