by Rachel Magee
“Being good-looking is a curse in this sport,” Henry grumbled with humor. “Too many pretty ladies around to swing a club. If you ask me, he’d be a better golfer if he had an ugly mug.”
Veronica shook her head, her smile never fading. She set the cardboard cupholder of drinks on the table. “From what I heard, he did pretty well.”
Braxton placed the bag on the table. “Enough with the golf talk. How about we eat lunch?”
Henry reached for one of the drinks. “So touchy.” He picked up a straw and stared at the cup, his look of confusion rapidly turning into frustration.
The sight made Braxton’s heart ache.
Veronica reacted first and gently took it out of Henry’s hand, removed the wrapper, and stuck it in the drink for him as if forgetting how to put a straw in a cup was no big deal. “You know what, I forgot to pull out the highchair. Let me get it for you.” She patted Henry on the shoulder before she scurried off.
Braxton let Alice stand in one of the chairs while he unpacked the takeout boxes, trying not to let the little incident bother him. Struggling with normal everyday tasks was nothing new. They were the first thing to go when the Alzheimer’s disease started to progress. In fact, not being able to dress himself without help was one of the main reasons they’d made the decision for him to move into this home-like assisted living center designed specifically for people with dementia. But lately it seemed like he needed help with almost everything.
Braxton didn’t want to dwell too closely on that. Today, he wanted to enjoy lunch with his two favorite people and maybe even pretend like everything was back to normal and his life, once again, made sense. He pulled out the first box, opened the lid a little to check what was inside, and placed it in front of his spot before he grabbed the next box.
Henry took a sip from his straw and smiled at Alice. “Who is this?” he asked in a pleasant voice.
Braxton froze, his hand holding the box hovering in the air as he looked back and forth between his daughter and her godfather who were making eyes at each other. His stomach plunged, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. It took all the willpower he could muster to keep the expression on his face neutral. This was the first time Henry hadn’t recognized someone so close to him.
Braxton took a breath to steady his voice before he answered. “This is my daughter, Alice.” Tears stung his eyes, but he commanded them to go away. He couldn’t react to this. Not in front of Henry. It would only make things worse.
“Hi-ee, Hen-wee. Hi-ee.” Alice waved both of her hands and danced in the chair, completely oblivious to what was happening. “We have wunch with Hen-wee!” There was joy in her voice and excitement to see the man who had helped raise her for the first two years of her life.
“Your what?” Henry’s innocent smile was replaced by a shocked look of confusion.
“My daughter, Alice,” Braxton repeated, setting the box in front of Henry. “She came to have lunch with us today.”
“Your daughter.” Henry’s face screwed up, making him look angry, which caused a lump to form in Braxton’s throat.
“Here you go.” Veronica made her way through the wooden tables with the highchair in front of her. Henry took his eyes off Alice and watched their friend place the seat in the spot between Henry and Braxton. As if someone had pulled a plug, all the tension drained from his face, leaving him with nothing but a blank expression and a vacant smile.
Veronica did a slight double take when she saw Henry’s expression then she shot Braxton a quick questioning glance.
She laid a hand on Henry’s arm. “You are one lucky man getting to eat this fancy lunch with these fine people. Last time I ate at Coral Reef, it took us an hour just to get a table. And here you are not having to wait at all.”
Henry nodded, still staring blankly at the spot in front of him. Braxton busied himself with buckling Alice into the highchair while he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Now wasn’t the time to mourn his own loss. The best thing to do was to make Henry comfortable and offer support. For years, Henry had been his rock, and now it was his turn to be that for his mentor.
Veronica laid a comforting hand on his shoulder as she walked by, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Braxton nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks, Veronica.” He took one more breath, then turned his focus to opening everyone’s meal. “How about we eat before this all gets cold.” He opened the box in front of Henry first, turning it to offer the easiest access to the food inside. He didn’t want to give Henry any more reasons to get frustrated. “You don’t mind if Alice takes one of your fries, do you? Of course not.” He took a couple of the large home-cut French fries and put them on Alice’s tray.
As he pulled Henry’s plasticware from the wrapper and handed it to him, he watched Henry’s gaze follow the fries as Alice picked one up and tried to shove the whole thing in her mouth.
“I like those kinds of fries.” His voice still had a vacant quality to it.
“I know you do. I’ve watched you take down a double order by yourself on more than one occasion.” Braxton opened a smaller box containing the grilled fish nuggets and fruit for Alice. “In fact, you’re the reason she likes them so much. You gave them to her when she was a baby. It was the first solid food she ate.”
Henry put one of the fries in his mouth and chewed slowly, visibly relaxing a bit. “Seems like a reasonable thing to do. Life’s too short to not eat good food.”
Braxton chuckled. “That’s what you said then, too.” He cleared the giant bag from the table, then took a seat, opening the meal in front of him. “Which is why I didn’t think you’d mind sharing with her.”
Henry stuck another fry in his mouth, looking at Alice. “You should tell him to get you your own order.”
“Sage advice if ever I heard any.”
“Well, I’ve been giving you advice for a long time and you won’t take it. Maybe I should start on the next generation.” He looked at Alice. “The secret to a great golf swing is to keep your head down.”
Braxton took a bite of his sandwich and let relief flutter through him. Maybe there was hope of recovering this lunch after all. “Maybe you should try giving her advice that would be useful like always eat your vegetables, don’t stay out past midnight. That sort of stuff,” Braxton joked.
Henry stared at Alice for a second, then shifted his focus to the food in front of him, getting quiet. “My mind is getting worse,” he whispered, all his attention focused on poking at the fries in front of him.
Braxton’s heart broke. “I know.”
Silence settled over the table as they both contemplated the heavy truth hanging between them. Even Alice sat completely still.
Finally, Henry looked up, pain and confusion glaring in his eyes. “It’s…” There was a long pause as he searched for the right word. “Trouble,” he said eventually.
Braxton nodded. It was troubling. It was also terrifying, heartbreaking, frustrating, and unfair. And that was just from his perspective. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to deal with it from Henry’s side.
Henry continued, “Trouble in the same way that you can’t keep your head down when you swing your nine iron.” He looked up at Braxton with a sly smile.
Braxton let out a loud laugh. Some of the heaviness lifted off his chest. “But you still have your sense of humor.”
Henry shrugged and picked up his sandwich, some of the life returning to his eyes. “Mmmm. This is good.”
“Only the best for our Henry. Right, Alice?”
Alice grinned and popped another fish nugget in her mouth.
Henry nodded his head at the little girl. “She swing a golf club yet? Maybe I should give her some lessons after lunch. We wouldn’t want her to pick up any of your bad habits.”
This journey they were on was hard and promised to only get mo
re difficult, but it wasn’t over yet, which made Braxton thankful. He needed to hold on to Henry for as long as possible. “Just eat your sandwich, old man.”
Braxton knew from the moment Henry didn’t recognize Alice that he’d be spending the rest of the day at the Summer Island Memory Care Home.
Braxton was like Henry’s security blanket. He anchored him when he was feeling his most confused and staying with him was the right call. It was the call Henry would’ve made if the situation was reversed. But that didn’t make it less difficult.
Entertaining a two-year-old while trying not to disrupt Henry’s normal schedule was a challenge. Luckily, Alice was a good sleeper and took a nap in her stroller while they played chess. She thought the daily exercise class was great fun and ran around the courtyard while they sat outside to have his afternoon lemonade. But by the time they finished dinner, Braxton was emotionally and mentally drained. He stayed around until the staff change was complete and Henry was ready to head off to his room for his nightly TV-watching ritual.
That gave Braxton just enough time to get an overtired and overstimulated Alice home before she had an epic two-year-old meltdown. After a quick bath and reading her current favorite board book three times, his little girl was finally asleep in her crib and Braxton had a moment to himself.
He grabbed the handheld baby video monitor and stepped outside to unwind in the quiet summer evening. From his patio, he had an unobstructed view of the Atlantic stretching all the way to the horizon. It was—when he took the time to admire it—breathtaking. In fact, this picture-perfect view of the ocean was what had inspired him and his wife to buy this house. Of course, that was back in a carefree time when he lived a picture-perfect life and the world made sense.
He drew in a lungful of warm, salty air and let the sound of the waves wash over him. How had his life gotten so off course? He’d had the world on a string, and he was so consumed with his own selfish ambitions he didn’t even realize it. And look where it got him.
He headed down the concrete steps to the boardwalk, the weight of his situation like a physical heaviness on his body.
What if… It was a game he liked to play when everything seemed like it was crumbling around him. He replayed his past from every angle, like when he used to watch videos of his golf swing, looking for specific moments where it all went wrong.
What if he hadn’t been on tour the night of the car wreck?
What if he hadn’t been so consumed with his own need to be number one that he missed the early warning signs of his coach’s chronic condition?
What if he had never swung a golf club to begin with?
He stepped off the end of the boardwalk and let his feet sink into the sand, guilt pecking away at him. He stared at the orange horizon, wondering what he could’ve done to make it all turn out different.
“Hi there, neighbor.” The optimistic, airy voice sliced right through his heavy thoughts, bringing with it a sort of lightness that caught him off guard. Slowly, he pivoted in the direction of the sound.
Millie sat on a driftwood log with her dog at her feet. Her dark hair fluttered behind her in the gentle ocean breeze and the setting sun highlighted her in a soft glow. She looked content and serene and lovely and the sight of her made something stir inside him.
“Hi, yourself.” He lifted his hand in a wave.
Millie leaned over and looked down the beach around him. “Where’s the little one?”
“Dreamland.” Braxton held up the monitor in his hand to show the image of a sleeping Alice.
“Awww.” She nodded and pressed her lips together in a sort of polite smile of someone who had cycled through all of their conversation topics.
The silence between them grew.
He could’ve offered a simple “see ya later” and headed back to the privacy of his own patio. But he didn’t. The truth was, seeing her made him feel a little lighter, as if someone had just thrown him a lifejacket when he was struggling to stay afloat.
Perhaps he should’ve asked himself why the mere act of her presence felt like a lifejacket. It seemed like the kind of realization that should’ve set off warning signals. But instead of diving down the “why” rabbit hole, he pushed the thought away and took a step toward her.
“What do you have there?” He motioned to the stack of papers in her hand.
“These?” Millie held up the papers in question, giving him a better look. “They’re love letters written to my Aunt Mildred.”
“Love letters, huh? From her husband?” He strolled toward her to get a closer look.
Millie wiped a few grains of sand off the top page then straightened the pile and settled it on her lap. “Nope. She never married. Never had any sort of serious commitment we knew about, so there’s a bit of mystery.”
“A secret affair?”
Millie giggled. “That would be scandalous. But no. I don’t think it was secret, it just didn’t last.” She let out a sad sigh. “I have two left to read, but they seem so in love right now. I’m not sure I want it to end. Listen to this.” She flipped to one of the pages in the middle of the stack.
“‘Each night I lie awake thinking about your beauty and the way it has changed me. Your zeal for life and love for humanity breathes life into my spirit. You, my love, are my reason for being.’” She flipped to the last page. “And this one. ‘I am a rich man, indeed. Rich in love. Rich in you. Forever with you simply isn’t long enough.’”
She dropped her hands back to her lap and stared out at the ocean, a blissful look softening her delicate features. “Isn’t that beautiful. How could something like that end?”
The guilt and pain he’d been carrying around squeezed his chest like a vise. He could imagine how something like that could end. It started with a golf swing and ended with a car crash. “Bad choices and bad luck.”
Millie froze, as if the words had shocked her, and she studied him for a second. Shock turned to sympathy and the gentle look in her soft brown eyes caused the vise on his chest to loosen just a bit.
“Are you okay?” And there it was again. The vibe that radiated from her wrapped around him like a compassionate hug, soothing him. Only this time, instead of explaining it away or ignoring it, he closed his eyes and allowed his aching soul to rest in it.
“It’s been a hard day.” He breathed the words out, letting the freedom of voicing them lift some of the burden.
She scooted over a bit and motioned to the space on the log next to her. “Want to sit? It’s a beautiful evening and Bear is a pretty good listener.” At the mention of his name, the dog lifted his furry head.
Braxton stared at the log. Did he want to sit? Standing here and shooting the breeze with a woman who inexplicably made him want to smile was one thing. But sitting? That felt like something else entirely.
He didn’t need one more thing to complicate his life, and his new neighbor with a money pit house and a livelihood that was currently blocked by the rules of a group he was president of sounded like a major complication.
Still, it was just a log and only a conversation.
He took the vacant spot and petted the dog, hoping focusing on this task would make the words come out easier. “We had a little setback with my friend, Henry, today.” He paused, backtracking a bit. “Have I told you about Henry?”
“Your old coach?” Millie asked, seeming somewhat familiar with the name.
He nodded. Coach was one word to describe him. Or mentor, confidant, friend…
Loss tugged at him as he scrolled through the list of titles that described one of the most important people in his life. “He has Alzheimer’s disease and it’s progressing more rapidly than we’d hoped. And today, for the first time, he didn’t remember who Alice was.”
“I’m so sorry.”
It wasn’t just the words that resonated with Braxton but her tone. Heartbroken, s
ympathetic, and supportive all rolled up into three little words that comforted his deepest wound.
Perhaps it was because the setting sun cast a golden glow that made the world look too good to be real, or the way the gentle waves rolled onto the shore in an almost perfect rhythm. Or perhaps it was the way Millie’s kindness hit him square in the chest. Whatever the reason, Braxton didn’t stop at his surface-level woes. Nope. Tonight he went straight for the deep stuff that he’d never voiced to anyone.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s my fault.”
“Oh?” She didn’t seem shocked by this statement or intent on trying to correct him. Instead, she sat, her caring eyes focused on him, ready to listen.
Encouraged, he continued, “My whole focus for so long was being the best. Youngest golfer to win back-to-back Masters. Youngest golfer to win all the majors. Most wins in a single season. It wasn’t enough to be good. I had to be the best.”
He ran his hands through his hair and stared out at the obscure spot where the ocean met the sky. “Because of that game, I lost everything.”
“Or maybe because of the game, you gained everything you had that was worth losing.”
Her words made him pause.
Golf had brought him some great things. His golf coach, the physical therapist he met when he was recovering from a back injury who later became his wife, the daughter they had together. His whole life had come together because of the one thing that ultimately sent his life into a spiral.
He nodded toward the letters in her hand. “Maybe my life is one of those stories with a tragic ending.”
Millie held up the letters. “I’m not sure what happened with this part, but my aunt would not have said her life had a tragic ending. A sad chapter? Maybe. But her overall story was remarkable.” Millie reached over and gently squeezed his hand. “Your story isn’t over yet.”
Her words—or maybe it was her touch—caused a flutter inside of him. Something warm and golden and shimmery. Hope. It flowed through him, past the barriers he put up, past the part of his heart that he had closed off, touching the darkest, loneliest places that had been off-limits for quite some time.
