Preston Child - The Fountain of Youth

“Thank you,” she smiled reluctantly, trying to hide her frustration. But he could see it in her face and manner as she briskly walked off without saying goodbye. His colleague joined him, both men staring at the fresh beauty with the bouncy locks.

“I wouldn’t mind test driving that one, hey?” he told his colleague, but the man who’d helped Melissa had a look of distaste on his face when he replied, “You can have her. In bed I like limber women and that kitten is so stiff-limbed she can’t even touch her toes.”

Laughing, the janitors left the offices to have a smoke outside in the cold where Invergowrie Bay breathed under the full moon.

While Nina was visiting St. Vincent’s Academy she resided in the North Hostel, a small assemblage of garden flats on the northern side of the property. The other cottages were not occupied this time of year, as most of the current faculty consisted of permanent teachers and she was the only visiting fellow. Much as she enjoyed the good meals the Dean’s mother brought her every night, Nina felt sorry for the elderly lady. She had to work hard not just to cook, but also to walk up the steep lawn every evening to bring Nina her meal.

Even after the historian offered to retrieve her own food, she was politely denied. Tonight she was standing outside, smoking a B&H Silver. The fact that cancer was ravaging her lungs had little effect on the way in which Nina lived her life, as long as the pain was kept to a minimum and the nausea was not overbearing. Having made peace with the state of her health in no way meant that she had made peace with the man she blamed for contracting the disease.

Nina tolerated Purdue only because he’d made some effort to make up for almost killing her. Other than that, she was not about to start her biological penance a few years too late because of some absurd hope to recover. That ship had sailed, she knew. Keeping the illness from her friends was easy after she’d redirected her medical bills to be charged to her own account instead of Purdue’s. All panels and treatment were billed under Dr. Nina Gould, because, as she told the accounts department, it was nobody’s business but her own now.

Frigid whips of wind brightened the orange glow of her cigarette, as her dark hair impaired her view of the sleepy streets just off campus. Deep inside Nina there flowed genuine tranquility, even in the volatile forests of uncertainty and fear. She missed Sam and Bruich. The journalist was out on assignment for a government exposé on the Faroe Islands concerning anti-whaling terrorism.

Where his beloved big ginger cat was, however, she had no idea. Sam sometimes left Bruich with her when he had to go somewhere far somewhat quickly, but it had been a while since she’d been chosen to babysit. Bruichladdich always calmed her with his lazy, low-toned meows and his wise cat eyes. He was a wonderful companion — he took care of his own shit, so to speak. Moreover, Bruich reminded her in a silent way that she should not take life too seriously. Right now, she reckoned that big feline would have cheered up her substantially.

From the edge of the garden a black figure emerged. Nina quickly flicked her fag into the pond just off the flower box and watched the water swallow up the tiny puff of smoke it died with.

“Hello, Dr. Gould!” the figure cried through the hard whisper of the gust. Nina visibly exhaled in relief.

“Mrs. Patterson, I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” Nina replied as she met the old lady halfway. “Let me take the tray. I can’t believe you’re coming out in this cold weather just for me.”

The elderly woman gave her a kind smile as she passed Nina the tray. “Och, deary. It’s not just for you.” Her glimmering eyes held some arcane message behind the words she spoke, but Nina was not sure if it was worth asking about. The smell of the food was irresistible and it was only when Nina caught a whiff of the dumplings and stew that she had to admit how hungry she actually was.

“You’re too kind,” Nina told Mrs. Patterson when she’d put the tray on the table. “Please come in.”

“I can’t stay for long,” the old woman said as she did every time Nina attempted to have a proper conversation with her. “So sorry I’m late tonight…” she said and then hushed her tone as she leaned in to share what was probably blasphemy around here, “but there was a bit of a squabble at home tonight and I had to resolve that first before coming over.”

“Oh my goodness! I hope it wasn’t too serious?” Nina answered as she removed the cling wrap with as much grace as a ravenously hungry woman could.

Mrs. Patterson just shrugged, “Och well, you know, the cattiness of women often cause confrontation and the men usually don’t know how to avert the catfights. I just take them with a pinch, you know, but sometimes you just have to say something. And I said something.”

“The Dean’s wife?” Nina assumed in a lighter tone.

“How could you tell?” the astute Mrs. Patterson replied with a laugh.

“Aye, I knew I wasn’t the only one to find Christa a bit…” Nina tried to think of a nice word, but it took her too long.

“Bitch?” Mrs. Patterson asked sincerely. “Blind people can see that. Deaf people can hear that. Old people can affirm that.”

The latter statement was a bit off the former, but Nina chalked it up to an old lady’s idiosyncrasy. Suddenly Mrs. Patterson looked at her watch. A look of what could very well be panic crossed her face as she looked up from it, her dark eyes peering into Nina’s. There was no denying that Mrs. Patterson wished to share something with Nina, but an unspoken urgency had her wavering.

“What is it, Mrs. Patterson?” Nina asked as she eyed the dumplings. On one hand, she wished the old woman would leave so that she could eat already. But on the other, the Dean’s mother seemed truly pressed to tell her something that Nina would want to know.

“You had a nosebleed today, I hear? Are you alright?” the old lady asked Nina, still keeping her voice down.

“Oh, that? That was nothing,” Nina fibbed to remove all concerns, but she did not realize what Mrs. Patterson was aiming at. “Just too long under the floor with those examinations, I suppose. Not a big deal.”

“You smoke?” Mrs. Patterson asked, quickly leaning back to check the lawn in between words.

“Aye? That is my prerogative,” Nina snapped a little. She was in no mood for yet another lecture on her health and the obvious, done-to-death sermons on smoking. On top of that, she wasn’t going to give up smoking just because smoking was prohibited in the cottages.

“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Patterson agreed. “You keep smoking, alright? Keep to what makes you happy. We all have vices and I believe even the deadly ones are worth the pleasure.”

Is this reverse psychology? Nina wondered. It was such an unusual response to get from the Dean’s mother.

“Um, thank you?” Nina smiled amusedly. Mrs. Patterson returned her smile, but it swam in apprehension. “I have to go, Dr. Gould. Just you…you keep on doing what you…” she started walking out the door, trying not to cry.

“Mrs. Patterson?” Nina said, feeling that something really amiss, but the woman just kept moving on to return home. She kept looking back at Nina with some desperate affirmation.

“We don’t realize how little time we have, Nina. Enjoy every moment, every bad habit, because before you know it, your youth is gone with your strength and then you will regret all the things you did not relish, my dear,” she crossed onto the lawn. “Goodnight, my dear.”

Nina frowned, dumplings in hand and very confused. “Goodnight, Mrs. Patterson.”