The afterwork rush at the pharmacy meant Betty was running late. She’d already had three texts and a phone call from Findley, wondering how much longer he had to wait.
“Betty, how are you?”
The voice of Carla startled her. In their youth the two women had been inseparable, but time and circumstance caused them to drift apart.
“Are you picking up prescriptions? Are you okay?” asked Carla. She was nosily looking at the small collection of bottles and medical supplies Betty was carrying.
“These? No. They’re for Findley,” explained Betty, reassuringly.
“Is Findley okay? If there’s anything you need, you always know you can call me. Anytime,” said Carla.
“He’ll be okay,” said Betty.
Betty laughed at Carla’s expression of concern. “He got his first pair of bifocals. You know, those invisible kind.”
Carla nodded. “I’ve heard those are hard to get used to,” she said, sympathetically.
“In more ways that one. I think something in his brain snapped. After he got them he joined an artistic blacksmith association.”
“Probably to grasp at his fading youth. Anyway, he was working away on a wrought iron coat rack. The optician warned him that they’ll alter his depth perception, but you know Findley. He whacked his wrist with the blacksmith hammer. Broke it in three places,” said Betty, stifling a smile.
“That’s not all. He kept swinging away with that stupid hammer. The second time he broke his ankle,” said Betty. This time she laughed.
“I can’t believe you think it’s funny,” said Carla. For some reason she also started to chuckle.
“Well, if Findley wanted to recapture his youth, it worked. Now he’s at home, acting like a baby,” said Betty. The two women laughed so hard they attracted the attention of a security guard.
At that moment, Betty received another text from Findley.
“Are you late with his pain meds?” asked Carla.
Betty looked at Carla with a smirk and a twinkle in her eye. “No. It’s time for a diaper change.”