A Bitter Pill

This story is by Sharon Hetherington and won an honorable mention in our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Sharon Hetherington lives in Ontario, Canada. Sharon, an avid story collector, believes a great story should wrap around its audience, hug their senses, and tug at their emotions. Sharon enjoys crafting thought-provoking stories that entertain and linger in the mind long after turning that last page.

www.linkedin.com/in/sharon-hetherington

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Patricia glared in annoyance at the frumpy reflection glaring back from her full-length mirror. Who are you and what have you done with my body? she mocked. Today was her 60th birthday, and her mood was turning sour. Dismayed at her sagging figure, Patricia mourned her youth. Gone were the lacy ‘barely there’ panties and sexy demi bras. Nowadays, she squeezed her rolls and dimples into spandex briefs and underwire that poked and pinched but did little to lift her drooping cleavage. Maybe Stanley can invent a bra with a built-in wooden shelf. She laughed sardonically at the vision. Aging could certainly be a bitter pill to swallow, and today, Patricia felt as though she was choking on hers. 

Stanley would arrive soon. She tried on dress after dress and one by one they pooled into a heap at her feet. Too tight. Too short. This one amplified her heavy chest and the next one suctioned to her ample backside. Finally, peeved, and glistening with perspiration, Patricia sighed, gave her damp armpits the sniff test, and reached for the one dress she was comfortable in; a shapeless black frock with full sleeves and a modest neckline. It was not flattering, but, she chided, Stanley liked her just as she was.

A moment later Stanley’s car squealed into her driveway, rock music thumping through his open window. Patricia raised an eyebrow at the racket, then hurried to put on lipstick. It was sweet of him to take her out for her birthday. She would do her best to smile, even if she had to paint it on.  

At a candle-lit table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, Stanley and Patricia chatted, lingering over their bottle of wine. They’d been dating for two years, and while close, were also content with their separate lives. Once or twice a week they would meet for a home-cooked dinner, television or music, and a sleepover. Patricia felt they were mostly compatible and contentedly growing old together, despite living apart.  

Their casual banter turned to Stanley and his work. Happy to let him carry the conversation, Patricia sipped her wine and surveyed the landscape. Stanley was 63 and like her, age was creeping up. Wrinkled, balding, and a bit stodgy, but, she mused, still a nice-looking man.

Tonight though, Patricia felt something about Stanley was a little off the norm. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. Was his sparse hair getting a wee bit thicker? Ooh, maybe he’s invested in a hair transplant. Patricia smiled behind her wineglass. 

But wait, there was something else. Patricia was certain the wrinkles on Stanley’s brow were much smoother than last week. Likewise, the smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes were barely noticeable. Perhaps the candlelight was playing tricks, or the wine was clouding her vision. Or, perhaps it was Botox.

Oh, no way, not Stanley…please! Patricia stifled a giggle and nearly choked on her wine. Why was any of this funny? An old man trying to look half his age, for goodness’ sake! 

“Patty…,” said Stanley. Then louder, “Patty?” And even louder, “Patricia!” 

Patricia jumped and nearly dropped her glass. “Oh, beg your pardon, Stan. I guess I was…um…a bit distracted” she stammered, trying to compose herself. 

Stanley held out his hand and placed a tiny satin box on the table. “Happy birthday, dear,” he said reverently, pushing the box towards her.  

Patricia sputtered “Oh my, I um, I wasn’t expecting anything, Stanley. We…um…I mean, I, oh my….” her voice trailed off. 

The gift box looked exactly like the type one might open to find a diamond ring. Patricia stared at it, stunned. Her fingers twitched as though the box might bite them if she touched it. Flushed, she looked intently at Stanley, searching for clues in his peculiarly smooth face.  

“Go on Patty, open it,” said Stanley, his eyes twinkling. Twinkling, yet, oddly, not crinkling, thought Patricia. What on earth has gotten into Stan, and what’s next, liposuction?  

Patricia stalled for time. “Em, well, it’s certainly a lovely box Stan.” They hadn’t talked about marriage, had they? Weren’t they happy just as they were? Could she even entertain the thought of marrying a man who felt the need for Botox…and liposuction? Oh bollocks, that’s the wine talking! bickered the voice between her ears. Just open the blasted thing already. Patricia took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and lifted the lid.  

When she opened her eyes, confusion replaced anxiety. What on earth? Patricia gaped at a small, blush-pink capsule inside the box. Stanley smiled with boyish glee.  

“Goodness, Stanley. This is…a very intriguing gift, thank you. “It’s just…I mean…I’m afraid I don’t understand what I’m to do with it.” Patricia gingerly poked at the capsule with a perfectly matching pink fingernail.

“Well,” said Stanley, conspiratorially. “You just swallow it.”  Patricia’s eyes bulged as she sloshed more wine into her glass.

With a hint of indignance, Stanley continued.  “As I was saying while you were ‘a bit distracted’, the pharmaceutical company I work for is making incredible strides in certain, shall we say, lucrative innovations. And, as you may have already noticed” he continued, turning his face this way and that, “I’ve been undergoing a… transformation, you might say.”   

“Botox, I knew it!” spurted Patricia between gulps.  

“No, not Botox,” said Stanley. “You see dear, this little capsule looks like a pill, but is in fact, a tiny robotic device. When swallowed, it will travel throughout the body, tracking and regenerating one’s microbiome to a youthful state; essentially turning back the biological clock about 30 years in a matter of several weeks.” Stanley watched amused, as Patricia gulped more wine.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he continued. “But, just think; with this little device, aging will become obsolete. After we complete the testing phase, it will be put on the open market and made available to the world. Well, at least to those who can afford it. We are the lucky ones, Patty. We’ve been selected to be the first to test-drive it and I thought, what better time to give you the gift of a miracle than on your birthday!” 

Test drive?  Miracle? Patricia fingered the tiny pill. Squinting comically, she tried to peer inside its opaque gel casing. 

“Imagine that,” she whispered. “Inside this pill lives a wee robot that will swim through my body, manipulate my micro…bits, and reverse my age, by what, thirty years?” And here I thought you liked me just the way I am, she finished under her breath. 

Still, a bikini-worthy metabolism, smooth skin, and perhaps even some rejuvenated bedroom benefits? She did like the sound of that.

But, if they were test-driving this so-called miracle, wouldn’t their lives be put under a microscope, inspected, dissected, poked, and prodded by scientists? And put on display for the whole world to watch? How would that be any less annoying than being poked all day by an underwire bra? At least she could take her bra off at the end of the day.  

Patricia was at war with her thoughts. Advantages considered, yes, Stan’s proposal sounded inviting. But she’d invested years in carving out her comfortable life. Did she want to give that up? And even though she was aging, she wasn’t ancient. If she were brutally honest, she would have to say there were parts of her youth she was quite content to leave where they belonged; in the past.

Why not embrace this phase of her life with a little grace? Sure, there were annoyances, but she wasn’t unhappy, just occasionally annoyed. And yes, aging could be a bitter pill, but it was a ‘one and done’. Accept it, then just settle in to enjoy the ride. Didn’t that sound much simpler than competing with actual 30-year-olds…forever and a day? Everything comes at a cost, she mused, including Stan’s proposal. But apparently, what it didn’t come with was a guarantee.

Patricia carefully returned the pink miracle pill to its satin box and closed the lid on her chance to turn back her biological clock. Stanley watched, crestfallen, but she was confident he would recover quickly.  

“Stanley, love;” she reached across the table and gently placed the box into his hands.

“Our time together has been so special. We had a lovely story, and I shall always treasure that. But, like all good stories, there must be an ending, and I’m afraid our ending is here.

I so enjoyed my youthful years, but I am learning to enjoy growing into my golden years now. I’m looking forward to the next chapter in my life. Dearest Stan, if you ever decide to go back to being your old self again, well, you know where to find me.“

Patricia stood and kissed Stanley passionately on the mouth. Then, with a swish of her shapeless frock and a shimmy of her ample backside, she sashayed out of the restaurant and back to the contentment of her separate life.