He slid through the side entrance of the men’s long care unit seconds after the last bed check. Hauling the skateboard from the bushes where he had stashed it the previous afternoon he charged around the building to the women’s side, bathrobe flapping around his patterned pyjama bottoms in the light drizzle.
Taking one deep breath before turning the corner he let out a low whoop of joy at the sight of her, white umbrella protecting her bathrobe and pink nightie with the only footwear she could grab, blue flipflops. Seeing him, she joined in his laughter as he placed the skateboard on the ground before her while holding his hand out in invitation.
“Stop laughing. I told you I’d save the last dance for you.”
“You did. But not that you’d get there yourself whether I had wheels or not,” he held her hand more firmly with one foot blocking the board while she placed one foot on.
“Pshaw. They can take your licence but there’s always wheels somewhere. And I meant any and every last dance. So here we are with no dance hall and no ball but we’re still singing in the rain on a lovely wide terracotta pathway.”
He guided the board and supported her with one arm around her waist as she stroked the ground on the other side. “They’ll never look for us here. With any luck we’ll make it to the pavilion on the other side of the grounds.”
“Let ‘em save their idiot wheel chairs for the gullible.”
“We’ll dance the night away and if we don’t manage to catch pneumonia by morning we’ll take a piggyback run down the slope on the other side and land on the freeway. If we time it right we can grab the back of a passing rig and ride till the next midnight or dance through the next county, whichever comes first.”
“You lost me at pneumonia. No one seems willing to let us have anything else.” Her breath was coming slow and shallow at this point. He slowed their pace
“Are those shoes up to all this?” He cast a concerned look at her flipflops, ignoring his own slippers
“Not with anyone else. But open toes are fine with you. Even in your logging boots I knew my tootsies were safe.”
“Not everyone would say that.”
“But no one else knows what I’m talking about. Wouldn’t you like a turn on the board? It’s better than biking.”
“I always knew you weren’t happy about the back seat of the Harley.”
“The back seat was fine,” she chuckled. “I just didn’t like seeing the road come up. Wouldn’t have wanted the last dance to be spent on crutches or splints for either of us. Hey!”
“Hey yourself.”
“There’s the pavilion. I knew we’d make it. Do you have your music thingy in your pocket?”
“I do, not that we need it. We make our own music, celebration or not. But by the way, Happy Anniversary!”
Very cute.