Chapter 4

The problems were multiplying. I had no earthly notion how to begin the process of securing fake ID cards and supporting documents. In this post 9/11 era, I had to imagine that the process, whatever it once had been, had become both more perilous and more expensive than ever before.

In the movies, you just went into a bad neighborhood someplace, acted tough, and, pretty soon, you were buying illegal Kalashnikov assault rifles, high-grade heroin, and fake passports like they were just so many ice cream cones at a Dairy Queen.

In the real world -- especially in my small-town real world -- it didn't seem all that simple.

The easiest way, perhaps, would be first to sound out Ellie about how she felt about our running away together. She had just gone home to see her family. Maybe her family ties were so strong that, unlike me, she would prove entirely unwilling to drop everything in her present life and start out anew -- with no support except from me -- in a faraway new country.

I supposed that I would have to sound her out. But what kind of explanation could I provide, for such a wild and outlandish plan of action?

What I really wanted to do was to forget about the future, except where it took the form of seeing Ellie, day after day. The future I was really committed to was tonight -- naked in bed with this incredible young woman, not merely reliving my long-lost youth, but improving upon it!

The future I cared about was tomorrow morning, showing up at "RESTAURANT" a few minutes after having dropped Ellie off, just a block down the street, giving her time to get there and put on her little apron moments before I happened by.

The future was anticipating the knowing glances from Ellie's fellow waitresses; all of whom, I knew, were receiving daily progress reports from Ellie on our budding romance.

I had forgotten how delicious life could be, when one was young. If anything, it was even more wonderful, this second time around. My fresh recollections of how it was to be 76 years old and pretty much invisible to the opposite sex made every appraising glance from a comely young woman a special event.

And the nights, with Ellie! It was as if I were experiencing physical love for the first time ever! It had been many years since I had experienced anything remotely approaching the sensuality, the pure pleasure, that Ellie was bringing to me now virtually every single day and night. And I knew -- disloyal as the thought might be to the memory of my beloved wife -- that nothing my wife and I had experienced together, even when we were young, was the equal of what I was now experiencing with Ellie.

Oh, there hadn't been anything really wrong with our sexual life, back then. But now! Now, it was as if every night with Ellie was a wedding night -- a new revelation of how glorious the union of two people could be! Part of it was attributable to Ellie's exceptional beauty. Part of it was my own wonderment at my sudden transformation into a vigorous young man, when I had long-since accepted as a fact that those days were forever gone to me.

Most of all, it was the unqualified surrender that Ellie made of herself, whenever we made love. She was so unabashedly accepting! She took me into her body as if I were bestowing a gift. Her eagerness, her vigor -- it was like a drug.

And so, I did nothing. I sought out no mob lawyers for advice on securing fake identification papers. I made no serious investigations of New Zealand's official attitude toward immigrants. I carried on, as best I could, in my new role as 26-year-old man who'd just met the girl of his dreams.

After all, I thought, it was possible that all of this was just a dream. But if it was, it was a long, unusually vivid dream from which I didn't ever want to awaken.

Life went on in this fashion for almost four more weeks. During that time, Ellie's romantic attachment to me never faltered. She remained as enthusiastic a lover as she had been, on that first amazing afternoon when she'd persuaded me to take her home to see my grandfather's gardens, and the pond, in daylight.

I remained full of secret fears and worries. They were the same ones I'd been nursing from the start. I had acquired growing confidence that I wasn't simply going to "change back" into an old man, without warning. But I remained bedeviled by feelings that -- somehow -- a day of reckoning would surely come.

And now I was fretting anew about what my duties were, toward Ellie. That we had embarked on a permanent life together wasn't the subject of any doubt, in my mind or in hers. We were together, and blissfully so. But could I simply continue to enjoy this young woman, body and soul, and never confess to her that she was now the life partner of a man whose days might, indeed, be numbered?

Would we marry? Would we have children? If we did, how would I provide for them? I had no usable college degrees to help me attain a good job. I had pension income, and a house. There were other modest assets, but I wasn't rich, and I wasn't in possession of some special skill that would enable me easily to go out and earn a living and raise a family.

And I wondered -- continuously -- whether I would be leaving Ellie behind, some not-too-distant day from now, with children who had not yet reached adulthood? Children whose principal memory of their father was that he had suddenly dropped dead one day at the tender age of 35, or 40?

More and more, the conviction grew that I could not marry Ellie unless and until she knew the whole truth about who I was. About who I was -- really.

It would be a story that she'd be hard-pressed to believe, but I knew that she was an intelligent young woman. I could, with time and effort, demonstrate to her that I was, indeed, the 76-year-old man I had claimed was my absent grandfather. Having convinced her of the truth of that assertion, I would then discuss with her all of the terrible implications. It would be very much like a young man's having to tell his fiancé that he had acquired some awful disease that was near-certain to limit his lifespan to something far shorter than the two of them might otherwise have expected.

And even setting aside the unanswerable question of whether "Young Karl" would die when "Old Karl" did, how would Ellie -- or any young woman -- feel about receiving such news? What would then happen to her "ideal" lover, after she found out that he wasn't the young man he appeared to be, but rather a grandfatherly sort with an entire other life -- a life he had currently put on hold: An old man with a granddaughter who was a year older than Ellie.

An old man with a family -- two daughters, a son-in-law, that granddaughter -- all of whom Ellie could never be introduced to, because the man his family saw, and the man she saw, were not the same man at all.

And what of Ellie's own family? Her parents -- presumably living in Louisville, Kentucky? Did she have siblings there, too? It was strange, how little Ellie and I had discussed our families. In my case, the reason was clear enough. I couldn't tell Ellie much about my family because they weren't the sort of people she would expect to be hearing about.

It was laughable, really. My older daughter in Atlanta was almost precisely the correct age to be "Young Karl's" mother! My granddaughter? She could be Young Karl's younger sister. The ages would fit nicely, but of course, my family members would be unprepared to play their new roles. And, anyway, it was likely that, if I were to take Ellie to them, introduce her to them, they would once again "see" me in my Old Karl persona: An old man, showing off his nubile, twenty-something girlfriend!

Oh, yeah, that would go over really well!

Reconciling the two families couldn't happen -- ever.

And, New Zealand. That probably couldn't happen, either! At least, it couldn't happen without Ellie's complicity. What would I tell her, exactly, by way of explanation? That I was some sort of fugitive from justice? That we had to run away or I would soon be imprisoned for terrible crimes?

What crimes, exactly? She would certainly want to know.

Maybe the truth was what I needed, here. Maybe I should tell her the whole story, and let the chips fall. But, my God! How risky would that be? Would Ellie's ideal of the man she wanted disappear, the moment she found out who I really was? Would I -- Young Karl -- disappear myself? Forever?

How unimaginably painful that would be, for me! To disappear in a puff of smoke, and find myself, once again, an old man, feeling more feeble than ever after the cruel experience of having, briefly, regained my youth and vigor.

Would Ellie then see me for who I really was, and be overcome with revulsion?

And how, exactly, would the transformation happen? Would it be instantaneous? Even if there were no transformation, would The Truth still be enough to destroy Ellie's ideal, and to leave us as just another pair of twenty-somethings, with little in common other than the bloom of youth?

Telling the truth, then, was just still-another fearsome option.

Nevertheless, more and more, it began to appear to me to be the only option. Even so, it was difficult to know how to begin.

I decided, finally and decisively, that the only thing to do was to tell Ellie the truth -- all of it.

It was a Sunday afternoon. I was supposed to go to Ellie's apartment at 4 p.m. and pick her up. As usual -- as almost always -- we were going to spend the night together, at my place.

But I couldn't wait until 4 p.m. I was supposed to be giving Ellie the day -- at least most of the day -- to do her class work for the college. She had precious little free time now, with school, her full-time job, and with me filling every available spare moment of her life.

But this couldn't wait! It was only just after noon, but I needed to see her -- to talk to her -- right now. I needed to do it before I lost my conviction that this was the right thing to do.

Call it the impetuousness of youth.

So I drove to Ellie's apartment. Her young roommate, Donna Lee, was standing at the open entranceway when I approached the apartment. I was still a half-block away, looking for a place to park on the street, when I saw an old woman approach the apartment's door, pulling a little wire cart behind her, containing what looked like groceries.

Donna Lee embraced the old woman and held the door open for her as she dragged the cart up three concrete steps and into to house.

I parked the car and went to the now-closed door and knocked.

Donna Lee came to the door promptly, looked at me quizzically, and, finally, smiled. "You're awfully early!" she said.

"Yes. I... need to talk to Ellie. It's... important. Is she home?"

"I... think she's studying. In her room. Come in, have a seat, and I'll go tell her you're here."

Donna Lee seemed a little taken aback at my arrival on her doorstep. I wasn't certain why. I'd been there, frequently enough, in recent days. Normally, she was an easy-going, serene presence in the apartment, always ready to tease me, gently, about my interest in Ellie.

Donna Lee didn't reappear, but after a short time, Ellie emerged from the back bedroom. She was dressed in very casual fashion, shoeless, in denim cutoffs and a pullover shirt. As always, she was breathtakingly beautiful. The thought that, in minutes, I might lose her forever made my mouth suddenly turn dry.

"What is it, Karl?... Is something wrong?"

"I'm sorry I came by so early," I told her. "I... have something to talk with you about. It's very important -- important enough that I couldn't wait until 4 o'clock to see you. I know you've got homework and all, but this... this really can't wait."