Beaky's Blather

In a hotel bedroom, he pulled on his faded dinner suit. Now an old man, bent, and aching – decades ago he’d climbed the north face of life. They’d last met when proud and straight. He now wore his mortality plainly. He knew his mind, but listened to his wife. The patient wife who’d years ago watched on and waited, anxiously alone, silent for their return from high places.  

From the corner of the room she watched how slowly he put on his shoes. Slight groan, breath held, and gasping as he stood. He held out his arm as she fastened his cuff links and, unbidden, adjusted his tie. He stood back, brushed his hands down the sides of his jacket, straightened his spine and checked for her approval. 

He fiddled with his belt and looked around for his watch. She found it in the shower soap tray. They smiled quietly. In a dozen rooms in the hotel this tableau played out. Old, vain men, prepared to meet and impress one last time. 

Arm-through-arm they descended to the bar, short steps, a shuffle, he pushed at the door and they entered the noise. 

“Beaky! You old bastard. Hey guys, its Beaky. Look guys. My God how long has it been? Too long! You look great. You’ve hardly aged…and the lovely Sue. You’ve looked after him well. Look at him…hardly changed. Come on in. A beer. Get this man a beer”. 

He took the drink and fell into the group’s embrace. His voice strengthened and he laughed boldly. They smiled broadly, and gradually the faces of the friends he’d known so well, seeped from the sagging lines and greys of the shrunken men. 

The wives embraced warmly; quiet as they watched their man they’d each prepared for the evening. The men, once more bright-eyed, loud and laughing felt the years fall away – as arms high reaching, they reprised some ancient, part-remembered moment. The women rolled their eyes and smiled, as they had so long ago in bars and taverns at the end of days. Tonight, together, their men would, one final time, be young…as if they’d never been apart. 

In the corner of the bar, a group of young people, intolerant with their lives before them tried to ignore the old men in too-large dinner jackets making a noise.