Infinity's Daughter

by Laszlo, Jeremy

  But I didn’t. When the nurses came in that morning, I smiled at them, and told them my plans for the day. They were slightly more cheerful than usual, entertaining my enthusiasm, and even asked me questions about it before moving on with their rounds. I appreciated their kindness, even if it was faked. They had a job to do, after all. And I had company to attend to.

  At around three o’clock, everyone showed up. I had thought the morning would never end, sitting on the edge of my bed, peering out the window, just as I had done for so many years waiting for my father to return. Every now and then, I would try to read the newspaper, but gave up on it in my excitement. My mind wouldn’t retain it, anyway, and I couldn’t focus, so distracted was I. My mind was clouded that day, but in a fantastic way that I haven’t felt in years. It was clouded out of shear zeal for the day and what was to come. I made a note on my little list to plan more gatherings, to make a point to boost my energy and eagerness for existence.

  They got out of their car, and walked up to the front entrance to the building. I couldn’t contain myself. I almost started crying, seeing the four of them, one unknown but soon-to-be relative, all walking up the small sidewalk to come and see me. I felt loved then, in a way that I hadn’t in a while. I know Susan loves me, and so does Connor, but this small token of kindness, this tiny display of affection and support made me feel that I was still indeed a part of the family, and that they cared for me. Truly.

  Just a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. The nurse that I had seen earlier in the morning escorted them in, smiling and complimenting me as they all streamed through the doorway into my small, personal space. She was putting on her own display, but it didn’t bother me in the least. All I cared about was my family.

  Susan embraced me first, so youthful and beautiful as always. Age has begun to touch her. It surprises me on occasion, when I see her, expecting her to be the twenty year old who I married off to the young Italian policeman—but despite all the years, and her faint physical marks of aging, she looks incredibly well, and as beautiful as always.

  Todd was behind her. He, unfortunately, has not aged as well. He took up smoking, despite my and Susan’s protesting, and the wrinkles have hit him hard in his face and eyes. He has also gone heavy on his meat and potatoes. I fear for his blood pressure, and he shows it in his gut. But his face is still kind and sweet, with a youthful twinkle in his eyes. And his demeanor is as if he hasn’t aged at all since I met him. As far as I can tell, he is still that strapping young man who came from overseas to sweep my daughter off her feet. He hugged me with his still strong arms, and kissed both of my cheeks. He has always been such a good boy. The best husband for my daughter that I could have imagined.

  Behind Todd, Connor crept up, with a beautiful young woman standing at his side. She had black, curly hair that framed her face and flew out in little wisps around her cheeks and neck. Seeing her, I startled for a moment. She looked so utterly familiar, but I still can’t seem to place her. I wracked my brain about it this morning, but her image has begun to fade in my mind. I’m not sure that I will be able to put it together. Maybe he has brought her to visit before?

  Connor introduced her, holding his hand in the small of her back, looking very proud and very handsome. He was such a sweet boy, so smart and so dedicated to his family and his work. I was not at all surprised that he had ended up with such a lovely young woman. I can’t seem to remember her name, either, and it upsets me. I was so swept up in her appearance that I didn’t focus enough to retain it. I will have to ask Susan later.

  I have a little teakettle in my room, one of these fancy new electric ones. They don’t let me cook, but I am allowed to have small appliances. Therefore, I have a toaster, and this little tea thing. I don’t use the toaster much, but Susan badly wanted me to have one, and purchased it as a surprise when I moved in. I think she was still sullen about my leaving, and wanted to buy me anything that could make me think of home, even if it was a silly little gift such as a toaster. But it is nice enough. And I must say, now and then I do have a small piece with my tea.

  I filled the little teapot with water, and placed it on the small hot pad to heat up so we could all enjoy some together. Susan liked my idea of a walk through the gardens and agreed that we would all go together after tea. Todd smiled, saying that he hadn’t seen the sun in ages, and that it would do him some good. Susan laughed, and patted his knee.

  I poured them all a mug, and offered them some little cookies I had bought on my last outing with Susan. Connor took one, then took my hand, and stood up to address the room.

  “Grandma,” he said, still holding my hand, “I have some exciting news.”

  For a moment, I had no idea what in the world it could be. But then my mind cleared once again, parting a path through the fog, and I remembered what Susan had said. I looked at her, excitedly, and she returned the glance, her eyebrows raising up and nodding vigorously without drawing too much attention to herself.

  “Tell me,” I said, smiling. I grabbed both of Connor’s hands in anticipation, squeezing them while he took a deep breath and looked back to his darling.

  “We are engaged to be married,” Connor said. The girl put her hand over her face, which I imagined she had been doing rather often since their announcement, and gave out a little cry of laughter that triggered two small tears to fall across her face. She was beautiful indeed, and she seemed very sweet.

  I clapped both of my hands, overwhelmed with joy, and still in shock at the incredible passage of time. “Congratulations, my dear, congratulations.” I stood up and walked over to Connor, embracing him and patting him on the back. “I’m so happy for you,” I said, looking into his eyes. “You are such a blessing.” His eyes had welled up, too, and he blinked the tears back, smiling with all his might.

  “I love you, Grandma,” he said.

  “I love you, too, honey,” I told him.

  I stepped over to his fiancée, her pretty eyes still damp, and her cheeks slightly flushed. I hugged her tightly, welcoming her into the family. “Thank you so much for coming to meet me, it means the world, dear,” I said to her.

  “Of course,” she said, “I’d heard so much about you, I couldn’t wait to meet you. And we wanted to tell you in person, for you to be a part of it.”

  In my happiness, my own tears began to flow. Susan stood up and grabbed me, holding me in our joy and amazement. The years ran by like a gust of wind, calm and quickly. You don’t realize where they have gone until they have passed. And the happenings they produce are incredible, you must always hold onto those moments, and never let them go.

  Connor touched my back, and I pulled away from Susan to look at him. He invited me to their wedding, and I began to cry again. I can’t remember now when it is, but I have told Susan to remind me. I know she will, and all I can do is hope that I will be well enough, and mentally fit enough, to attend.

  It was one of the most beautiful days I have had in a long time. I was able to unwind, and forget myself, forget my fatigue and the fog that haunts my mind. I recognized how much I have to be thankful for, and an incredible family that loves me. They stayed for another couple of hours, walking in the gardens with me, and joining me in the big dining area downstairs for an early dinner. It was just what I had needed. They escorted me upstairs before they left, very thoughtful. When they left, I went to the window to watch them depart, and noticed Connor’s car. For some reason, I felt a strange wave of déjà vu wash over me, and I knew that the car was a Camaro. I couldn’t see it particularly well from the window, my vision is no longer what it used to be, but somehow I just knew. Susan must have told me this, also, when he purchased it.

  I will try to be more vigilant now, in my mind and my health. My family is everything to me, and I couldn’t live without them. Tomorrow, I will begin again with the newspaper.

  I don’t even know the year.

  And so we come to today. My mind is fading on me, I can feel it. Though, I am surp
rised at how forgiving I am to let it go. At times it is frustrating. But, as is the case now, typically it feels like a gentle breeze on a summer’s day. It’s very soft, pulling me away slowly, taking me sailing through time and away through the memories. I’m not frightened. I only wish that I had a better grasp of what was happening day to day. I can look back through my journal to understand where I have been, the only problem is knowing where I am going. And I don’t know that.

  I know that Susan is coming to retrieve me sometime this afternoon, something is happening but I can’t seem to remember what. I have to say, I am so glad that I began writing everything down decades ago when I did. Otherwise I’m sure that I would have confused the details and wouldn’t have made it through up until now.

  The sky is a bright blue today. I can see it out of my window. The clouds are full and fluffy, and they make me think of all of the spring days past. Honestly, I’m not sure what day it is anymore. They tell me the day when they come in to give me my meals in the morning. But I don’t pay attention. I suppose it doesn’t really matter, anyway. But I do know that it’s spring.

  Things have gotten worse, or better, depending upon how I look at it. I’ve forgotten my own name on more than one occasion, but it always comes back to me. I’ve mistaken one of the nurses for Susan, but only momentarily. I still have haunting visions.

  Just last week the orderlies came rushing in, in the night, to find me thrashing about and screaming for my father not to leave. They calmed me down, finding me in such a pitiful state, crying in my sleep over what they deemed to be nothing more than a delusional night terror. They asked me what was wrong, and in my confused state, I told them that my father had left me. That he had vanished back in time, leaving me to grow up alone.

  I think they were the first people I ever disclosed the happenstance to. This surprised me, when I realized later what had happened. When I awoke in the morning, I thought it had all been a dream until they asked me about it again. I shook my head, pretending I didn’t know what they were talking about. My mind may be fading, but I’m not yet a fool. And I know that if I told them, they would think I am even more helpless than they already do. And so I continue to hold onto my secret. My secret truth, or delusion, whatever it is, but it is mine. And I am not ready to let them go.

  There is a quiet knock on the door. An orderly trails in with Susan close behind her.

  “Hi, Mom!” Susan comes over to hug me. She is the light of my life. I cannot imagine going on without her there. If she were not to return one day, I would most definitely throw in the towel. I have lived through enough as it is, I don’t think my heart could take any more pain.

  “Susan,” I say. My voice is crackly now. I never thought that day would come, but it has. It is surprising how the world wears on your body.

  Susan smiled. “We’re going to see the new baby! Your first great grandchild, and my first grandbaby! Can you believe it?”

  I looked at her blankly. No, I couldn’t believe it. Honestly, I couldn’t remember who was having a baby. It must be Connor. I felt so badly after missing his wedding. How lovely, though, for him to become a father. He was such a handsome young man, a good man.

  The orderly walks beside Susan as she wheels me down the hallway to the elevator where they both gently help me in, making sure that my feet don’t get hit by the doors, or the wheels get caught up in the little lines between the floor and the car. I never liked elevators. The doors move too quickly.

  We arrive on the ground floor, and the orderly and Susan wheel me through the automated doors, to meet her car on the pavement. She is driving one of the large station wagons, with wood grain curving along the sides. It is maroon, and from here I can see the white leather interior. I hope it isn’t too cold.

  They both help me in. Susan is beaming and telling me how excited they are that I am going to be there to see the baby. It is certainly Connor’s. Susan has confirmed this. I just can’t believe how quickly the time has seemed to pass by. It feels like just yesterday he was a young boy in the Fifties, playing in Susan’s backyard. And now, here he is, with a child of his own. Memories begin rushing over my mind from all of the years past, recalling all of the births, and deaths. All of the lives lost. It is a miracle that they have had this child. I cannot wait to see my great grandbaby. And yet, I don’t believe I have ever met Connor’s wife. I didn’t make it to the wedding. At least I don’t think I did. I feel we may have met briefly before, but I cannot put a face to her, or a name. That will be lovely too. To meet my grandson’s wife and their first child. It is a beautiful day.

  I looked over at Susan. I cannot believe how she has aged. Suddenly, it is as if I am looking at myself, just ten years ago or so. Since when did she become an old woman? This cannot be right. I’ll have to take a second look. Eyeing her face, I can see the wrinkles in the creases of her eyes, and how gravity has pulled the skin on her cheeks downward, giving her little jowls of her own. Honestly, we might have been mistaken for sisters rather than mother and daughter. But I suppose that this is the way of time. She is a secretive mistress, always catching you off guard, and hiding her secrets in your decay.

  The car is going very quickly now. Susan is still talking to me about the baby, and how thrilled Connor and his wife is. Telling me how thrilled they both are that I will be present to see my first great grandbaby. I can’t remember the last time I was in a car. It feels like it’s been ages. I hope Susan can drive alright in her old age. But hearing her speak, she seems very competent and youthful. It’s just her appearance that gives her away. Anyway, it’s better that she’s driving than I am. I’m starting to get confused about why we’re even in the car in the first place. I probably wrote it down, somewhere higher on the page. I’ll look back if I get confused.

  We pull up to the driveway of a hospital. The place looks familiar, and we haven’t driven too far. It must be the county general hospital. But why are we here again? I think Susan said something about a baby, but now that we’re here it’s starting to worry me. Am I sick? Is she sick? Her baby?

  We roll into the little valet parking area, and Susan hops out of the car, so limber still. I am rather impressed, wishing that I could forgo my wheelchair and dance nimbly out of the vehicle along with my daughter. She goes around to the passenger side of the station wagon and assists a new orderly with my wheelchair, unfolding it for me and then reaching out for my hand, escorting me into the seat.

  We’re going inside now. Although I’ve been living in a seniors’ home, it has been a while since I have been inside a hospital. And though my mind is fading, my health has held on quite spectacularly. I have had no reason to visit one, for better or worse. Going inside now, with Susan behind me, wheeling me along, I feel a tingle of fear run up my spine. Hospitals always have that distinctive smell—like cleaning agents and sweat, the kind of sweat that lingers in humid air, a sweet and slightly nauseating smell, which they try to overpower with astringent alcohol.

  I watch as doctors in white coats hurry past me, and nurses carrying little stethoscopes, their mouths and noses concealed by the little white facemasks, scuttle past hastily. It is rather nerve-wracking, and I feel myself tense up. Now I’m not sure why we are here at all. I can’t help but think of Sam, wondering if he is okay—no, he is dead. But why are we here? Who has died this time? My mind is getting the better of me, and I feel the confusion washing over me in a glaze. I cry out for Susan, reaching behind me in the wheelchair.

  “Mom!” she says, reaching her hand down to grab mine. There is an orderly following us, too, who I haven’t noticed. She looks at me innocently and smiles. I ignore her and squeeze Susan’s hand. “It’s okay, we’re here to see the new baby, remember? Connor’s baby?”

  I shake my head, embarrassed at my confusion. “Yes, oh yes, thank you, dear.” I look back at her and blow her a kiss, nodding my head in gracious solidarity, hoping for her understanding of my ailment. I know she does. She is so good to me.

  We have arr
ived at another elevator bank. The door opens, and the orderly props out her hand, making sure the door stays open long enough for them to maneuver me into the little car. They should really make these things bigger.

  We go to the third floor, where, when the door opens, Susan grabs my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “this is where they are, Mom! Thank you so much for coming, I love you.”

  I smile, feeling her love pour over me in her words. I grab her hand that rests on my shoulder and give it another squeeze. “I love you too, Susan.” Looking into her eyes, I can see nothing but pure joy. I haven’t see her this happy in years. It is a wonderful moment that I will cherish in my heart.

  Susan wheels me out of the elevator, the orderly in the lead now. They roll me up to a room, and the orderly pokes her head in. We can see Connor through the doorway, and he looks up from his newborn child to greet us, running up to hug his mother, first.

  “Hey, Sue!” Connor’s fiancée, no, now wife, calls out to Susan. Susan rushes over to kiss her, she looks so beautiful, and so familiar. I can’t place the memory. I’m certain we’ve met. Her hair is fluffed out in little wisps that frame the edges of her face. I know I have seen that face before… but it was somewhere else. Something I haven’t seen in a long time.

  Susan is staring teary eyed at her grandbaby, or granddaughter I am gathering from the little pink bow that is perched on top of her tiny little head. Connor kisses her head, and then lifts her out of his mother’s arms, holding her up in my direction. I smile, looking at the beautiful little baby in his arms.

  “Grandma,” Connor says to me, smiling, “This is Alice. Alice Caitlyn Russo.”

  Everything stops. Oh my God. No—no—no, it can’t be true. The lights are spinning and I feel a tightness in my chest as everything has become suddenly and horribly clear. My journal falls deftly on the floor, the pages fluttering briefly before it folds shut. I look at the people in the room and immediately place the familiarity in Connor’s wife’s face. Mom. The date is April 8, 1980, the day of my birth. I can see it stamped on the little bracelet around the baby’s—around—my own wrist. It can’t be true, it can’t be true, but the horror is too much and I am panicking. It all makes sense in some terrible, sick and twisted sense of fate and time and mystery and anything else anyone has wanted to call it. I am looking at my family, and my grandson is my father. All of these years I have been waiting for him to come back, all of these years I have been wondering where my mother has been and what would become of her, all of these years I have been waiting for a sign, some hint that I would see my family again. But not this. I can already see it. The cycle playing out over and over again throughout the ages. There must have been some way to prevent it. I don’t care about the paradox anymore—there must be some way to stop it. I can’t go back with my father—this can’t happen again…