The Beauty and the Beard

The passengers travelling on the bus westward from Côte-des-Neiges were squished together like sardines. But Claire Wise held on to her seat across from the bus driver. Her luminous and peaceful aura created an infinite space between herself and others. At 94, Claire’s skin was full of wrinkles and age spots. Yet, her inner beauty still radiated with no apologies.

She sat erectly with dignity and self-assurance, clinically examining a young mother comforting her crying baby.

Claire’s profile possessed small and delicate features: crystal blue eyes framed with thinning gray eyelashes and eyebrows; a button nose; and her lips were covered in a sparkling nude lip volumizer.

But her lower chin possessed a small patch of coarse gray hair; even her curly platinum dyed mid-length hair could not hide it.

When she stood up to get off at her stop and then descended those three bus stairs back to reality, she did it with the grace of nobility.

In seconds, it was obvious that she dreaded heading toward her apartment, which she had shared with her late husband, Charles, for 25 years. The grief hit her in the middle of the sidewalk. Gentle tears flowed down her face for Charles and her three sons, who had moved away.

When the small wave of grief subsided, Claire stopped in the entrance of her building and soothed herself by saying,” Charles’s spirit is still with me.”

Planning had always helped her cope with her panic attacks, which also always came before entering her home, so she focused on what lay beyond the main doors. Claire immediately mapped out how she would make herself herbal tea to relax after volunteering in the geriatric ward during the morning.

Suddenly, she laughed, remembering how the new volunteer, who was assigned to Glenda had a jarring experience. Glenda had had hip replacement surgery and a bad case of OCD. Glenda insisted that she wash her hands, sanitize them, put on the blue gloves, and sanitize them before playing cards with her. She also made the poor volunteer sanitize the new deck of cards before using them. And when Glenda lost her poker hand, she accused the volunteer of cheating. That volunteer was the first to leave at the end of the shift, putting her stuff away without saying a word.

Claire doubted that she would be back.

Sadly, after these thoughts, Claire’s anxiety crept back into her heart and stomach.

She reminded herself that after her tea, she would find her cat Hope and place her on Charles’s chair. The one right next to hers by the fireplace. She would take some of the family albums, like she did every day, and go through them. Afterward, she would put on some Frank Sinatra records and sing along.

But today, a new thought entered her mind for something to do. She would look for her granddaughter’s, Naomi’s, instructions to get to her emails on the iPad her kids had bought her as a birthday gift.

These mental preparations to enter her home comforted her and made her feel less alone. At home, she felt the void the most; the loss of her family, which was scattered between this reality and another reality.