by Mike Befeler
I looked at the screen.
“Here’s Nurse Ratched from the movie. She doesn’t look anything like Melanie.”
“You found a picture that quickly?”
“Sure.”
I remembered something I read in my journal that morning. “Why don’t you see if you can find some obscure baseball fact.”
“How come?”
“It’ll be something fun we can do at dinner,” I said.
“Okey, dokey.” She tapped away at the keyboard, paused, looked at the screen, and then tapped again.
“Here’s one. The Brooklyn Dodgers went on a tour of Japan in 1956.”
“We’ll try that one,” I said.
As we waited for the elevator, Jennifer said, “Grandpa, why don’t you learn to use a computer? You have a room full of them right here on your floor.”
“At my age it’s hard to learn new things. I grew up before computers.”
“You’re never too old to learn something new. I’m just now learning to ride a surfboard. You can do it if you really want to.” She set her lips and stared at me.
“I guess I really don’t want to,” I said.
She shook her head. “Grandpa, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“I guess you’re stuck with me the way I am.”
When we entered the dining hall, Marion was already at the table waiting for us. I introduced my two girls to each other.
Jennifer’s eyes lit up. “I saw your picture on Grandpa’s dresser.”
Marion smiled at me. “So you really did keep it.”
“Of course,” I said. I turned toward Jennifer. “Marion helped me pick out the Hawaiian stuffed animals for you.”
“Those were great! I especially like the mongoose. Did you know mongooses were brought to Hawaii to catch rats?”
“You have more facts than Henry,” I said. “Speaking of Henry, here he comes.”
Henry waddled over and sat down. Meyer joined us moments later.
Meyer and Jennifer hit it right off. They started discussing surfing while Henry slurped his soup.
“Jennifer, you might want to ask Henry some baseball facts,” I said.
“Okay,” she said. “What team went on a tour to what country in what year in the 1950s?”
Henry looked up from his soup, liquid dripping from his mouth. He wrinkled his brow. He clenched his teeth. Finally, he squeezed his hands into tight balls. “It would have to be the Yankees, Dodgers, or Giants. It could be to the Caribbean or the Orient. Let me think.”
You could almost hear the gears turning and see smoke coming out of his head. “Yankees to Cuba in 1954?”
“Nope,” Jennifer said. “Dodgers to Japan in 1956.”
Henry sagged in his chair.
“That’s okay, Henry,” I said. “We still respect you, even if you’ve been stumped by an eleven-year-old.”
“First time this ever happened,” Meyer said. He stood up and started pacing around the table.
Henry glared at us, then returned to his soup.
“There’s a concert tonight at seven, lasts an hour,” Marion said to me. “You and Jennifer want to come?”
“What kind of concert?” I asked.
“The Punahou School choir is singing.”
I looked at Jennifer. She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you go with your friends, Grandpa. I’ll wait upstairs. I’ve brought my book to read.”
* * * * *
After dinner I helped Jennifer settle into the easy chair in my apartment and adjusted the light for her.
“Why was your friend Meyer walking back and forth behind his chair?” she asked.
“Not much escapes you, does it?”
“I notice things. What was he doing, Grandpa?”
“He has an attention deficit disorder. He gets hyper at times and starts pacing.”
“Oh. I had a kid like that in my class last year. Couldn’t sit still.”
“That sounds like the same thing. Now, you’re sure you don’t mind being up here alone?”
“I’ll be fine. I have to read more about the real Nurse Ratched.”
* * * * *
At the concert, I sat next to Marion and held her hand. The kids in the choir sang a medley of Hawaiian songs and then ended with a round of pop tunes.
“Jennifer would have enjoyed hearing this,” Marion said afterward.
“She seemed intent on reading her book, but I need to get right back.”
I decided to sneak up on Jennifer. I opened the door to my apartment and tiptoed in. She was sitting in the middle of the rug, not reading her book, but reading my journal.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
She flinched. “Grandpa, this is so interesting, what you’ve been writing.”
“That’s my private journal.”
“It’s all right. I’m not going to tell anyone. I keep a journal, but I like yours better.”
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Sure.” Rising from the rug, she stacked the sheets of paper and sat on the couch. “How was the concert?”
“Don’t change the subject. There are things in my journal that you shouldn’t be reading.”
“You mean being a murder suspect? I know you didn’t do it.”
“I’m glad for the vote of confidence,” I said.
“But I know who did.”
“Are you some kind of super detective?”
“No, I just read what you wrote,” Jennifer said. “You also know who it is.”
“Yeah, but go ahead and tell me anyway.”
“See, someone hit Mr. Tiegan with a bottle and stole his stamp collection. Then he went to the stamp store to try to sell it. It’s the man with a scar on his cheek.”
“How do you suppose he got into my apartment to discard the bottle, then into the trash chute to get rid of Tiegan?”
“Easy. He copied the keys.”
It all clicked. “You’re a genius,” I said. “That must be it. He stole Moki’s keys. All along I thought Moki was involved.”
“So all you have to do is find the man with the scar on his cheek.”
“That should be easy. I can walk around Oahu until I find him.”
She clucked her tongue. “No, Grandpa. You need to set a trap.”
“I think I inadvertently already did that. Ended up in a ditch.”
“You have to try again. Something to flush him out.” She thought for a moment. “Besides the stamp stores, you should get more word out that you want to buy a Swiss stamp collection.”
“We’ll discuss that later. Now, about reading my journal, young lady. I also wrote some pretty intimate details that weren’t for other eyes.”
“Oh, the sex with Marion? That’s okay. I know all about sex.”
“You do?”
“We had a sex-ed class in school this last year,” Jennifer said. “Mom and Dad won’t discuss it, but the teacher answered all my questions.”
“I need to explain about Marion and me. . . .”
“Are you going to marry her?”
“We’re pretty old for that,” I said. “I’d be hard to live with. No memory and all.”
She pursed her lips. “You and Marion could live together without getting married.”
“What kind of comment is that?”
“You should do what makes you happy. For me, I’ve decided not to have sex until I’m twenty-one.”
“You could wait until you’re married or in your eighties.”
“Oh, Grandpa. You say the funniest things.”
“I thought I was being serious.”
“Kids my age are curious about sex. Still doesn’t mean that I’m going to rush into it or that I’ll wait forever.”
“Just wait until you’re really in love with someone.”
She smiled at me. “That’s exactly what I’ve decided. I’m not planning to be in love until I’m twenty-one.”
“You can’t always predict those things.”
“But I have so many things to do in the next ten years. Once I graduate from college, then it will be different.”
“Have you planned your life that far ahead?”
She laughed. “You sound like my mom. She’s always telling me to lighten up. Parents are never satisfied. If I were a troublemaker, they’d be upset. Since I know what I want to do, they worry I’ll grow up too serious.”
“I’m still not pleased that you read my journal.”
“It can be our secret, Grandpa. There’s one other thing I read while I was waiting.”
“Uh, oh. What’s that?”
“The letters from your dad that my mom gave to you. Have you read them yet?”
“I don’t think I have. I don’t remember for sure.”
“There’s one in particular you should see.” Jennifer walked over to my dresser and selected a letter. “I’ll read it to you.”
She settled onto the couch, unfolded the letter and started reading: “’Dear Marge—’”
“That was my mom’s name. Your great-grandmother.”
Jennifer nodded and continued. “’I hope to wrap up this trip in another two weeks. Then I can get back home to you and Paul. I’ve closed three good-sized deals so we’ll be able to buy that new ice box. One disconcerting thing happened today. I went to see Mr. Andrews at Granger to get him to reorder. His secretary told me I had already been to see him the day before. I checked my order book and sure enough, I had an order written down from the day before. I still don’t remember going there. I must have been on the road too long and my memory is getting mushy. Give Paul a hug from me, and I have one saved for you. Love, Bart.’”
My skin felt clammy as it sank in.
“Your dad had memory problems too,” Jennifer said.
“I never realized that. He died of a stroke when I was nineteen, but I never paid much attention to what was going on. I was in my own world, and my dad was gone a lot.”
“You inherited your bad memory, Grandpa.”
“So that’s what’s in store for me,” I said. “A stroke. At least I’ve lived longer than he did. He died when he was in his late fifties.”
“Did you miss him?”
“Of course. It’s always hard when your father dies.”
“Since you don’t remember things, do you remember how you feel?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“Just wondering.”
The doorbell rang, and it was Denny and Allison.
“Did you two have a good evening together?” Denny asked.
Jennifer grabbed her book and headed for the door. “Yes. I learned a lot about Grandpa.” She turned toward me, gave me a wink, and skipped out the door.
After they left, I sat there, running my hand over my journal. My mind rumbled around with thoughts pertaining to the energy of youth and how I was going through what my father must have also experienced. I wondered what was in store for me. Then I pondered the question Jennifer had asked me. Did I remember what I felt yesterday?
Chapter 18
The next morning I woke up as confused as could be. Where the hell was I? Then I saw a note on the nightstand: “Read this and try to think how you felt yesterday.”
What a dumb note.
I considered chucking the pile of paper, thought better of it, and finally sat down to digest what was written there.
Damn. My granddaughter had visited me, and I remembered zip.
I had written all this crap to make up for a defective memory. I didn’t know whether to laugh or slit my wrists. Instead, I tried to answer the comment in the note. How did I feel?
I felt like the guy who woke up and discovered he was a cockroach. One moment in a blissful dream and the next in a world I didn’t recognize. Nothing stuck from the day before. No event, no people, no specific feelings. Then a wave of sadness broke over me. My granddaughter and I had spent time together, and it was like reading about someone else’s life. My feelings? Sadness. Regret. Reaching out for something that wasn’t there. A mirage. A chimera.
My brain was stuffed full of old memories. Five years old and going to a park with my mom. Learning to drive a Model T in Long Beach. Getting married. Missing Rhonda. But yesterday? A blank. A void. Nada.
Fear gripped my gut. Cut it out, you old fool. You have a brain that’s on strike. Some people lose their legs, others their lungs. You got dealt mush in your cranium.
And on top of it all, I was the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Jennifer had given me an idea, and I needed to do something. Immediately.
I dressed and followed the directions from the journal: down to the second floor, table eleven.
The bald-headed and white-bearded guys mentioned in the journal sat at the table.
“Your granddaughter is a dynamo,” the white-haired guy said.
“Yeah, apparently so, from what I read.”
“Keep writing in your journal,” he said.
“I don’t know what good it’s doing. I don’t recognize you. You’re like a character in some novel I read.”
“The name’s Meyer,” he said, holding out his hand.
We shook.
“Say, Meyer, I have a favor to ask you.”
He looked at me. “What’s that?”
“My granddaughter triggered a great idea for flushing out the murderer. I’m going to place an ad in the newspaper. I need a phone number for anyone answering the ad to call.”
“Why not use your own number?”
“Concluding from what I read this morning, the murderer already has my phone number and might recognize it.”
“What do you want me to do if he calls?”
“Set up a meeting at Star Stamp and Coin in Kailua. The pretext will be that you want to consider buying his collection and want an independent appraisal first.”
“I guess I can handle that.”
Henry looked up from his scrambled eggs. “Don’t you get tired of this memory problem every morning?”
I stared at him. “That’s an excellent question. To me at this moment, it’s all new. But reading my journal, I’ve been through this every day. You experience it over and over. For me, it’s new territory.”
Henry grunted and returned to his food. I pondered his question. I’m sure if I remembered, I would get tired of this routine, but since I didn’t remember. . . .
No sense going there.
But what had I done to deserve this? Why me? I looked around the room. Everyone here had some aspect of old age to deal with. Mine was memory.
Back in my apartment, I called the Honolulu Advertiser to place an ad.
“This is pretty unusual to advertise to purchase a stamp collection,” the woman on the line said.
“Well, can you do it or not?”
“We can handle it,” she replied in a clipped tone.
* * * * *
Later that morning Denny, Allison, and Jennifer showed up.
“We’re taking you to Sea Life Park, Grandpa.”
“As long as you don’t make me swim with the fishes,” I said.
“Oh, Grandpa. We’re going to watch the fishes. And porpoises and seals.”
After a pleasant drive along the coast, we arrived, paid our fee, and were soon walking down a ramp and looking through thick glass at a tank full of sea life.
“Look at all those fish, Grandpa,” Jennifer said, pointing toward a school of mullet sailing by the window.
“As long as they’re on the other side of the glass,” I said.
“Wouldn’t you like to be inside the tank using a face mask?”
“No way,” I said. “This is close enough for me.”
Over lunch Denny brought up the subject of a care home. “While we’re in the islands, we should take you to see some care homes, just to be prepared if you need one.”
“Why would I need a care home? I’m just getting used to this place. Not that I can remember it day to day.”
“That’s the point. With your
memory, you may at some time need additional assistance.”
“Hogwash. I’m getting along fine.”
Jennifer jumped in. “I think Grandpa should stay where he is, with his friends.”
“Enough, young lady,” Denny said. “This is a conversation between your grandfather and me.”
“I would listen to your daughter. She’s pretty smart.” I gave her a wink.
After we finished our hamburgers, we went to a sea lion show. I watched the lumbering beasts retrieve rings, balance basketballs, and eat fish. Reminded me of Henry eating breakfast.
These animals could learn new tricks, whereas I couldn’t remember what I had learned the day before.
In any case, Denny didn’t bring up the subject of a care home again.
“I have another surfboard lesson bright and early tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “Eight o’clock.”
“We thought we’d explore part of the island after that,” Denny said. “You want to join us, Dad?”
“Sure. Where’re you headed?”
“I want to visit one of the famous surfing spots,” Jennifer said. “We’re going to Makaha.”
“Haven’t been there in years, that I can remember anyway,” I said. “I’m game.”
* * * * *
“Expedition time,” Jennifer said as she bounced into my apartment the next day. “Mom and Dad are waiting in the car.”
“Are you kidnapping me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Grandpa, remember? We’re going to Makaha today. To see the surfers.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to go in the ocean.”
She stomped her foot, put her hands on her hips, and gave me a disgusted look. “We’re watching from the shore. I wish I could go surfing there, but the waves are awfully big for me. I’m still learning on the small ones.”
* * * * *
We drove on H-3 through the tunnel, intersected H-1 near the Honolulu stadium, passed Pearl Harbor, and sped through Nanakuli and Waianae.
As we approached Makaha Beach, we saw a long line of cars parked alongside the road.
Denny pulled in.
We walked half a mile to the beach, Jennifer holding my hand.
“Do you like hiking, Grandpa?”
“Yeah. As long as it’s not all uphill. I try to get out every day for an hour or so of walking. Keeps my old wheels moving.”
