The big blue charter bus hissed and sighed as it eased to a stop in the huge parking lot at Myra’s Country Kitchen and Olde Town Store. The comfort food restaurant chain was a popular stop for travelers, and the one just off the interstate outside Memphis was where members of the Flowing Water Retirement Community were disembarking.
The group of 24 older adults had left Atlanta before dawn on their way to Branson, Missouri, for a quick getaway. Once there, they’d enjoy an evening of entertainment courtesy of Yakov Smirnoff, and partake of all the chicken and waffles they cared to eat (plus limitless refills of iced tea) during his live performance. The next day would be a “play day” where they were free to take advantage of everything the Ozark town had to offer.
Each year Flowing Water sponsored similar trips, all designed to give residents a chance to get a change of scenery. Not all took advantage of such junkets, though.
Carter Shelton had lived at the complex for the past three years. He was friendly – Carter greeted everyone with a smile – but in many ways he didn’t fit in.
Flowing Water provided daily lunches, exercise classes, movie nights – the activity director, Midge Masters, did a terrific job ensuring that the residents had access to more than just the comforts of home. It was, indeed, a good place to live.
Carter, however, kept mostly to himself and steered clear of group activities.
He had moved into a second floor apartment three years earlier, and spent most mornings walking the grounds, putting in earbuds and listening to hard rock music or podcasts about comic books.
While the rest of the residents – many in their late 70s and older – looked and dressed the part of “senior citizens,” Carter was partial to graphic T-shirts and bright-colored sneakers.
It wasn’t often you’d see a 75-year-old-man wearing a black, AC/DC tank top, silky basketball shorts and neon running shoes, but if you did, chances are it was Carter Shelton.
So, for Carter to agree to take a 650-mile road trip to see a 1980s-era comedian … well, it seemed out of character.
“Guys, we have about an hour for lunch and shopping, so don’t rush, but don’t dawdle,” Midge said as the group stepped off the bus and started making their way toward the entrance. “We ordered ahead and they’re expecting us, so we should all get our food pretty quick. We have tables set up in the meeting room. Be sure to check your number on the itinerary and the one on the table – that’s where you’ll sit.”
Carter hung back and carefully eyed the cars that were coming into the lot.
“Carter, you should probably go on in,” Madge said.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m just gonna wait on Betty.”
Although Midge had never engaged Carter in “deep” conversation, he often spoke of Betty, who he claimed to be an old flame from high school. He said his stay at Flowing Waters would be temporary and that she would “come pick me up one day.”
“You’re a long way from home, Carter,” Midge said. “And it’s been three years … don’t you think Betty would’ve come and gotten you by now?”
Carter smiled.
“Well,” he said, “she’s been busy, and we had to make sure the timing was right. During high school, while most of the kids went to the Gulf of Mexico for their senior trip, me and her drove up here to Memphis. Went to Beale Street, went to New Daisy Theatre and saw B.B. King – had the best time. B.B. ain’t with us anymore, but I suspect Beale Street is still Beale Street and there’s no place like the home of the Blues. Plus, there’s a rumor that Keith Richards is gonna play there tonight. She wouldn’t miss that.”
Midge had always enjoyed hearing Carter tell stories of his “wild” youth and adventures with Betty, but it was heartbreaking to think he had come all this way to meet someone who wasn’t going to show up.
Betty, his wife, had passed away, which was the reason he moved into Flowing Waters in the first place. Midge never brought up the subject, though; she didn’t feel it was her place.
“Carter,” she said. “Let’s just go inside. Here’s what I’ll do … I’ll leave your name with the hostess and if Betty shows up …”
“When …” Carter interjected.
“When Betty shows up, she’ll come inside and ask for you, won’t she? When she does, they’ll call your name and you can meet her up front. Deal?”
Carter nodded.
“OK,” he said. “But I’m sure she’ll be here soon. I texted her about an hour ago and she said she was on her way.”
Midge gave Carter a gentle pat on the back and just as she opened the door to the restaurant, a convertible pulled up – with the silver-haired driver waving with one hand and honking the horn with the other.
“There’s my ride!” shouted Carter, who jogged toward the silver Ford Mustang.
Midge fast-stepped behind Carter, who had already leaned over, kissed the driver, and moved to the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Midge, meet Betty,” Carter said as Midge looked on with surprise.
“Well,” Betty said, “I’m actually the ‘other’ Betty. I hooked up with a guy I met in college here in Memphis and this old reprobate ran off and got married to another woman named Betty. I guess he has a type. Anyway, now that he’s a widower and I’m a widow, it’s probably time we finished what we started back in high school.”
Carter strapped on his seatbelt and winked at Midge.
“She bought the gas, so I reckon I’ll have to buy the grass, just like the old days,” Carter said with a laugh. “Ya’ll have a fun time in Branson. Tell the gang we’ll see ‘em back in Atlanta – unless we don’t. The last time we were in Memphis we lost track of time.”
