“What the heck are you doing, Connie?” Hank hissed at her. “Put that change back on the table!”

“That waiter was rude and sloppy,” Connie hissed back. “I’m just taking our tips back. He doesn’t deserve it!”

Hank sighed and gave up. He and Connie had decided to get lunch in town at Barnie’s Diner since they always served a really good seafood chowder on Tuesdays. Well actually, it had been Connie’s idea, but since she didn’t have a car she had convinced Hank to go with her. As usual, Hank was now regretting his decision. Connie was the most downright irritating person he knew, but there was something about her that just reeled him in despite his resolution to stop falling for her craziness.

“Come on, Hank, let’s get out of here before he notices we didn’t leave him anything. He’d be just the type to hunt us down in the parking lot over a dollar tip.”

Connie was already grabbing her coat and huge alligator tote bag from the booth and was tottering on her 4-inch stilettos toward the door before Hank had managed to scoot out of bench and get himself up with his cane. He limped his way behind her, watching her sashay to the door in her leopard print leggings and tight red top, her faux fur coat over her arm. She really was something, Hank thought. There was one small part of him that sort of admired her flashy persona, but she also could embarrass the heck out of him. Life with Connie was a constant push-pull between his wanting her to leave him alone, and him hoping she wouldn’t.

The ride back to the retirement center was very quiet. It was only a couple of miles from the diner, and Hank found it embarrassing that they even had to take a car due to his walking issues. Life just got so complicated as he got older. He pulled into his parking place and then turned to Connie. It was not like her to be so withdrawn; usually her chattering drove him nuts.

“You okay? Sorry I snapped at you about the change for the tip. My girls both waited tables through college and I’m super sensitive about people who don’t tip. But you were right about that snippy waiter.”

“I hate getting old.” Connie turned and looked at him and he was surprised to see she had tears in her eyes. This was definitely not like Connie.

“Hey, hey. What’s this? We’re just having a spat here, Connie. No need for tears.”

Connie sat for a moment. “My sister is dying.”

“Your sister Toni? But she was just here and looked fine!”

“That was over a year ago, Hank. She has pancreatic cancer and they have already brought in hospice.”

Hank couldn’t think of a thing to say; he reached out and laid his hand on Connie’s arm. They sat there in the silence of the car for a time and Hank watched the tears roll down Connie’s face.

“I have to make a decision, Hank. I might need to go back and live with her and help Sol, her husband. He is devastated. They’ve been together since high school, and Toni was always the strong one in that marriage. He’s depressed and frightened, and this is hitting him really hard.”

“You mean you’re considering moving out of here?”

Connie nodded. “Family’s family. You know?”

Again, they sat in silence. Hank had never been good about emotional stuff. His wife, Laurie, ragged on him for years about his inability to express what he was feeling. It was one of the main reasons they had divorced; she just got tired of his stoic nature. Now here was Connie, weeping in his car and sharing with him about all this stuff and he had no earthly idea what to do. This Connie was too raw, too needy, and Hank had a sudden realization that he actually cared about this eccentric, whacky woman who had barreled into his bottled up life and yanked him into her craziness.

“What can I do to help, Connie?” Hank was shocked when those words fell out of his mouth; the words sat there between them and he couldn’t take them back now.

“Can you help me talk this through? I just need somebody to help me see the logic of it all.” Connie managed a wan little smile. “I have a full bottle of Scotch.”

They both chuckled. Connie’s Scotch had led him down the garden path too many times to mention by now.

“Is it the good stuff?”

“Yup.”

Hank squeezed her hand. “Okay, then. You get to yak at me and I get to drink Scotch. Sounds like a plan.”

The two of them climbed out of the car, Connie teetering on her stilettos and Hank leaning on his cane, and they made their way to Connie’s bungalow, both of them lost in their own thoughts, both of them contemplating the changes that come with life so suddenly and so unbidden. These elderly friends had lived long enough to learn that the only real constant thing in life was change and when change comes, it is steadfast friendships that support us through whatever comes. Well, friendship and good Scotch.