Here it is at last! The eagerly(?) awaited long Bru story. All of 22040 words. The story I’ve occasionally threatened to write. The Death in Venice (Beach) story that after an endless slow narrative finally peters out in the sand. Well, at least I started out writing that story. It became something slightly different though. How different? Up to you to judge.

Why had the Old Man decided to go to Venice Beach? Venice Beach is for young people. There were so many places the Old Man could have gone to when he finally left his hometown for more than a day trip. Yes. that’s true. The Old Man had never left his hometown in all his 85 years. So why Venice Beach? Just because it was so outrageous. He wanted to shock people. He wanted to do something strange before selling his old house and find some assisted living. A modest one. The Old Man was not rich. That was another reason he chosen Venice Beach. A customer of his owned a flat in Venice Beach that he wasn’t going to use that summer so he offered it to the Old Man for a nominal rent. Probably out of pity. Perhaps out of guilt. Perhaps he was curious how the Old Man would react. Anyway, the Old Man decided to go there for two weeks for a “fling”.

August 2
The Old Man had arrived the evening before.

The Old Man woke early. It felt strange waking up in another room for the first time in over sixty years. The first time in a town not his own hometown.

He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. He was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus.

He looked around and saw a café with tables under parasols with a view over the beach. He went over there and sat down. A friendly waiter came over, a bit surprised to see an Old Man sitting in a grey suit in the heat. The Old Man decided to be adventurous and asked for a cappuccino. He had heard about those but never had one. He got his cappuccino. He tasted it. He liked it. As he was sitting there looking out over the beach he saw a group of teenage boys coming and finding a place on the beach. Nothing strange about that except that one of the boys was stunningly beautiful. Not handsome, beautiful. The boys played and the Old Man watched.

The Old Man didn’t want to leave so he had several more coffees. As he was feeling adventurous he let the friendly waiter bring him different kinds of coffee. He couldn’t believe that there were so many kinds of coffee. In the middle of the day he decided to eat something but still didn’t want to leave the café with the view of the beach and the boys. There wasn’t much to choose from so he ordered something called a Salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach. They played as boys are wont to do. Just like his own boys used to. Not that he experienced them in their teens …

The day drew to a close. The teenage boys gathered their things and left the beach. It was close to sunset so the Old Man stayed to have a look at the sunset. Then he left and slowly strolled away from the beach. After a while he found himself standing outside an Indian restaurant. The Old Man had never had Indian food. For a while there had been a Chinese-Mexican restaurant in his town but not for long. He had eaten there a couple of times but hadn’t liked the food. Possibly it was more the restaurant’s fault than the foreign food. To check that, he decided to try some Indian food. He entered the restaurant. He sat down at a table. An Indian man gave him a menu. Since the Old Man had no knowledge of Indian food he just choose the first of the main dishes. The Indian man was surprised and asked if he was sure. That dish was VERY spicy. Since the Old Man was on a “fling” he insisted on his choice. The dish WAS spicy. Nothing like what the Old Man had eaten before. Strangely enough he liked it. He told the Indian man how delicious it was. The Old Man lingered in the restaurant and when things got a bit slower had a chat with the Indian man. Mr. Gupta was the owner of the restaurant and ran it together with his wife and two sons. In the end Mr. Gupta offered to call a taxi for the Old Man. Mr. Gupta’s cousin had a taxi and Mr. Gupta made sure the Old Man got a “special price, just for you”. Actually, the price really was special because Mr. Gupta had taken a liking to the Old Man.

The Old Man went back to his apartment. The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. The lingerie was brand new and like his dinner a bit more spicey than usual for the Old Man. Well, he was on a “fling”. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered the first time he and his girlfriend, his high school sweetheart, had seen the big house quite a bit outside the town. At once both of them just knew that this was the house where they were going to raise their family with many, many children. The Old Man had worked countless hours to repair the big house. It was only the location of the house and the rundown state of it that had made it possible for them to buy the house.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He slept like a baby without any bad dreams. That was unusual.

August 3
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. Once more he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his new favorite, cappuccino, from the friendly waiter. He wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach. At least he hoped they would come again.

They did. The group of cheerful boys in their trunks made by Omar the tentmaker took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. Maybe the Old Man imagined it but it looked like they had noticed that he was observing them. Then they did something else and the feeling disappeared. That Boy really was too beautiful to be a boy the Old Man thought while observing them from a distance.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. The Old Man choose the second main dish on the menu. Once more he liked it. Like the night before the Old Man lingered in the restaurant. For some reason the Old Man mentioned his mother’s recipe for gooseberry cobbler. Mr. Gupta went into the kitchen to get his wife. Mrs. Gupta had never really got the hang of making a good gooseberry cobbler. Not that they would serve that in their Indian restaurant but Mrs. Gupta was interested in traditional American cooking. The Old Man promised to show Mrs. Gupta how to make one in return to watch Mrs. Gupta make his dinner next night.

In the end Mr. Gupta offered to call a taxi for the Old Man. Mr. Gupta’s cousin had a taxi and Mr. Gupta made sure the Old Man got a “special price, just for you”. Actually, the price really was special because Mr. Gupta by now was quite fond of the Old Man.

The Old Man went back to his apartment. The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered the wedding. The wedding was lovely and the Old Man, well, he was a young man at the time, had carried his lovely bride across the threshold. They were newlyweds. They were in love. The man had a good job as a car mechanic. The girl was going to be the perfect housewife. Their future was bright. Everything was just as things should be.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He slept like a baby without any bad dreams.

August 4
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks made by Omar the tentmaker took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. Only thing was that this time The Boy was wearing black speedos. Now that his legs could be fully seen his beauty was even more evident.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one that now had the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 3. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on a chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man tell her how to make the Old Man’s mother’s gooseberry cobbler. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment. The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how happy he and his wife had been the first years. Just as they had planned they soon had a son. A big healthy son. Soon there were two sons. The parents couldn’t have been prouder and happier. Then there was the third pregnancy.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He slept like a baby without any bad dreams.

August 5
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks made by Omar the tentmaker took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. Only thing was that this time The Boy was wearing not black speedos but purple. The Old Man wondered what was going on. However, there was no denying that The Boy looked very good in the purple speedos.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 4. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. He had promised to do that the night before. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered his wife’s third pregnancy. He sincerely wished he couldn’t. Too bad he couldn’t NOT remember it. It was a difficult pregnancy. In hindsight he shouldn’t have spent so much time at the garage – but they needed the money. Then one night when he came home there was blood. Vast quantities of blood. He had come back in time to save his wife’s life but not their daughter’s.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He did not sleep like a baby that night. His sleep was haunted by nightmares as so often.

August 6
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks made by Omar the tentmaker took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. Only thing was that this time The Boy was wearing not purple speedos but pink. Very small pink speedos- The Old Man wondered what was going on. However, there was no denying that The Boy looked very natural and self-confident in his very small pink speedos.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 5. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, garter belt and purple stockings and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how devastated they had been when the doctor had told them that the wife never again would be able to have another child. They buried their grief and poured all their love upon their two sons. No children could have had more loving parents. At first.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He slept like a baby without any bad dreams.

August 7
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. The Boy in his tiny pink speedos did not try to chat up the girls. Instead he interacted with them. Almost like he had been a girl himself.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 6. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his wife had grown more and more distant. They still loved their sons but they didn’t love each other any longer. Or to be more precise, the wife did not love the Old Man any longer.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. He slept like a baby without any bad dreams.

August 8
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. This day The Boy definitely had on bikini bottoms, very becoming black high-cut bikini bottoms. He spent more time with the girls than the boys. He even giggled with them.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A salade Niçoise. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 7. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how alone the sudden death of both his parents had left him. He couldn’t share his grief with his wife – not really. Luckily he still had one way to relax.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. Once more he had nightmares.

August 9
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The group of cheerful boys in their trunks took the same spot on the beach. They played, they tried to chat up the bikini clad girls and acted as teenage boys do. This day The Boy in his high-cut bikini bottoms spent more time with the girls than the boys. The boys usually their things a little bit separate from the girls. This time the Boy had his stuff exactly in between the two groups.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A Caesar salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 8. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered the day when he came back from work and a furious wife had thrown his best dress in his face. Well, to be honest it was his only dress. His stash was rather limited. She tore into him for being a pervert and that he shouldn’t be anywhere near children.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 10
The Old Man woke up completely rested. That surprised him. Every time before he had remembered his wife finding his clothes he had had a terrible night. Not that his nights ever used to be good but there were variations. 

The Old Man had woken early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their trunks and the The Boy were a little late this morning. The girls had already established their territory where the boys usually were. The boys settled down a little bit further away. That is with the exception of The Boy. He talked with the girls with wide gestures for a while. He was not going to give up “his” spot if the Old Man could read his gestures correctly. The Boy joined the girls. The bikini bottom he wore this day was very cute. The high cut of the purple garment showed off his very beautiful legs. The boy played with the girls all day and appeared to be quite comfortable. Not in the rather awkward way the other boys interacted with the girls.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He Old Man decided that he wanted to try something new so he ordered a chef salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 9. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his wife had judged and sentenced him without him being allowed to defend himself. He only dressed in that lovely dress to relieve stress. He simply was more relaxed and happy when wearing it. She had never seen him wear it. The children had never seen him wear it. He was condemned for just being - a crossdresser.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 11
The Old Man had woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their wide trunks came early this morning to get “their” spot. The girls settled down where they had earlier days. The Boy walked over to them and spread out his stuff at the edge of their group. He was warmly welcomed. His demeanor had a definite girly touch this day.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A chef salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 10. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. The Old Man realized that he wanted to stay longer in Venice Beach. He was experiencing so many new exciting things. Quite different from his usual life. On the spur of the moment he called his “landlord”. The Landlord could have been more happy when he heard the Old Man wanted to stay longer. Unfortunately, he could only let the Old Man stay until the end of August. The Old Man was surprised by the reaction but quite pleased.

He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered the fight they had. Well, it was not much of a fight. It takes two to fight. The Old Man did not fight back.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 12
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

While arriving with the other boys that wore the wide trunks The Boy quite naturally settled down with the girls. He didn’t wear the high-cut purple bikini bottoms like the days before. Instead the black side-tied bikini bottoms he wore were low. Very low. His giggling was quite loud and penetrating so the Old Man could hear it even at a distance.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. Since he hadn’t really liked the chef salad he decided to try a Cobb salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 11. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how the wife had taken the children and left. He was left all alone in that big house far outside of the town. He never talked to her again. He never talked to his sons again. He saw them often enough but he never talked to them again.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 13
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The day proceeded more or less as the day before with the exception that when the teenagers packed away their stuff and left The Boy left with the girls.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. A Cobb salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 12. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his wife had threatened, through her brother, to get a restraining order keeping him away from her and the sons. Her uncle was a judge. The Old Man had promised never to speak to them again and not contest the divorce. That way he still could come to his sons’ little league games.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 14
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The Old Man was disappointed when the boys arrived without The Boy. A few minutes later The Boy arrived together with the girls. The Boy spent the day together with the girls.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He decided to be daring and try another salad. He ordered a Mesclun. He really didn’t really like it. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 13. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his wife had turned the town against him. For a month or two he had no customers. Then they started to come back. Probably because he as the only really good mechanic in town. However, the usual smiles and chats weren’t there any longer.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 15
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

As the day before the boys arrived without The Boy. The Old Man was not surprised. The girls together with The Boy arrived soon after. The bikini bottom The Boy was very girlish. The way The Boy interacted with the girls was no less girlish.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. Not a Mesclun. Definitely not a Mesclun. He ordered a seven-layer salad. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either but perhaps not as good as the salade Niçoise. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 14. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered who he enjoyed going to all his sons’ little league matches and their recitals. He never missed a single one and he was the one that applauded the hardest. But he never spoke to them.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 16
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

This day The Boy was not wearing a more demure bikini bottom. However, the bikini bottom went very well together with the bikini top on the flat chest. All the boys and girls appeared to enjoy themselves. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The girls graciously let the boys apply sunscreen on them.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He decided to give the seven-layer salad another go. He didn’t really like it but it was not really bad either but perhaps not as good as the salade Niçoise. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 15. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. This time Mrs. Gupta could not really understand how one thing was made so the Old Man and Mrs. Gupta walked back into the kitchen and the Old Man showed how it was done. Mr. Gupta and his sons looked very strange but they said nothing. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he had decided since no one ever visited him anyway he’d just as well be comfortable at home. He found a new dress to replace the one his wife had destroyed. Soon he changed the minute he came home.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 17
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

This day The Boy wore a very nice bikini that. The boys and girls played on the beach. The boys tried to chat up the girls. The girls teased the boys. The boys applied sunscreen on all the girls. One of the boys applied sunscreen on The Boy.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He decided to be daring and try another foreign salad; a Greek salad. He did like it. It was better than the salade Niçoise Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 16. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen with her notebook eager to hear the Old Man describe another of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes. Once more there was something that Mrs. Gupta wanted to be shown so they went out into the kitchen together. Mr. Gupta and his sons stopped working and looked on with very strange faces and then went back to work. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta called his taxi-driver cousin and the Old Man went back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he had gone to the big city nearest his hometown to extend his wardrobe. How surprised he was that in some shops they didn’t condemn him. Occasionally they even were friendly. He soon had many dresses and a variety of lingerie and hosiery.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 18
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The pattern from the earlier days was repeated. The boys tried to chat up the girls and impress them. The girls teased the boys and flirted outrageously. They let the boys apply sunscreen. The one applying sunscreen on The Boy was very careful to ensure that sunscreen was overlapped by the pink bikini.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He wondered if the Greek salad would be as good as the day before. It was. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 17. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. There the Old Man started preparing one of his mother’s old traditional dishes. The male Guptas were aghast. No, NO ONE, was allowed to work in the kitchen except Mrs. Gupta. Well, there was one exception: Mr. Gupta when making his mother’s special dish but that was only for very special occasions with the immediate family and very close friends. Now the Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he slowly settled in a new life a recluse. While surrounded by people at day at night he achieved a measure of contentment.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 19
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The pattern from the earlier days was repeated. The boys tried to chat up the girls and impress them. The girls teased the boys and flirted outrageously. So did The Boy. They let the boys apply sunscreen. The one applying sunscreen on The Boy was very careful to ensure that sunscreen was overlapped by the pink bikini.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He wondered if the Greek salad would be as good as the day before. It was. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 18. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. There the Old Man started preparing one of his mother’s old traditional dishes. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he had survived on TV-dinners for months before he decided to have a look at his mother’s old cookbook, the only left in the house. He found not only a cookbook but a treasure. Just being there in the kitchen felt so right. As a boy he had spent hours sitting in the kitchen watching his mother cook and bake. He became more and more adept in the kitchen.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 20
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived a bit early. Then the girls came. The Boy wore a very provocative bikini. The boys visibly noted that. The boys and girls played and had fun in the sun. Two of the boys fought over who would apply sunscreen on The Boy.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. He wondered if the Greek salad would be as good as the day before. It was. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 19. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. There the Old Man started preparing one of his mother’s old traditional dishes. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. Then the Old Man mentioned that it was a pity to just throw away the meal he had just cooked. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he loved cooking. Too bad it was coming to an end soon. He was too old and when moving to some assisted housing they wouldn’t let him into a kitchen. It would be too dangerous and besides, he was a man.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 21
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived a bit early. Then the girls came. The Boy wore the same provocative bikini. The boys visibly noted that. The boys and girls played and had fun in the sun. Two of the boys fought over who would apply sunscreen on The Boy. However, a more mature young man that passed by gained that privilege.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He particularly liked the cheese. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 20. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his cousin once had visited. The cousin was the Old Man’s only relative and he only visited once. He had commented on how huge the house the Old Man lived in was. The Old Man was aware of that. However, not matter how many bad memories there were connected to the house there were also the only good memories he had. And besides his family still lived in the town.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 22
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The Boy wore the same provocative bikini. The boys and girls played and had fun in the sun. Then the more mature young man arrived. He joined the plays with the girls. The Boy flirted most outrageously.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 21. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his sons went away to college. He knew that they didn’t really have enough money so he was there for them. Not visibly of course. He had ways of making sure that their expenses miraculously were less than expected. The Old Mans’s savings were enough for that – just.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 23
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. Soon after the more mature young man turned up. The Boy spent all his time together with the young man. The sunscreen application turned into a very sensual experience. Before leaving The Boy gave the young man a quick kiss.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 22. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how his sons never returned from college. Both moved to Phoenix Arizona. Their mother moved there as well. The Old Man briefly wondered why he stayed now that his family had left. But where would he go? Being there was just as good as being somewhere else. His business was there as well.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 24
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. Not all of them though. The Boy and the young man spent some of the time just sitting next to each other talking. The young man quite obviously liked the tiny bikini The Boy wore.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 23. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how people at last had grown used to him just being there and now that the wife had gone they grew less hostile to him. Still, he just WAS. However, there are worse things than just being. And besides what would he do instead?

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 25
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The Boy and the young man stayed a bit apart from the frolicking teens. They looked like they very much enjoyed each other’s company.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 24. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. The Guptas was sad to learn that the Old Man soon would go back to his hometown and invited him for a special feast on the 29th to express their gratitude and esteem. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he once more had become a part of the town. Not really a part of the community but part of the town, like the Town Hall. After all, he had been there longer than almost everyone else.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 26
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. This time The Boy was not distinguishable as a boy as he had been before. The flat chest covered by the bikini top now sported quite impressive breast barely covered by the pink bikini top. The pink bikini bottom now lacked the telltale bulge. The Old Man had heard about “tucking” and breast forms but never really thought about them. He enjoyed the feel of feminine clothing and found peace dressed in a dress but he knew that he wasn’t a girl. Not that The Boy didn’t make a very pretty girl. Still, in the Old Man’s mind The Boy was still The Boy.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 25. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. This night was a bit different. Mr. Gupta had a very heated argument with his son Sanjay. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

Driving the Old Man back to his apartment Sanjay mentioned what the argument was about. Sanjay’s fiancée had discovered that Sanjay sometimes dressed in feminine garments. Now she threatened to break up the engagement. This would be a disaster for Sanjay and the whole family. The Old Man told Sanjay that he had experienced exactly the same thing.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he had gone on working well into his 80s. There were two good reasons. There still was no other good mechanic in town. The Old Man might have been cut off from the community but he had kept himself updated with every new model coming out. He loved the Japanese and later the Korean cars but he never admitted that to anyone else. The other reason? What else would he do?

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 27
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The Boy and the young man still participated part of the time but most of the time they spent together a bit away from the rest of the teens.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. He walked into the restaurant where he was cheerfully greeted by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 26. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta came out and fetched him into the kitchen. He sat down on “his” chair while he carefully followed how Mrs. Gupta prepared his dish. It was a pure delight to see how she worked. Mrs. Gupta kept a running commentary on what she did. The Old Man returned to his table and was served. Just as the evening before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. When the penultimate guest had left Mrs. Gupta came out of the kitchen and fetched the Old Man back into the kitchen. The Old Man cooked one of his mother’s traditional Midwest recipes and Mrs. Gupta made careful notes. They had a nice conversation as Mr. Gupta and his two sons cleaned up the restaurant. The Guptas sat down and ate the meal the Old Man had prepared. It tasted strange to them but it wasn’t bad. As a matter of fact they liked it. It was different from what they were used to but not bad at all. The conversation became animated. The Old Man who had already eaten only had a cup of tea. The Old Man never had drunk tea before but the tea prepared by Mrs. Gupta was delicious. Then the conversation veered into the subject of Sanjay’s crossdressing. The Guptas were shocked to learn that the Old Man liked to cross-dress at home and how much more comfortable he felt. Had it been anyone else but the Old Man they probably would have thrown him out of their restaurant. Now they started to think. They had learnt to know and respect the Old Man both as person and as a very knowledgeable cook. The respect they had for him countered their reaction. The end of the conversation was that the Old Man would come dressed as a lady for the farewell party. The Guptas wanted to see for themselves what he would be like. Sanjay’s fiancée would be there as well. When they had finished Mr. Gupta told his son Sanjay to drive the Old Man to his apartment.

Sanjay drove the Old Man went back to his apartment. While driving the Old Man home he expressed his gratitude for what the Old Man had done.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how he finally had come to recognize he was getting too old for working and living alone in the big old house. How much that hurt even if it was inevitable.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 28
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The Boy and the young man had distanced themselves from the rest of the teens. They were much more interested in each other.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the Indian restaurant. However, he arrived a bit later than usual since he had made a stop at clothing shop. The he had bought quite lovely dress suitable for a formal dinner. The girl in the shop had been most helpful. Shoes etc the Old Man already had. He walked into the restaurant where he was greeted a bit less cheerfully than usually by Mr. Gupta. He walked over to his usual table. The one with the sign “reserved”. He got the menu. He carefully read the menu and then he ordered the next dish on the list. Today it was number 27. Actually it was the last one on the menu. The Old Man having ordered Mrs. Gupta did not come and fetch him into the kitchen. The Old Man was disappointed but not surprised. The Old Man was served. Just as the evenings before he delighted in the new taste sensations. He ate slowly. Finally, he was the last guest left in the restaurant. Mr. Gupta had warmed up during the evening and told the Old Man that he still was welcome for the farewell dinner next day with all the aspects discussed the evening before. Sanjay drove the Old Man back to his apartment.

The Old Man changed into something more comfortable: lingerie, pantyhose and his favorite black dress. He took out the bottle of Bourbon and poured himself two fingers. He sat down in front of the TV set and switched on an old rerun of “I Love Lucy”. He had seen that episode many times before, so his thoughts wandered.

The Old Man remembered how surprised he had been at the reaction of his customers when he told them he would have to sell his business. How kind and supporting they had been. One had even let him use his flat in Venice Beach practically free of charge.

When “I Love Lucy” had ended and he had drunk the last of the Bourbon the Old Man rose, undressed, cleaned his teeth and went to bed. The Old Man slept uneasily.

August 29
The Old Man woke early. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The Boy and the young man were now completely separate from the teens. They arrived together. They acted like any other young couple in love on the beach and they left together.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

He watched the teenagers leave the beach. He stayed on to watch the sunset. He liked the sunsets. Then he carefully rose and made sure his back was still functioning. He started to slowly saunter away from the beach towards the salon where he had an appointment.

The Old Man was a bit nervous. This was his first visit to a Salon. The Old Man was warmly welcomed by one of the young girls working there. What surprised him even more were the friendly nods from the other clients there. Mostly older women but also a very good-looking man. Good-looking as an elderly lady that is. The Old Man relaxed. He relaxed even more under the expert attendance of the young girl. After some considerable time the process was finished. The Old Man had showed the young girl what he was going to wear that night at the dinner so everything fit. When the Old Man had changed and looked in the mirror he was amazed. He looked at a very attractive old lady. Not beautiful. Very few 85-year-old ladies are beautiful. However, the lady in the mirror was quite attractive, even striking. The high heels made wonders with his legs. Not that The Old Lady showed much of that. The dress was demure and fit The Old Lady in every way. Body, make-up and not least character. Well, a bit spiced up and slightly improved character, more in line what the Old Man would have wanted. More self-assured. What the Old Lady had not expected was how much straighter she stood. The Old Man had developed a bit of a slouch when growing old. The Old Lady had none of that. The Old Lady took a taxi to the Gupta’s restaurant. The Old Man would never have done that. The distance was not long. The Old Lady wouldn’t dream of arriving by foot. Thinking about it the dress, the salon, the taxi, this was the first time the Old Man had everindulged himself.

The Guptas had closed their restaurant a bit earlier this night, so the place had just emptied when the Old Lady arrived. The welcome was a bit reserved. The Guptas was wary about this crossdressing thing. After all they were concerned about Sanjay and the relationship between their and Sanjay’s fiancée’s families. The marriage was not only an issue for the two young people. It had much more extensive consequences. However, the appearance of the Old Lady was not what they had expected. Not even a hint of sordid. If anything the Old Lady was even more impressive than the Old Man.

The atmosphere grew more and more relaxed. The Guptas and the fiancée had many questions. The Old Lady answered those she could answer. The impertinent ones she haughtily refused to even acknowledge. Mrs. Gupta observed with great care. What she had appreciated with the Old Man was his dignity and respect. The Old Lady was no less dignified and respectful. She gave a small nod of approval to Mr. Gupta. At the end of the dinner the Old Lady and the fiancée had struck up a firm friendship and the kiss the fiancée gave Sanjay showed no lingering distance to him. Quite a difference from the start of the dinner. She firmly declared that she loved Sanjay and if he had a few quirks she could live with that. The engagement was still on. She even invited the Old Man to the wedding. She would have liked the Old Lady to attend but she didn’t want to push her family too much. The evening ended in a very satisfactory way for all.

Mr. Gupta himself drove the Old Man back to his apartment. He couldn’t thank the Old Man enough for what he had done for the family. He promised the Old Man that he would cook something special for the Old Man the next day, his last dinner in Venice Beach. Mr. Gupta himself would make his mother’s special dish. Those occasions when Mr. Gupta made his mother’s special dish was the only time he was allowed to cook in the restaurant kitchen.

The Old Man couldn’t remember having enjoyed an evening so much as that evening. To come think about it he probably never had enjoyed an evening as much as that dinner with the Guptas. The Old Man undressed and carefully hung up his new beautiful dress. He cleaned his teeth and went to bed without watching a “I love Lucy” rerun. The Old Man slept like a baby.

August 30
The Old Man woke early the last full day he would be in Venice beach. The last visit to the beach. The next morning, he would go home. He dressed in his usual grey suit. He had breakfast. Cereal and milk. He watched some TV. He left the small apartment he rented. He walked to the bus stop. He waited for the bus. He got on the bus to the sea. He rode the bus. As he rode the bus he watched people. As every day he was amazed by how different people looked here from his hometown. He wondered if they really were as different as they looked. He got off the bus. He walked the short distance to the café overlooking the beach. He ordered his usual cappuccino from the friendly waiter. Once more he wondered why he’d never had tried that before coming to Venice Beach. He decided that he would try more new things when he went back to his hometown. Then he settled in waiting for The Boy and the group of teenagers to come to the beach. This would be the last time he would see them so he was looking forward to what the “show” would be that day.

The boys in their swimming trunks made by Omar the tentmaker arrived before the girls as before. Then the girls came. The boys and girls had fun playing in the sun. The boys tried to chat up the girls and the girls teased the boys. The Boy spend less time with the young man and played more with the other girls. Definitely other girls. The Old Man could only see girls playing.

About every hour the Old Man ordered another coffee. He always let the waiter decide what variety to bring. In the middle of the day the Old Man ordered a salad. The Greek salad was as good as the day before. He liked it. He wondered why he had never tried a Greek salad before. He liked the cheese in particular. He would miss the Greek salad when he returned to his hometown. Then he resumed observing the group of teenage boys and girls on the beach.

Suddenly his phone beeped to tell him he had got a message. This surprised him. This was the first message since he had sold his business half a year before. The Old Man was not a fossil but who would contact him now that he wasn’t working any longer? He read the message.

Hello Dad!

You may not know this but Mother passed away last month. Peter and I are going through her old papers and we came across the letter where she told you never to speak to us again. What a crock! What you did, and what we sincerely hope you still do, is nothing to be ashamed of. We can’t understand why Mom did this to you. Peter and I never understood why you always stayed away. Despite that we knew that you were there for every little league game or recital we had. Always supporting us. Your presence helped us. Even when we went away you helped us. Yes, we know how you supported us financially even if you tried to hide it. Even if you stayed apart having you just being there was important for us. We felt safe and secure knowing that you were there for us. Thank you. We will come and visit you next week to clear everything up.

Your loving son,
David

The Old Man was happy. He sent a quick answer back with the promise of a longer one when he got back to the apartment later.

Just as he had sent that the Old Man was surprised to see The Boy and his boyfriend walk up to his table.

The Boy said: “Hello Old Man. I want to thank you. At first I thought you were just a creepy old guy ogling me. Oh, yes it was quite obvious that you were ogling me. That’s why we decided to give you a show. Teasing you. First I wore smaller and smaller swimming suits and then doing the feminizing thing. It was all an act. It was all for your benefit. Even the “boyfriend” here. Mark is my cousin and he agreed to play my boyfriend. However, I hadn’t expected what happened to me. No, I didn’t turn into a girl. But I got to view the world in a different way. To get a girl’s perspective on things. The way boys treat girls. The way girls interact. The full girl experience. I loved it. Not that I want to live that life but I treasure the experience. In a very roundabout way you have made me a better person and given me an unforgettable experience. I don’t know if you really are a dirty Old Man or not but by the simple act of simply being here every day you have given me something invaluable. Thank You!”

The Old Man saw the couple walk away. When he looked closely he could see that they were very close, in both senses of the word, but there was no hint of any romantic or sexual connection. The Old Man watched them walk away until he couldn’t see them any longer.

He marveled that he had given The Boy such a positive experience just by being. Just as him just being had helped Sanjay and the Gupta family. Just as he somehow had helped his sons by just being there. Amazing really. He had spent most of his life just being and he had always thought that just being was such a waste.

Two hours later there was a small group of people around the Old Man’s table. The friendly waiter talked to a police officer while a vacationing medical examiner that had happened to sit at the table next to Old Man’s examined the Old Man.

The waiter spoke with quiet reverence. “At first I didn’t notice anything. That Old Man used to sit at this table all day, every day and he hardly ever moved. Today he briefly talked to a beautiful young girl in a skimpy bikini. He never talked to anyone otherwise. Directly after that he paid. He gave me a very large tip and said that he wouldn’t be here tomorrow, so I thought he was just enjoying the view one last time when he didn’t leave. After some time I walked over to ask if everything was all right. He didn’t answer so I touched his hand to get his attention. It was cold.”

“There was nothing suspicious that you could see?” The police officer was making notes.

“No, nothing at all,” the waiter answered. “No one went near him. He just sat there. Just being, you know. The only thing was that he looked happy instead of sad or melancholy. I had never seen him look happy.”

The police officer turned toward the examiner. “Doctor, what can you say?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” the doctor said while shaking his head. “I can’t find any obvious reason he died. Nothing suspicious though. It’s like he just - ceased to be.”

The End