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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Life Changing Decisions/Events
- Published: 05/13/2021
Beyond The Red Door
He had the dream about the red door again last night. Like in the past, he stepped through it and found himself in a 1960’s era kitchen, complete with red Formica countertops and red vinyl covered metal chairs. She was there too, handing him a piece of coffee cake and a cup of hot tea.
As he sat there drinking his tea and eating his cake, he looked across the table at her. Once again, he marveled at her youthful good looks, but especially her hair, which reminded him, not only of his wife, but the way many of the girls back in the 1960s wore their hair—piled on top with the edges flipped upward.
He could have looked at it and her all day, but then as with the other times he visited, she suddenly stood up and reached her hand out to him. He knew exactly what she wanted; they had done this before. So standing, he let her guide him toward the bedroom. Maybe this time, he hoped they’d be able to finish what they started, but no sooner had they begun, than he woke up.
“It looks like you might have had another one of those dreams,” said Fred, the new male orderly.
Lowering his eyes in embarrassment, he replied, “What can I say. It’s one of the few things about me that still works . . . at least sometimes, anyway!”
Fred, a huge black man, chuckled then said to him, “Whatever . . . But right now, it’s time for your bath.”
With a resigned sigh, he pulled back the covers and inched his way over towards the edge of the bed, until he was able to stand slightly hunched over next to it. Then with Fred’s help, he undressed, after which Fred guided him over to the bathroom where there was one of those new fangled step in tubs.
After his bath, he put on clean pajamas, along with a bathrobe and slippers then headed to the dining hall where he had breakfast with some of the other residents. Afterwards, using a wheelchair for speed and stability, he drove himself down to the glass-enclosed sunroom where he planned to continue reading the novel his daughter had brought him. The breeze that wafted through the small screens at the bottom of each window felt great.
Although the book was a real page-turner, he found his eyes getting heavy with fatigue. That’s when he saw it again—the red door, but it wasn’t as distinct as in his dream. It was like a ghost image behind his sleep-heavy eyelids. While trying not to fall asleep entirely, he found himself jolted awake by the sound of Fred’s voice behind him saying, “They’re showing a movie in the media room; you want to come and watch it?”
Spinning his chair around, he asked, “What flick are they showing?”
“The Graduate.”
“Why are they showing that old duffer for?” he asked. Fred shrugged. “I would think most of these old buzzards would have seen it already.” Once again Fred just shrugged. “Okay,” he finally said, but instead of wheeling himself, he allowed Fred to push him back down the hall toward the little media room where more than a couple of the residents sat in their wheelchairs watching the film. It was dark in the room when he arrived; the movie had already begun, but that was okay, because he had seen it numerous times before.
He got there right at the point where the main character Ben, played by a youthful Dustin Hoffman, was getting advice from one of his parent’s acquaintances. “Plastics,” the man says to Benjamin. “There’s a great future in plastics.”
He had to agree. Back when he still worked, he was a foreman in a plastics factory where they made plastic parts for all kinds of machines and appliances. Now days, the only plastics he seemed to find himself dealing with are the plastic smiles of the staff here at Harmony Grove Assisted Living facility. They have to smile a lot in order to keep the old farts from thinking too much about the inevitable end.
He stayed and watched the film until the part where Ben learns that Elaine Robinson is going to marry her parent’s preferred boyfriend instead of him. That part had always gotten to him, mostly because of that sense of desperation Ben feels in trying to stop the wedding before it can take place. He decided at that point to wheel himself back to the sunroom. But instead of picking up his novel and continuing to read, he sat there staring out the windows at the meticulously cared for grounds. He wished he could stroll around the facility the way he used to, but he was still recovering from a minor stroke. It would be a little while yet before he’d have his full coordination back.
In the mean time, while he was sitting there staring, he realized something was happening to his eyesight. The view before him would suddenly go blurry then come back sharp again. It did that three times, and each time it went blurry, he’d see a red rectangle, which became more and more substantial with each return to sharpness. Then suddenly, there it was standing just a few feet in front of him, like the monolith from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey—the red door.
Pushing himself to his feet, he stood before it wobbling slightly as he reached for the door’s handle. Like in his dreams, all he had to do was push the door open. And then there before him was the 1960’s era kitchen with “Her” sitting at the table, as if she had been waiting for him to return.
Looking down at the tea and coffee cake on the table, he asked, “So are we going to eat first or have sex?” He figured since this was another dream, it wouldn’t make any difference either way. He’d probably wake up way before he could finish.
Flashing him with a pearly white smile, she replied, “Whichever you prefer.”
That sounded intriguing, but first he decided to ask her the question that had been bugging him since the first time he had the dream. “Tell me something, why does this place always look like it stepped right out of a 1960’s home decorating magazine?”
“That’s because it is the 1960s,” she replied.
Shocked, he looked around for a moment. “If this really is the 1960s, I’d be somewhere in my twenties.”
“You are,” she replied, then said, “Look down if you don’t believe me.”
When he did, he felt a shock like electricity explode through his body. He wasn’t old anymore! Instead, he was young again! His body was straight and tall and he was wearing the type of clothes he used to—a faded T-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers.
Continuing in shock, he rubbed his hand over the front of his shirt and felt his once prominent six-pack. “Is this for real?” He asked, his voice strained thin by the wonder of it all. She looked at him and simply nodded.
“But how? Why?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
His head buzzing, he plopped down on the chair in front of where his cake and tea sat and listened while she explained, “I know you’re wondering who I am and where I come from, but that’s not important right now. What is important is that I’m here to give you a second chance.”
“A second chance at what?”
“A second chance at life,” he heard her say, but wasn’t sure if he completely understood. “Back when you were in your twenties,” she continued, “you wanted to become a famous author.” He nodded, thinking about all the hours he had spent writing stories and trying to get them published. “But you gave up on your dream too soon.”
“But I had to. Money was tight and I needed a job.”
She nodded, “Which you got.” She was talking about the plastics factory where he had started as a trainee. “But in the process, you gave up your dream for a sense of security.” She was right. He had put aside the uncertainty of authorship for the security of a steady paycheck.
Feeling the full weight of the choices he had made, he asked, “So what happens now?”
“Now you have a chance to recapture that dream.”
“How?”
“You can come with me and pursue your dream, or you can go back through the door and finish out the rest of your life here at Harmony Grove.”
Shifting in his chair, he turned and looked back at the door. Its bright red color reminded him of a door he once saw in a carnival funhouse. Go through the door and find all kinds of things on the other side to scare you. But this time, it wasn’t what was beyond the red door that scared him as much as what was on this side of it.
“Are you sure I’d get my stories published?” he asked after turning back around to face her.
She smiled and nodded, “Absolutely!”
That sounded wonderful, but then common sense and practicality began to seep in. “But where would I live? How would I live?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. A place has already been set up for you. So has a bank account.” Money, a place to live and publication! It sounded like a dream come true.
“You can even have me, if you want,” she said, making a sweeping gesture toward her entire body. “And this time, there won’t be any interruptions.”
That too sounded wonderful; she had such a deliciously voluptuous body. It almost made his mouth water just thinking about it. But then another thought entered his mind. “What about my wife, Holly? Will she be part of it, too?”
Her smile faded somewhat. “Not this time,” she said, shaking her head. “She will go on to marry someone else.”
He felt as if the floor had just dropped out from under him. Holly had been more than just his wife and the mother of his child. She had been his soul mate. From the moment they met at the plastics factory where they both worked, he never wanted to be anywhere but at her side, even while her life was being eaten up by the cancer that would eventually kill her.
“And my daughter? What about her?”
“She too will be born to someone else.” Once again, he felt his whole body melt into a puddle of sadness.
She must have seen how distressed he had become, because she said, “But just think of it! You’ll finally be fulfilling your dream. Not only will you become the writer you always wanted to be; you’ll become enormously famous as well.”
“How famous?”
“Let’s just say, your name will be listed right under J. K. Rowling’s.”
That one left him stunned—as famous as J. K. Rowling! What more could any author ask for?
Turning his head, he stared long and hard at the red door. Inside, his body and mind were warring with each other. If he returned through the door, he could eventually be with Holly again, but if he stayed here, there was the promise of fame and fortune.
It took a long time for him to decide.
Beyond The Red Door(Tom Di Roma)
Beyond The Red Door
He had the dream about the red door again last night. Like in the past, he stepped through it and found himself in a 1960’s era kitchen, complete with red Formica countertops and red vinyl covered metal chairs. She was there too, handing him a piece of coffee cake and a cup of hot tea.
As he sat there drinking his tea and eating his cake, he looked across the table at her. Once again, he marveled at her youthful good looks, but especially her hair, which reminded him, not only of his wife, but the way many of the girls back in the 1960s wore their hair—piled on top with the edges flipped upward.
He could have looked at it and her all day, but then as with the other times he visited, she suddenly stood up and reached her hand out to him. He knew exactly what she wanted; they had done this before. So standing, he let her guide him toward the bedroom. Maybe this time, he hoped they’d be able to finish what they started, but no sooner had they begun, than he woke up.
“It looks like you might have had another one of those dreams,” said Fred, the new male orderly.
Lowering his eyes in embarrassment, he replied, “What can I say. It’s one of the few things about me that still works . . . at least sometimes, anyway!”
Fred, a huge black man, chuckled then said to him, “Whatever . . . But right now, it’s time for your bath.”
With a resigned sigh, he pulled back the covers and inched his way over towards the edge of the bed, until he was able to stand slightly hunched over next to it. Then with Fred’s help, he undressed, after which Fred guided him over to the bathroom where there was one of those new fangled step in tubs.
After his bath, he put on clean pajamas, along with a bathrobe and slippers then headed to the dining hall where he had breakfast with some of the other residents. Afterwards, using a wheelchair for speed and stability, he drove himself down to the glass-enclosed sunroom where he planned to continue reading the novel his daughter had brought him. The breeze that wafted through the small screens at the bottom of each window felt great.
Although the book was a real page-turner, he found his eyes getting heavy with fatigue. That’s when he saw it again—the red door, but it wasn’t as distinct as in his dream. It was like a ghost image behind his sleep-heavy eyelids. While trying not to fall asleep entirely, he found himself jolted awake by the sound of Fred’s voice behind him saying, “They’re showing a movie in the media room; you want to come and watch it?”
Spinning his chair around, he asked, “What flick are they showing?”
“The Graduate.”
“Why are they showing that old duffer for?” he asked. Fred shrugged. “I would think most of these old buzzards would have seen it already.” Once again Fred just shrugged. “Okay,” he finally said, but instead of wheeling himself, he allowed Fred to push him back down the hall toward the little media room where more than a couple of the residents sat in their wheelchairs watching the film. It was dark in the room when he arrived; the movie had already begun, but that was okay, because he had seen it numerous times before.
He got there right at the point where the main character Ben, played by a youthful Dustin Hoffman, was getting advice from one of his parent’s acquaintances. “Plastics,” the man says to Benjamin. “There’s a great future in plastics.”
He had to agree. Back when he still worked, he was a foreman in a plastics factory where they made plastic parts for all kinds of machines and appliances. Now days, the only plastics he seemed to find himself dealing with are the plastic smiles of the staff here at Harmony Grove Assisted Living facility. They have to smile a lot in order to keep the old farts from thinking too much about the inevitable end.
He stayed and watched the film until the part where Ben learns that Elaine Robinson is going to marry her parent’s preferred boyfriend instead of him. That part had always gotten to him, mostly because of that sense of desperation Ben feels in trying to stop the wedding before it can take place. He decided at that point to wheel himself back to the sunroom. But instead of picking up his novel and continuing to read, he sat there staring out the windows at the meticulously cared for grounds. He wished he could stroll around the facility the way he used to, but he was still recovering from a minor stroke. It would be a little while yet before he’d have his full coordination back.
In the mean time, while he was sitting there staring, he realized something was happening to his eyesight. The view before him would suddenly go blurry then come back sharp again. It did that three times, and each time it went blurry, he’d see a red rectangle, which became more and more substantial with each return to sharpness. Then suddenly, there it was standing just a few feet in front of him, like the monolith from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey—the red door.
Pushing himself to his feet, he stood before it wobbling slightly as he reached for the door’s handle. Like in his dreams, all he had to do was push the door open. And then there before him was the 1960’s era kitchen with “Her” sitting at the table, as if she had been waiting for him to return.
Looking down at the tea and coffee cake on the table, he asked, “So are we going to eat first or have sex?” He figured since this was another dream, it wouldn’t make any difference either way. He’d probably wake up way before he could finish.
Flashing him with a pearly white smile, she replied, “Whichever you prefer.”
That sounded intriguing, but first he decided to ask her the question that had been bugging him since the first time he had the dream. “Tell me something, why does this place always look like it stepped right out of a 1960’s home decorating magazine?”
“That’s because it is the 1960s,” she replied.
Shocked, he looked around for a moment. “If this really is the 1960s, I’d be somewhere in my twenties.”
“You are,” she replied, then said, “Look down if you don’t believe me.”
When he did, he felt a shock like electricity explode through his body. He wasn’t old anymore! Instead, he was young again! His body was straight and tall and he was wearing the type of clothes he used to—a faded T-shirt, blue jeans and sneakers.
Continuing in shock, he rubbed his hand over the front of his shirt and felt his once prominent six-pack. “Is this for real?” He asked, his voice strained thin by the wonder of it all. She looked at him and simply nodded.
“But how? Why?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
His head buzzing, he plopped down on the chair in front of where his cake and tea sat and listened while she explained, “I know you’re wondering who I am and where I come from, but that’s not important right now. What is important is that I’m here to give you a second chance.”
“A second chance at what?”
“A second chance at life,” he heard her say, but wasn’t sure if he completely understood. “Back when you were in your twenties,” she continued, “you wanted to become a famous author.” He nodded, thinking about all the hours he had spent writing stories and trying to get them published. “But you gave up on your dream too soon.”
“But I had to. Money was tight and I needed a job.”
She nodded, “Which you got.” She was talking about the plastics factory where he had started as a trainee. “But in the process, you gave up your dream for a sense of security.” She was right. He had put aside the uncertainty of authorship for the security of a steady paycheck.
Feeling the full weight of the choices he had made, he asked, “So what happens now?”
“Now you have a chance to recapture that dream.”
“How?”
“You can come with me and pursue your dream, or you can go back through the door and finish out the rest of your life here at Harmony Grove.”
Shifting in his chair, he turned and looked back at the door. Its bright red color reminded him of a door he once saw in a carnival funhouse. Go through the door and find all kinds of things on the other side to scare you. But this time, it wasn’t what was beyond the red door that scared him as much as what was on this side of it.
“Are you sure I’d get my stories published?” he asked after turning back around to face her.
She smiled and nodded, “Absolutely!”
That sounded wonderful, but then common sense and practicality began to seep in. “But where would I live? How would I live?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. A place has already been set up for you. So has a bank account.” Money, a place to live and publication! It sounded like a dream come true.
“You can even have me, if you want,” she said, making a sweeping gesture toward her entire body. “And this time, there won’t be any interruptions.”
That too sounded wonderful; she had such a deliciously voluptuous body. It almost made his mouth water just thinking about it. But then another thought entered his mind. “What about my wife, Holly? Will she be part of it, too?”
Her smile faded somewhat. “Not this time,” she said, shaking her head. “She will go on to marry someone else.”
He felt as if the floor had just dropped out from under him. Holly had been more than just his wife and the mother of his child. She had been his soul mate. From the moment they met at the plastics factory where they both worked, he never wanted to be anywhere but at her side, even while her life was being eaten up by the cancer that would eventually kill her.
“And my daughter? What about her?”
“She too will be born to someone else.” Once again, he felt his whole body melt into a puddle of sadness.
She must have seen how distressed he had become, because she said, “But just think of it! You’ll finally be fulfilling your dream. Not only will you become the writer you always wanted to be; you’ll become enormously famous as well.”
“How famous?”
“Let’s just say, your name will be listed right under J. K. Rowling’s.”
That one left him stunned—as famous as J. K. Rowling! What more could any author ask for?
Turning his head, he stared long and hard at the red door. Inside, his body and mind were warring with each other. If he returned through the door, he could eventually be with Holly again, but if he stayed here, there was the promise of fame and fortune.
It took a long time for him to decide.
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