DISCLAIMERS/WARNING: I suppose there will be blood shed and violence and name calling. It is an adventure after all. The main characters are unusual for so many reasons but chief among them is age and infirmity. My goal is to explore a population most media want to ignore. This story is in no way meant to mock or ridicule aging and illness. Instead, it is, by design, a celebration of the reward for endurance, the only reward promised for good behavior in the Ten Commandments, the goal we all work toward but are terrified of achieving…long life.

FEEDBACK: Tell me if you like it… p.phair@comcast.net

FOR BOB, my own hero

# The Old Spies' Home

### by

## phair

His almond shaped eyes opened wide with the first cords strum of her favorite song on his iPod. He was already gathering his backpack when the singer began to moan his sad lyrics to the pulsating up beat rhythm. The brakes squeaked loudly as the bus slowed and he turned the volume down but left in the ear buds. He waited until the bus stopped rolling completely before he got up.

Holding his backpack in front of him, he walked with deliberate steps down the narrow aisle. The bus' door banged open and the smell of exhausted filled the air. He always started to breath through his mouth at this point in his two hour trip.

"Well, well Robere, you headin' into see Granny Clampett again?" The smug, pock-faced driver asked as the young man cautiously descended the steps; right leg first to the riser, left leg down to meet it, right leg first to the next riser, left leg down to meet it, right leg down to the third riser, left leg down to meet it, right leg first to the curb, left leg down to meet it.

Robert waited until both feet were firmly on the pavement before tugging on his backpack. Once it was squarely on his rounded shoulders, he turned to look back at the driver. He prepared to answer the question the thin, sweaty man asked every time Robert was his passenger by taking a deep breath. None of the other bus drivers ever said anything except 'hello,' 'goodbye,' and 'some weather we're having, huh?' But, this driver always asked about his grandma.

"Her name not Clampett," Robert stated with a slight lisp.

Robert turned his back to face the path ahead. It lead up to a sprawling, modern adult living community. The manicured rich green, grassy lawn rolled off unobstructed for acres around the complex. Trees were thoughtfully placed at strategic points near picnic areas and along the twenty six point five mile walking and running track. There was a pond in the distance. It shimmered in the sunshine making the horizon dance on watery ripples. Somewhere near the pond was a nine hole golf course.

Robert had never gone that far during his walks with his grandma. Even though she said she was fine, he knew by the blue around her lips when it was time to sit on a bench. After sitting, she'd take one of her pills and put it under her tongue. The blue would go away and they could go back to her apartment then and have coco. The cobble stone path to the complex's welcome center was graced by two long and low black onyx monoliths. Each was etched with the name of the facility; Center for Independence Assisted.

A beep sounded from Robert's backpack as the bus' doors banged closed. He realized he was falling behind schedule and hurried up the long and winding path. The only way to approached the main entrance was along the foot path. Motorized vehicles were kept at a distance of slightly more then a thousand feet.

Walking as fast as he could without running, Robert was almost breathless when he finally reached the front door. He paused a moment before entering even though he was late. Staring at his reflection in the mirrored glass window, Robert smoothed his blonde hair back from his forehead and straightened his glassed. A smile crept along his lips once he was satisfied with his appearance. He reached removed his earbuds and carefully pushed them into his shirt pocket next to his iPod.

"Good morning, Robert," the receptionist greeted him when he entered the marble walled foyer.

His cheeks went red as he replied, "Good Morning, Mrs. Costa."

She smiled at him which only made his blush deepen. "I have your visitor pass ready for you."

Robert watched her beautiful and long red hair cascade over her shoulders when she lead down to get the badge out of the basket under desk. The lilac smell of her perfume reminded him of spring time and lazy afternoons fishing with his Dad.

"Here you go," Mrs. Costa announced when she pulled the pass free from the tangle of lanyards. "We should let you get an employee ID one of these days."

The smile left Robert's face and he began to stutter, "Why you say that? Do you think I'm a employee? No, I not. I'm just visiting."

"Oh no, it was a joke, Robert. I was only kidding," Mrs. Costa quickly clarified. "I'm sorry. I wasn't teasing you, nothing like that, I didn't mean anything bad."

It was Mrs. Costa's cheeks that were flaming pink now. Robert had paled considerably. He studied the young woman's expression trying to figure out if she was serious and, if so, what exactly was she being serious about.

"You no think I work here, right?"

"Right. I know you don't work here. I know you are visiting your grandmother." Mrs. Costa added, "You're a really good grandson too. Coming all the way out here twice a week by public transportation in the rain or shine. And, you stay with her for hours, regardless of what kind of mood she's in. And, we all know she has some difficult moods to deal with. That takes a special kind of guy, Robert."

Robert grinned realizing he could make a joke of his own as long as Mrs. Costa didn't think he was and employee. "Everybody has always said I was special."

"Well, it's true," Mrs. Costa relaxed a little seeing Robert smile.

"Yup, special classes,special needs, special olympics," Robert listed the items off as he accepted his visitor pass from a stunned Mrs. Costa.

"I didn't mean it that way, I'm, oh dear, I don't want you to think I meant special special. I just meant special like special."

Robert pulled the string holding the pass over his head. It got hung up on his glasses and he fumbled trying to free it. The glasses almost went flying. Fortunately, he managed to snag them between his cheek and his shoulder. He righted the glasses and fixed his hair again before answering Mrs. Costa.

"I know that. It was a joke for you. My joke."

He turned then and walked down the corridor to the elevator. He reached into his right hand pant's pocket to pull out one of four sticks of gum and quickly unwrapped it with his stubby but skillful fingers. The elevator dinged as he stuck the stick into his mouth. Robert got on the elevator chewing for all he was worth. The light behind the black number 4 lit up when he pressed it. The doors slid shut with a small puff of air. But, the motor for the the elevator burped loudly as it began its ascent. At the third floor, Robert's ears popped.

"Oh, man," he cursed.

The ding of the elevator reaching the floor coincided with another ding from his backpack. Robert broke into a run down the hallway to room 447. He knocked with three knuckles, three times then counted to three and knocked once more.

"Get in here," a deep but feminine voice called from within. "You're late!"

Robert used his own key to unlock the door. He had three keys on the Disney World ring his Mom gave him. One key opened his own home's front door. The second key unlocked his Grandma's apartment. And, the third key was to Uncle Langley's office.

"What kept you?" The old woman in the oversized upholstered chair asked without looking up from the scattered puzzle pieces on the folding TV diner table in front of her.

"More traffic, all twenty eight lights were red, and the bus driver only went forty in the fifty five zone," Robert explained as he sat in the wooden chair across from his Grandma.

His Grandmother immediately snapped to attention with the news. "Was it that drug addled, aging snot nosed punk Richie?"

Robert nodded and took off his backpack. He carefully balanced it on his sneakered feet. Without further delay, he unzipped the bag to search for the Manila envelope he had come to deliver.

"Is he going to be a problem? Too nosy for his own good? Do you think I need to neutralize him?" She asked with no small amount of glee.

Robert chuckled as he pulled put the envelope. "No don't kill him yet. I need a ride back home today."

The old woman smiled and her blue eyes melted from icy cold calculation to deep affection. "That's my boy! Practical every step of the way. Get your bum over here and give me a kiss hello," she demanded as if annoyed to be asking for an expression of his love for her.

Robert put his bag aside for a moment. He stood and walked to Grandma's left side; her stronger side. He wrapped both arms around her narrow shoulders and hugged her as lightly as he could.

"I ain't likely to break, you know!" She said full of bravado but knowing full well the precarious state of her health.

He whispered softly in her ear, "I know, you said you have to get hit hard to break."

She heard the doubt in his voice and patted his arm to reassure him with the only truth worth mentioning at the moment. "I love you, boy."

"I do too," he said as he let her go.

She felt the need to shake off the sudden sentiment, "Langley send you anything for me?"

Robert rushed over to find the envelope in his pack. It took a little rummaging but he finally found it. He handed it to her before sitting again.

His Grandma tore the envelop open. She tugged out the yellow legal note paper and began to read out loud.

"Dear Mrs. Colton, the price of avocado is prohibitive until around the time of Midsummer night. At least, that is the word from all those Dragon readers. I will make every effort to ensure your veggie requirements are not met until I hear better news from Flo about your diet. There is absolutely no need to thank me and the boys. Hugs and wet kisses, Uncle Langley." She folded the pages before muttering, "What a putz?"

"What it mean?" Robert asked and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

His Grandma sighed, "It means Langley's a fucker who enjoys torturing me, that's what it means. More specifically, he is refusing all additional money for my requested operations until next December. He is going to let me finish our current mission so, at least that money is secure. There's no point to try to argue because he's already kicked it upstairs to the Senate subcommittee and they are behind him on this one." She shrugged, "Win some, lose some, I guess."

Robert waited just staring at her.

"What."

He continued to stare.

"Don't be rude, boy!" She warned.

He said nothing.

"Damn it! Okay, I don't want to just roll over on this. There I said it."

"You gotta."

She glared at him but he was unflinching. "I could funnel some reserves into an offshore account and let it grow for a while. Then, way before December, I'd have enough liquid to track the tanker."

"Don't."

"Come on, it is solid intel! That ship is looking for a port to go boom and we could make sure it goes boom long before it even sees a coastline," she tried to reason with him.

"No."

She was losing her patience with him, "Look, I know a great lead when I see one and they don't come better than this. All I need is fifteen K, tops. It'll buy me a guy, a zodiac, and enough powder to make the old tub sink like the Titanic."

"No."

"Give me one good reason," she snarled.

"We got something else to do and it's got to be fast."

Her mouth rounded with a silent O and it was her turn to wait.

Robert stated clearly, "An op wants in from the cold and they need use to make the pickup."

"Road trip?"

"New York."

"Sweet!"

Robert giggled when his Grandmother started to sing.

"on the road again..."

TBC

Return to the Academy

Author's Page