As the seasons change, so do our desires. In our senior years, we try to remain active by doing new and exciting things.

But what if our plans and dreams are not the same as those of our closest companion? This can turn our world upside down, as you will see in . . .

Autumn Leaves

     Living in our senior community, “Autumn of Your Life Active Adult Resort,” is usually a blessing. However, sometimes things get a bit complicated. Let me give you an example. As I perused the community’s monthly magazine, The Autumn Review, I turned toward Marty, who sat in our plush beige recliner reading the Rosewood Gazette and . . .

     “Hey, Marty, how about going on the annual fall bus trip to Reno?” I asked.

     “No, I don’t think so. It’s not for me,” he responded.

     “Why not, it’ll be fun.”

     “Fun? You call traveling with a bunch of old people fun?”

     “Well, we’re old, too,” I stated. “And they’re our neighbors and friends.”

     “Stuffed in a box with those old codgers for a three-hour drive to Reno isn’t my idea of a good time. I’d hate it, Debbie.”

     “But you’ve never done it before. And it’s not a box, Marty. It’s a modern, comfortable tour bus.”

     “It’s just a box with frills, Debbie—nothing more.”

     “Oh, Marty, you’re being unreasonable. I’ve heard the association’s trip coordinator is a whiz at putting these excursions together. She’ll provide us with everything we need—bottles of water, fruit, a beautiful room for the night, and tickets to the ‘Cirque du Soleil’ show at the Eldorado.”

     “I don’t care about some circus salad show.”

     “It’s not a circus salad show. I’ve heard it’s sophisticated, funny, and has extraordinary acrobatics. The physical stunts are unbelievable. Margaret told me that when she saw it, two women bent their bodies so they were so small they could both fit into a tiny box. It was awesome.”

     “We bend our bodies every night so we can fit into our bed with our two German Shepherds. Maybe we should go on stage.”

     “Marty, you’re impossible. What am I going to do with you?”

     “Almost anything you want to. Just don’t make me go on the bus trip.”

     “Well, think about it. You don’t have to make your decision now. We have two days until the tickets go on sale. But they do sell out fast, so we’ll have to purchase them on Monday.”

     “Whatever you say, dear. I’ve got to go to the john.”

     Marty got up from the recliner and, without looking back at me, shuffled out of the living room. Frustrated, I stared out the large picture window and watched the leaves on our maple tree plummet to the ground.

     Monday arrived faster than I expected. Marty sat at the kitchen table, his face buried in the Gazette. I tried to get up the courage to bring up the trip again. Part of me wanted to let it slide. However, Margaret made it sound so exciting, I had to go. And I wasn’t going alone. I married Marty for better or . . . and it seemed the or always got the best of me. But I made up my mind, it wouldn’t happen this time.

     I stood behind Marty and tapped him on the shoulder. “Marty, Marty, darling, can I talk to you?”

     “Yeah, but make it quick. I’m reading a really good article on how to win at high stakes poker and I want to get back to it.”

     “But you don’t even play poker.”

     “Hey, we got a casino just over the railroad track. Maybe I’ll give it a try. Now what do you want to talk to me about?”

     “The trip to Reno.”

     “Not that again, Debbie. I thought we had ended that conversation.”

     “But I asked you to think about it.”

     “And I did. I thought it best not to think about it.”

     “Now come on, be reasonable. I heard Bob and Alice might be going. You like Bob.”

     “Yeah, so what? But I don’t like Alice. She’s a nag. Just like you’re becoming.”

     “I’ve had it with you, Marty. You never want to try anything new. And this could be fun. It’s only an overnight trip. Do something for me for once. Won’t you?”

     “Are you saying I don’t do things for you? Don’t you remember I went with you to the ‘Neil Diamond Tribute Show’ three weeks ago? It was so bad we left early. The impersonator didn’t sound like Neil Diamond and he had no idea how to interact with the audience.”

     “Yes, I agree with you. He was bad, but . . .”

     “But what? And the mosquitos bit me on my arm and neck. I always suffer for you. I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to the john.”

     “Marty, that’s all you ever do—take a trip to the john. Well, bon voyage, my loving husband. Maybe you’ll get some of the crap you’ve been giving me out of your system.”

     “Oh, boy. You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

     Marty dragged himself and his newspaper up from the table and trudged off on his journey to the john. I shook my head in dismay. I walked over to the kitchen slider and gazed out upon the beautiful autumn leaves that covered the backyard. The wind whisked them around, like travelers running through a busy airport. Yes, travelers—something I wanted to be. I pictured myself flying with them to a land of dreams.

     Then the phone rang bringing me back to reality. I picked it up and murmured, “Hello.” Oh my, another one of those crazy recorded messages.

     It blared into my ear, “You have been selected to take a 30-second telephone survey and receive a free cruise to the Bahamas.”

     I want to get away from it all, but I know when I’m being scammed. So I pushed the off button. I wish it was a legitimate offer, I mused.

     Putting the call behind me, I looked at my watch. It’s been an hour and no Marty. That’s a long time on the potty—even for him, I thought. I became worried, so I decided to check. I marched down the hall and called through the closed door, “Marty, Marty. Are you all right in there?” No answer. Now I was really concerned.

     I grabbed the door handle. “My god! It’s locked. Now, what do I do? I muttered. So I put my ear to the door.

     “R-r-r-ronc shsh . . . shsh . . . r-r-r-ronc shsh . . . shsh.”

     What’s that? Snoring? “Marty, are you asleep on the pot? Answer me Marty.”

     No response. I started to bang on the door. “Marty. Marty, wake up!”

     “Huh? What’s all the racket? Can’t a guy take a nap in private?”

     “If you’ve got to sleep, do it in bed. You scared me.”

     “Well, I didn’t mean to. I came in here to think.”

     “About what?” I queried.

     “The trip on the bus.”

     “You needed to do that in the bathroom?”

     “No, but I had to call Louie.”

     “You did what? You were talking on the toilet.”

     “Yeah, why are you so surprised? People do it all the time up at the lodge. Sometimes I listen in. It’s fascinating.”

     “You do. That’s not right.”

     “Why not? Sometimes I get bored just sitting there. It keeps me awake.”

     “I guess you fell asleep on our pot because you didn’t have a conversation to eavesdrop on.”

     “Hmm, something like that.”

     “Something like what? Why do I have to drag everything out of you?”    

     “Huh? Well, after Louie and I talked, I made my decision about the trip. Having resolved the issue relaxed me. My eyes began to droop and I . . .”

     “Aren’t you going to tell me what you decided?”

     “All right. It seems Louie took the same trip last year. He didn’t want to go, but Angie pushed him into it. Told him if he didn’t, he’d live to regret it. Since Louie’s a bit of a wuss, he went.”

     “So, are you telling me you’re also a coward at heart? And we’re going to go on the trip?”

     “Well, no and yes.”

     “No what and yes what? You’re confusing me.”

     “No, I’m not a coward, and yes, I’ll go on the trip with you.”

     “That’s great. But how did Louie change your mind?”

     “He told me about ‘Autumn Leaves.’”

     “Oh, I get it. The timing of our trip—the seasonal splendor of the colorful leaves we can see from the bus as we go through Truckee on our way to Reno.”

     “Not exactly.”

     “Then what?”

     Marty went silent from behind the bathroom door. I waited and was about to speak when . . .

     “Autumn Leaves—the gorgeous stripper in the lounge show after the ‘circus salad show’ ends. She had the biggest boobs he’d ever seen. And when they bounced . . .”

     “Marty, you’re incredible. And that’s not a compliment. Why don’t you stay in the john? Maybe I’ll let you out for dinner. Get a good day’s rest, darling.”

     “What? I don’t want to stay in here. I have to go up to the clubhouse and purchase the trip tickets.”

     “No you don’t. Autumn Leaves’ assets are no longer falling. And our trip’s been cancelled.”

Copyright © 2015 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.