by Cronk, LN
“Did it make you happy?” she finally asked.
“You always make me happy,” I told her softly and she gave me the first smile I’d seen in two days.
I gave her another kiss, longer this time, and when I was done Laci said, “I’ll be sure to keep doughnuts in stock.”
“And Coke,” I reminded her.
“Right,” she nodded. “And Coke.”
Mrs. White came back into the kitchen and Laci and I let go of each another. I set the doughnuts and the Coke on the counter.
“Would you like a doughnut?” I offered Mrs. White, opening the package.
“I wouldn’t want to risk losing a limb.”
“I’m suddenly feeling very generous,” I promised, pushing them toward her.
She looked at me suspiciously, but then reached in and took a doughnut. “That was Jordan,” she said, nodding to her phone.
“Oh.”
“They’re going to come visit this weekend,” she explained.
“Oh,” I said again, nodding. I wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Charlotte’s going to be okay,” Mrs. White promised quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I looked at her skeptically. “I know it’s not going to be easy at first, but you and I both know that she will manage to get through this.”
I gave her another nod, but I felt myself sigh.
“I think,” I said, glancing at Laci, “that we’re going to need more doughnuts.”
We had bacon and eggs with our doughnuts and Coke. Laci claimed that the entire combination was disgusting, but I noticed that didn’t stop her from eating four of my doughnuts (compared to Mrs. White’s three), leaving me with only nine. We didn’t talk about Charlotte or Alzheimer’s or my dad, but instead kept the conversation on fun stuff (like grandkids) and we smiled and kidded and laughed.
The more I smiled and the more I laughed, the more Laci did too. It was almost amazing to watch how she mirrored whatever she saw in me and by the time we had cleaned up from breakfast and Mrs. White had said goodbye, I knew that I had discovered an important truth.
Laci was going to handle this the same way that she saw me handle it.
~ ~ ~
LATER THAT DAY I called each of the kids just as I’d told Laci I’d wanted to. It really had been a good idea and I think each one of them felt better after talking to me in my new and improved mood.
That evening, Laci dropped me off at the restaurant across from the Y that Tanner had suggested, and then headed over to pick up Mrs. White (who didn’t like to drive after dark anymore). I was waiting in the lobby when Tanner arrived and the hostess led us to our table after we’d greeted one another.
“I saw that the varsity girls only lost one game so far this year,” I told Tanner after we’d settled into a booth and ordered our drinks.
“Yeah,” he nodded eagerly. “We’ve got this one chick . . . she’s about six-two and she can handle the ball like nothin’ you’ve ever seen. And she’s only a junior, so as long as she doesn’t get injured, next year’s lookin’ pretty good, too.”
“I could be wrong,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure ‘chick’ is a politically incorrect term . . .”
“You sound like Natalie,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.
“When do you see Natalie?”
Natalie was one of Laci’s best friends and one of Tanner’s old girlfriends.
“We get together sometimes,” he shrugged.
“And how does her husband feel about that?” I smiled.
“I don’t know,” he smiled right back. “How do you feel about it when I get together with Laci?”
(Laci was also one of Tanner’s old girlfriends.)
“I hate you, Tanner,” I said as the waitress approached the table. “I absolutely hate you.”
He grinned at me as she set our drinks down in front of us.
“You wanna talk to me about something,” Tanner said after she’d taken our orders and left.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve known you for over half a century,” he laughed.
I smiled back at him.
“So you gonna tell me now or wait until dessert?”
I shrugged at him. “No time like the present, right?”
“Go for it.”
I swallowed hard, looked down at my hands and asked God to help me do something that I hadn’t been able to do for forty years.
“You know,” I began, “I’ve had the chance to meet a lot of people who need things over the years.”
He nodded.
“And Laci and I’ve always . . . we’ve always tried to help them in any way we could, you know, give them food, a place to stay – whatever they’ve needed.”
He nodded again.
“And that’s important and everything, but . . .”
“But what?” he asked when I stopped.
I sighed.
“Remember when we went on that mission trip before high school?”
Mike, Laci, Greg and I had all gone to Mexico with our youth group. Tanner didn’t belong to our church and hadn’t gone, but he knew what I was talking about.
“Yeah.”
“Well,” I went on, “Mike and Greg and I met this kid in the landfill. His name was Miguel. He was living in this shack made out of cardboard and his leg was all crippled and–”
“You told me about him,” Tanner reminded me.
“Oh. Well, anyway, we really wanted to do something for him, like build him something better to live in or something, but our leader wouldn’t let us. He said anything we did would just get torn down and basically we’d be wasting our time. He gave us some things to read to him about Jesus instead and we prayed with him and stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” Tanner said, clearly having no idea where I was going with this.
“The last day we went there, though,” I laughed, “we took all this stuff with us and tried to fix his place up anyway. There wasn’t much we could do, but I guess we figured it was better than nothing.”
Tanner smiled.
“And Mike was upset afterward. He felt like we hadn’t done enough, you know?”
Tanner nodded.
“But Greg said that we did the most important thing, you know – talking to him about Jesus . . . and praying with him? That that was the most important thing. You know what I mean?”
“Sure.”
“And so, yeah, sure, Laci and I’ve done a lot for people over the years by helping them and stuff,” I said, “but the most important thing we’ve done is to pray with them and tell them about Jesus. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know how many people we’ve done that for over the years?” I asked him.
“Thousands?”
“Well,” I smiled, “maybe not thousands, but probably hundreds.”
“You and Laci’ve done a lot of good,” he acknowledged.
“But you know how many of those people we actually know?” I asked him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, most of those people were complete strangers. We never saw them again after we talked to them.”
“Okay,” he said, looking at me. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that we – that I – have spent my whole life doing the most important thing for people that I don’t even know – people I’ll probably never even see again.”
“So?”
“So,” I said slowly, “what about the people that I do know? What about the people that are most important in my life?”
He looked at me carefully and then I saw a flash of realization cross his face.
“Me?” he asked in disbelief.
I nodded.
“That’s why we’re here?”
I nodded again.
“So you’re all worried that you’ve spent forty years talking to everybody else about God and now you wanna make sure you don’t leave me out, is that it?”
“Yeah,
” I said. “Basically, that’s it.”
“You’ve spent plenty of time talking to me about God,” he informed me dryly.
“No,” I disagreed. “I haven’t.”
He looked at me for a moment and then shook his head back and forth.
“Listen,” he said, smiling tightly, “I really appreciate you coming here and everything and I understand what you’re trying to do and all, but . . .”
“But what?”
His face turned serious.
“You really shouldn’t have wasted your time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, David,” he hesitated. “You’re not gonna wanna hear this, but since you brought it up . . .”
“I’m not gonna wanna hear what?” I asked, a real knot beginning to form in the pit of my stomach.
He didn’t say anything.
“What?” I finally insisted.
He took a deep breath.
“Do you know what Taoism is?” he finally asked.
“You mean like ying and yang and all that?”
“It’s yin,” he corrected me. “Not ying.
“Taoism,” he went on, ignoring my stare, “literally means ‘the way of virtue’.”
He drew a circle on a napkin and drew an ‘S’ to separate it into two halves. Then he shaded one side.
“This is yin,” he said, pointing to the light side. “It represents the positive forces of good and light and life.” Then he pointed to the shaded side. “This is yang. It represents the negative forces of evil and darkness and death. We believe–”
“We?” I interrupted him. “Who’s we?”
“Those of us who follow the Tao,” he looked at me and blinked.
I covered my eyes with one hand and propped my elbow on the table.
Oh God, I prayed, what am I supposed to say to him now?
“Actually,” I heard Tanner saying, “maybe this one’s yang and this one’s yin. I could never really keep that straight.”
I lifted my eyes from my hand and glared at him. He was grinning at me.
“Oh man, Tanner,” I said, shaking my head. “See, this is why I hate you!”
“That’s not a very Christian-like thing to say,” he said innocently.
I slumped down in my seat and let out a big, long breath.
“You shoulda seen the look on your face!” he cried, putting his head down on the table. His shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“You know what?” I told him, reaching for my drink. “I couldn’t care less if you’re saved or not!”
That just made him laugh harder. I took a drink and narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to stop laughing.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, sitting up again and wiping his eyes with his hand. He didn’t sound one bit sorry. “You’re so fun to pick on.”
I glared at him some more.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, trying to compose himself. “It was very nice of you to try and . . . witness to me, but you don’t need to worry about it.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m good,” he assured me.
“Define ‘good’.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, looking mildly uncomfortable.
“What do you want me to say?” he finally asked.
“I wanna know if you’re saved or not,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I thought you just said you didn’t care if I was saved or not,” he smiled.
“Come on, Tanner . . .”
“Look,” he said, “I don’t really use words like that and I’m not very good at praying and everything, but . . . don’t worry, I believe in God.”
“That’s not good enough,” I said, shaking my head.
“And I read the Bible every day.”
“That’s not good enough, either.”
“That’s gonna have to be good enough.”
“Tanner,” I said, “I’m glad you’re reading the Bible and I’m glad you believe in God, but–”
“David,” he interrupted me, “why are you all of a sudden so interested in my soul?”
I looked at him for a moment and realized I wasn’t going to get any further with him today.
“That’s the other reason I’m here,” I finally sighed, leaning back in my seat.
“Oh, boy . . . this outta be good.”
I nodded in agreement and he looked at me expectantly.
“Laci and I’ve actually been in the States for a few days now,” I finally began.
“You said you just got in yesterday,” he said, looking confused.
“We got in to Cavendish yesterday,” I explained. “We flew in to Rochester on Sunday. We stayed with Mike. We had some . . . appointments.”
“Appointments?”
“Yeah,” I nodded.
He didn’t say anything.
“At the Mayo Clinic,” I clarified, and I watched his face drop. “Don’t worry,” I added hastily. “They were for me, not for Laci.”
He continued to stare at me, looking more and more dismayed with each passing second.
“I don’t wanna hear this,” he finally said quietly.
“No,” I admitted. “You don’t.”
He pressed his lips together, looked away and shook his head. After a moment he started drumming his fingers on the table again. I gave him some time until he was finally able to pull himself together long enough to look at me again.
“What?” he demanded at long last. “Go ahead and tell me. What?”
“Early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
“You?”
I nodded.
“You have early-onset Alzheimer’s?”
I nodded again.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
It means that I’m going to forget who you are. It means that I’m going to forget who Laci is. It means I’m going to forget how to feed myself and how to go to the bathroom and I’m going to need constant care and I’m going to ruin Laci’s life. It means she’s going to spend somewhere between three and fifteen years feeding me and watching me drool.
“You know what Alzheimer’s is,” I shrugged. “It just means I’ve got it earlier than usual, that’s all.”
He was quiet for a minute.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I . . . I really don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it.”
“I shouldn’t have given you such a hard time when you tried to talk to me. I’m sorry I joked around like that.”
“No,” I assured him. “It’s okay. I want everyone to treat me normal, you know?”
He looked at me skeptically.
“I’m serious, Tanner,” I said, giving him a half-hearted smile. “If I don’t keep my sense of humor about this I’m not going to be able to get through it.”
“That implies that you already have a sense of humor,” he deadpanned and I gave him a real smile.
“That’s the spirit!”
“How’s Laci handling this?” he asked, immediately serious again.
“I don’t know,” I sighed, shaking my head. “That’s the worst part about it . . . knowing what she’s going to have to go through. I can hardly stand to think about it. I don’t know how she’s going to do it and I feel so sorry for her. She’s going to need so much help and I’m not going to be able to do anything for her.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“I’ll be there for her,” he promised quietly.
“Ha! I’ll bet you will,” I laughed. “You’ve been waiting for years for me to kick the bucket so you could make your move on her.”
“David . . .” he looked at me sadly.
“Unfortunately for you,” I continued on, ignoring him, “I’m probably going to be around for a long, long time, so you can just keep your big, ugly paws off of Laci.”
~ ~ ~
THE NEXT DAY we went to the nursing home to see my dad. We’d been home for two days already and hadn’t vi
sited him yet and I felt guilty about that.
I hated going to the nursing home to visit my dad.
I felt guilty about that, too.
We found him sitting at the end of the hall, all by himself in his wheelchair, facing a wall.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, leaning over, hugging him, and kissing him on his cheek. His face was rough and I wondered when had been the last time that someone had given him a shave. Laci leaned down and hugged him too.
“It’s me,” I told him. “David.”
He looked at me and may have nodded, his mouth sagging open slightly. I couldn’t tell if he really knew that it was me or not, but he did look me in the eye and I took that as a good sign.
“What are you doing all the way down here?” I asked him. “You wanna go into the lobby or something so Laci and I can sit down and maybe we can visit?”
He possibly nodded again and I got behind his wheelchair and started pushing.
Visit. What a joke.
We settled in to comfortable chairs in a cheery room that wasn’t cheery at all and Laci and I spent thirty minutes “visiting” with him, telling him every detail we could think of about the kids and the grandkids while he sat silently. Then Laci pulled out her phone and showed him some pictures. When she was finished she put her phone away and picked up my dad’s hand.
“You wouldn’t believe how fast Zoa’s growing,” she told him, running her thumb over the back of his hand. “I’ll have Meredith send some new pictures and next time we come I’ll bring those, too, so you can see them, okay?”
We got another possible nod and I saw Laci glance down and look at his hand that she was holding in her own.
“I’ll be right back,” she told me, and she got up very suddenly and walked down the hall.
I looked uncomfortably at my dad. Unless I wanted to start talking with him about how I’d spent my week (which I didn’t), I was completely out of things to say.
“It’s supposed to get really cold by the end of the week,” I finally told him. “I was thinking I might put some weather stripping around those windows that are overlooking the deck. I thought I felt some cold air coming in there the other day and that’s the side of the house that really seems to get most of the wind so I figured it might be a good idea.”
