Currency - Epilogue

Epilogue

45 Years Later

I suppose I've reached that age when having friends die is more commonplace, but I still shed a tear when I read of my old friend Phil's passing. And Beth too... together. Can't say that I'm sorry they went together, but still, it makes me wonder. I sent a cannabis plant to the funeral and signed it, "As You Wish, Dude." I don't know if anyone there will even remember me--maybe Lizzie--but I thought it was something Phil would appreciate.

We lost touch. I hadn't seen them in, oh, over forty years. It's funny how small periods of time can stand out in your life. I only knew Phil for a few intense years back in my twenties. After he and Beth married, I knew it was time to move on. Beth wouldn't have me sleeping in their house anyway. I'll go to the service, but I'm not giving a eulogy. I'm a background guy. Just someone in a supporting role. But I will say this: Phil was a guy with a big heart and a pretty low emotional IQ. At least until he got with Beth. I think she wisened him up.

Apparently they became quite a power couple. I mean, hell, it's not only a joint funeral; it's the grand opening of the Center for Universal Sexual Health, or CUSH, which I gather was their life's work. Part of the State Hospital for Rehabilitation Medicine, so really, it's the CUSHROOM--catchy, my friend. I knew Phil got out of climate science and shifted to Disability and Sexuality, and that Beth was a master fundraiser, but the CUSHROOM is, in my humble opinion, pretty amazing. I was early enough to wander around a bit through the open building adorned with artwork featuring people with all kinds of disabilities in various sexual positions or just posing nude.

I made my way into the ballroom, where the ceremonies were about to start. About a third of the assembled were using wheelchairs, and I had a laugh at the sign on the wall: If you need to be accommodated, there are folding chairs in the back. Good one, Phil. Always flipping the script. I pulled up a chair, set my walking stick down, and waited for the service to begin.

A woman with short gray hair, dressed in black, pushed her hot-pink wheelchair to the front of the room. Lizzie - Phil's best friend and Beth's younger sister--Elizabeth the Second. Time takes a toll on us all, and she was no exception. Still, there was no mistaking Lizzie with her devious smile and attitude which clearly let the room know who was in charge. She tapped a microphone twice and then began to speak.

"Friends. What a roller coaster of a week. I find the bodies of my sister and brother-in-law, and then take on the task of introducing their life's work. Let me first clear up the big question: they died happy, together, in bed, with smiles on their faces in a manner befitting their role as pioneers in the field of sexuality and disability. Phil died in the midst of performing one of his favorite acts, and Beth died a very pleasured woman."

Light laughter came over the crowd.

"As many of you know, the two were happily married for over forty years, and in their final years, as Phil's health deteriorated, they moved in with me. I can personally attest, in more ways than one, that they lived their motto: that sexuality is not solely the province of the young and abled. In fact, I often had to wear headphones to sleep--or, for that matter, to get through the day.

"In our younger days, sexuality was often considered taboo, especially for those of us with disabilities. He and Beth wanted a place in which people with and without disabilities could come together and freely explore themselves, their desires, and discover pleasure in new and exciting ways. That is what CUSH is, and it's no accident that it looks like a gigantic vulva adorning the skyline of our town. Phil and Beth were able to see it, and we are left to carry on that legacy.

"I want to thank the various donors who contributed to CUSH, and the families of those who have passed on. My sister made an excellent fundraiser, and none of this would have been possible without your support.

"I miss my sister. I miss Phil. I remember our younger days, teasing each other about our newly injured bodies. Bodies that didn't work the way we wanted them to, that couldn't feel what we wanted to feel, that made us fearful for our lives. It took a friend like Phil to travel that journey together, and a sister like Beth to support us along the way. I wish I could hug them each one last time.

"I can't. But I think we all need touch. And as I close the book on the lives of Phil and Beth, I officially open CUSH. Stay around. Enjoy the facilities. Be amorous--hell, get wild and christen a room with your partner, or better yet, meet a new partner and enjoy each other together. Sexual pleasure is for all, and I declare CUSH officially open to all!"

Those assembled looked around the room. A few brave couples strode off to private rooms, and I heard several doors close. Others looked around with curiosity, embarrassment, or hope. One set of eyes fixated on mine, and her hot-pink wheelchair made its way through the crowd.

"Dude?"

I laughed. "In a former lifetime. I go by Shane now. Nice place you have here. Loved your talk."

"Come with me, old man. There's something I want to show you."

I followed Lizzie down a hallway, past rooms filled with beds, tables, lifts, toys--everything one could imagine for an inclusive pleasure den. She turned and rolled into a room named Phil's Master Suite. I followed with my walking stick.

There, to my surprise, was Phil's old massage table. Refurbished, no doubt, but unmistakably the very same table.

"You built this for him, didn't you?"

"I did. Wow. I never imagined it would be practically a museum piece." I pushed on the padding.

"Tell me your favorite memory of them?" Lizzie was an enthusiastic spokesperson, but she was also a grieving sister.

"Easy. That night when you went on a double date. I was there at the end. I saw Phil's face change. Really, his whole life. He all but pledged his love to your sister right then. At the time I think she was ready to slap him. But he kept on going. I told him that night that he'd met his mate. Your sister was the best thing that ever happened to him."

Lizzie hugged me, a tear running down her cheek and onto my shirt. "Thank you for that."

"Of course. It's a good memory."

"You know," said Lizzie, "I think Phil and Beth would be honored if we gave it a test run." She winked at me.

I laughed. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm an old man. Can't even get it up anymore."

"Dude. You are in a top-tier center for inclusive sexuality. Wait here." She rolled out of the room.

I further examined the massage table. A placard on its side read: The table where Phil's journey began. Happily enjoyed by many. A picture of Beth with her arm around Phil was mounted below it.

"Ouch!" Lizzie had returned and, with no warning, injected a shot into my leg.

"What was that?"

"I guess we'll see in a minute." Oh, that devious smile.

A bulge formed in my pants. Yeah, they do good work here.

"Now, let's give our friends a proper send-off."

"As you wish."