Walter T Pickett, age eighty-two, shuffled into Whispering Pines Rehabilitation and Nursing Center with all the fanfare of a man being marched to the gallows. His family had patted his shoulders and spoken in syrupy voices: “It’s for the best, Dad. You’ll be well looked after.”

Well looked after, indeed. He was looked after the way a museum looks after mummies. He didn’t need a nursing home; he needed his workshop, his garden, and the sacred right to eat bacon without somebody in a lab coat gasping like he’d committed a capital offense.

Whispering Pines was a place of squeaky linoleum and never-ending TV game shows. Residents shuffled past with walkers like a parade of penguins, and Walter’s roommate, Ernest, spent most evenings brandishing his dentures at Walter like a weapon.

“I know you’re trying to steal my teeth!” Ernest hissed.
Walter blinked. “Why the hell would I want your teeth? I tried them, and they don’t even fit me!”

That settled it. Enough is, by God, enough! Walter would escape from this hellish place.

Planning
He studied the staff like a general studying enemy lines. Nurse Ashley made rounds on the hour, clomping up and down the halls like a marching band. Ed, the janitor, mopped the hallway at exactly 11:15 each night, singing “Sweet Caroline”. He sounded as if he were trying to summon demons. The front doors unlocked briefly at dawn when the milk delivery arrived.

Walter prepared like a Boy Scout. A wrinkled one, but a Boy Scout nonetheless. He tied sheets together to make a rope and tested it by tugging with all his weight. It promptly ripped, so he added duct tape. He couldn’t have explained why he thought he needed a rope made of sheets in this single-story building.  He practiced stuffing pillows into his bed, creating a “sleeping Walter.” The result looked less like a man and more like a collapsed snowman, but he figured it would pass in the dark.

The Escape
The night finally came. Walter tiptoed down the hall in his squeaky sneakers, wincing with each chirp. He ducked behind a potted plant that offered about as much cover as a cocktail umbrella. When a nurse’s aide appeared, he grabbed a visitor’s wheelchair, sat in it, and rolled past at breakneck speed. He nearly collided with Ernest, who was lurking in the hallway, zealously clutching his teeth.

“Thief!” Ernest shouted.
“Dammit, Ernest, go haunt somebody else!” Walter hissed, spinning the wheelchair like a NASCAR driver.

At last, he reached the lobby, where Doris, the receptionist, dozed behind her desk. A crossword puzzle dangled from her hand.

Summoning all his dignity, Walter strutted up and said:
“I am… I’m the milkman. I need to get out to my truck.”

Doris blinked. “You don’t look like the milkman.”
“That’s because I’ve been promoted.”

And with that, she buzzed the doors open.

Freedom!
Walter burst into the dawn like a victorious general, arms raised, sneakers squeaking in triumph. The cool air hit his face, smelling of cut grass and gasoline. For the first time in weeks, he felt alive.

He tried running but only managed three heroic steps before stopping to clutch his knee and laugh. He caught the early bus, waving grandly to bewildered commuters, one of whom offered him a stick of gum as if she were rewarding a performing monkey.

At the park, Walter claimed a bench like a throne. He fed pigeons, one by one, and when a little boy laughed at the way they swarmed him, Walter laughed too; deep, wheezy, teary-eyed laughter.

He had escaped. He had snatched a day from the jaws of beige-walled boredom and Family Feud.

The Return
Of course, his daughter eventually tracked him down, red-faced and frantic, hurrying across the grass with a blanket. She scolded him, kissed his cheek, scolded him again, then bundled him back to Whispering Pines.

But Walter didn’t mind. He went to bed grinning, with Ernest glaring at him from the other bed.

“You stole my teeth, didn’t you?” Ernest muttered.

“No, Ernest,” Walter whispered, rolling onto his pillow with a sly grin. “I stole the whole damn day.”

And, you know I mustn’t neglect the obligatory shameless self-promotion. New Yesterdays is available through the following links: Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.