by Cronk, LN
Tanner was quiet for a minute, then he finally said quietly, “I know.”
“Know what?”
“I know what you wrote down,” he said.
“You do?”
He nodded and I looked at him.
“You showed it to me,” he explained.
“I did?”
He nodded again.
“What did it say?”
He hesitated for a long moment before answering.
“You prayed for Laci.”
He didn’t go on, but I knew there was more.
“And?” I prompted.
“And for Amber,” he said reluctantly.
“And?” I asked again, still looking at him expectantly.
“And for me,” he finally admitted.
I held his gaze, eventually nodded, and then we left, keeping our faces toward the Wall as we’d been instructed.
As we backed away, I thought about the note that I had just left.
If nothing else, at least I was consistent.
The next morning I woke up to find Laci still sleeping. I looked at the clock and discovered that we still had almost an hour before we needed to get up, so I put my head back down on my pillow and snuggled closer, waking her up. I closed my eyes again.
“What are you smiling about?” I heard Laci ask me after a moment.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to suppress a grin. “I just really like waking up next to a strange woman every morning.”
She swatted me and I laughed.
“No, seriously,” I said, opening my eyes. “I was just wondering how mad you’d be if I told you that I was really, really excited that we were going to get to see the Wall today!”
“Pretty mad,” she said, glaring at me.
“Okay,” I smiled. “I’ll pretend I remember going.”
“David–” she said, unhappily.
“You know I’m just kidding,” I told her.
“I know,” she sighed, shaking her head, “but . . .”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” I promised. Then I assured her, “I remember everything.”
She seemed happier and gave me a small smile. I leaned forward and kissed her and when I pulled away she said softly, “I’m so glad we’re here.”
“Good,” I said, giving her a smile back.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked worriedly.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow. “I’m having a great time. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “It just seems like you’ve been kind of worried or something.”
“No,” I lied. “I’m not worried about anything.”
Actually ever since we’d gone to Rachel’s Tomb, I’d been constantly thinking about what Tanner had told me – about his theory as to why that place had meant so much to Laci.
That’s what women want, he’d said. They want someone to love them as much as Jacob loved Rachel. They want to feel that they’re the most important thing in the world to someone.
This probably shouldn’t have bothered me, but the fact was that Tanner and Laci had dated in college
And they hadn’t just dated, they had been in love.
And one time I had asked Laci what she’d seen in Tanner . . . why she’d ever loved him.
Because he loved me so much, she’d replied.
I had also asked her one time why she loved me, and do you know what she’d said?
Because God told me to.
Because He’d told her to. That was her reason.
Now I know that marriage is about a whole lot more than just love – it’s about honor and commitment and compromise.
And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t as if I didn’t think that Laci loved me. I had never worried about that.
But who was I kidding?
I worried that Laci didn’t realize how much I loved her. That she had no idea how much she meant to me. That she didn’t know how grateful I was to God that He had given her to me and that I thanked Him for her every day. I worried that she didn’t grasp that – without her – I would have been completely empty and that everything I’d ever had that was worthwhile, was because of her . . .
My children . . .
My relationship with God . . .
My life.
I worried that – deep down – Laci somehow felt that she had been gipped.
I looked at her now and ran a finger along her cheek. I brushed a strand of hair from her perfect face and stared into her beautiful eyes.
“You know how much I love you,” I asked. “Right?”
She nodded and smiled and I started to nod back, but then I stopped.
“No, you don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “You have no idea how much I love you because I’ve never told you.”
She looked at me questioningly for a moment and finally said, “Then tell me.”
And so I did.
We were late for breakfast.
~ ~ ~
AFTER WE RETURNED from Israel, the little blue pills became less and less affective and the periods of time that I couldn’t account for became greater and greater. More and more frequently, I would find myself in the middle of a conversation or an activity that I knew nothing about.
It didn’t take long, however, for me to become accustomed to that sensation and I learned that if I quietly observed for a moment or two, I could usually figure out what was going on.
Like when I found myself sitting on a cold, metal bleacher with Laci on one side and Meredith on the other, a blanket stretched across all of our laps.
When you have six children, you cannot have a true, “middle child”. Instead, Meredith shared this spot with her older sister, Lily. Meredith lived less than two hours from Cavendish with her husband, Danny, their four year old, Bianca, and toddler, Zoa.
I looked out onto what was clearly a soccer field, filled with young children, and searched until I saw a familiar face.
“Go, Bianca!” I yelled when the ball rolled toward her. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laci glance at me, surprised. I just looked back at her and gave her a smile.
Bianca gave the ball a swift kick and sent it in what appeared to be the wrong direction. The swarm of children surrounding the ball all moved as one toward the other end of the field. I looked around for a scoreboard, but didn’t see one.
“What’s the score again?” I asked Laci.
“No one’s scored yet,” she answered.
“Right,” I nodded. I also wanted to know what half it was, but I didn’t ask.
“Where’s Zoa?” I asked, turning to Meredith after a few more scoreless minutes.
“She has an ear infection,” she said, looking at me. “Danny stayed home with her.”
“Right,” I said again. I could tell from the way she said it that I was already supposed to know this, so I added, “I forgot.”
Meredith turned her attention back to the game, shouting Bianca’s name and clapping her hands. I watched her for a long moment and found myself remembering when I had first laid eyes on her, some twenty-five years earlier.
We’d been at the airport, having just gotten off of a plane from Mexico City. Meredith had been almost two at the time and she’d stood quietly, waiting for us to notice her. There had been a tiny ponytail in her hair – sticking straight up out of the top of her head like a wispy, blonde palm tree – and she’d held a raggedy, stuffed dog tightly in her arms. I remembered that she had come right to us when we’d knelt down not far from her and had spoken her name, keeping that dog clutched to her side (for about five more years), but agreeing to join us as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
I watched her now, her bright blue eyes following Bianca on the soccer field and a strand of golden hair blowing across her face in the gentle, cool breeze.
“Are you happy?” I asked her quietly.
She pulled her eyes away from
the game and looked at me.
“What?”
“Are you happy?” I asked again.
She stared at me for a moment and then nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m very happy.”
“Good,” I nodded back.
She gave me a little smile.
“I love you,” I told her.
“I love you too, Daddy,” she said, giving me a bigger smile and looping her arm through mine. She rested her head on my shoulder and squeezed my arm. A moment later – on the other side of me – Laci did the same thing.
I wondered briefly if we were spending the night with Meredith and her family or if we had only driven up for the day, but I kept quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment by admitting I didn’t know. Instead, I just sat between the two of them under the blanket, cheering for Bianca, and deciding that I would just wait and see.
I don’t know why I tried to cover up whenever I had no idea what was going on.
Deep down, I think I knew I wasn’t fooling anybody, but I guess it just felt good to pretend that everything was normal.
And so when Tanner stopped by after work one evening wearing a new, elk skin jacket, I didn’t let on that I had absolutely no recollection of giving to him.
~ ~ ~
WE WERE IN the car – just Laci and I.
“Where are we going?”
“To physical therapy.”
“I go to physical therapy?” I asked.
“Yes.” She sounded tired.
“Why?”
“To keep you healthy.”
“Yeah!” I said, pumping my fist into the air. “Let’s keep this body going for as long as we possibly can!”
She glanced over at me.
“David?” she asked, questioningly.
“Laci?” I said right back in the same tone.
“How are you?” she smiled at me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Apparently I’m going to physical therapy, so you tell me.”
“You’re fine.”
“Then why do I go to physical therapy?”
“Your insurance covers it,” she shrugged, “so I figured, why not? It’s good for you and you seem to like it.”
“I’ve been before?”
“Yeah.”
“How many times?”
“A few.”
I sighed.
“But I think I’ll cancel it for today . . . I’d rather spend time with you.”
“Okay,” I agreed. We rode along.
“I’m . . . I’m gone more now, aren’t I?” I asked after a minute.
“Yes,” she said quietly, nodding reluctantly.
“How often?”
She hesitated.
“Just tell me, Laci.”
“It’s kind of hard to tell, but . . . it seems like you’re really here and aware of what’s going on maybe . . . every couple of days.”
“When’s the last time I was . . . here?”
“I think yesterday morning,” she said, “but I’m not sure. Like I said, it’s hard to tell.”
“Why is it hard to tell?”
“Well,” she said, “it’s not as if some neon sign flashes across your forehead or something saying ‘I’m ba-ck!’.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, why do you think I was there yesterday morning? How could you tell?”
“Because you called me ‘Laci’.”
“That’s your name,” I pointed out.
“Yes,” she agreed, “but a lot of times you don’t know who I am. If you call me Laci, I pretty much know that it’s you.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh,” she answered and I thought for a moment.
“I’m going to use your name whenever I’m talking to you so you’ll know I’m really here,” I finally decided. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled, but I could tell she was skeptical that I’d be able to keep that promise.
“What happened yesterday morning?” I asked.
“Nothing too special,” she shrugged. “We had a load of firewood delivered and moved some boxes out of the garage. Do you remember that?”
“I don’t think so,” I admitted.
“Well,” she said, “what’s the last thing that you do remember?”
“Ummm,” I said, trying to think. “I don’t really know.”
“Do you remember when Lily and Meredith came?” she ventured.
I thought for a minute and then I remembered.
“Yes! And they brought the girls!”
“That’s right,” Laci smiled.
“And we went to Cross Lake and they fished off of the pier!”
“Exactly.”
“And Laney dropped her nachos in the water . . .”
“And she cried and cried,” Laci finished for me.
“And we didn’t catch any fish.”
Laci nodded and smiled.
“When was that?” I asked.
“Last week.”
“Okay,” I said.
So that’s what a week feels like.
We arrived at the hospital and Laci pulled into a parking spot.
“I’m gonna run in and tell them we’re not coming,” she said. “Stay right here.”
“Mentally or physically?”
“Both.”
I was still there when she got back.
“Hi, Laci,” I said, to let her know. She smiled at me and started the car. I looked at the buildings of the hospital complex. “What do I do in physical therapy?” I asked her as we drove out of the parking lot.
“You work out in the hot tub.”
“The hot tub?”
She nodded and smiled at me. “I figured you’d like it.”
“Well take me back!” I said. “I don’t wanna miss that!”
“They don’t let you just sit there,” she explained. “You have to actually work . . .”
“Are you in there with me?” I asked.
“No.”
“Well, never mind then,” I said. “I’d rather be with you.”
She smiled at me again.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“You didn’t eat much breakfast,” she told me.
I looked to see what time it was. My wrist was bare.
“Where’s my watch?” I asked her.
“Sometimes you don’t want to wear it.”
“Really?” I always wore my watch.
“Really.”
I looked at the clock on the dash.
“That’s ten-thirty in the morning, right?”
“Yes,” she laughed, “hence all the sunshine.”
“Doesn’t Hunter’s open at eleven?”
“You want a morning meatball sub, huh?”
“Unless you’d rather go somewhere else,” I said. “Why don’t we go to one of your favorites. Let’s go to Jenns. You like their salads.”
“No,” she said. “Any time you’re . . . here, I want to do whatever’s going to make you happy.”
“But, that’s not fair,” I argued. “That’s my only chance to make you happy!”
“Trust me, David,” she said, smiling at me. “You’re here with me. I’m happy.”
~ ~ ~
MY DINNER PLATE, full of my favorites, was sitting on the table, apparently untouched. I looked up to find Laci sitting next to me. Her left eye was bloody and partially swollen shut. The skin around it was tight and black.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!?”
“David?”
“Yes, it’s David. What happened to your eye, Laci?”
“Oh,” she said, reaching up and touching it, self-consciously. “It’s nothing, really. It was dark and the bathroom door wasn’t opened all the way and I just walked right into it, and bang. I’m okay. It’s nowhere near as bad as it looks.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked, reaching over and gently pushing her hair off of her face.
“I’m sure,” she smiled.
I looked a
t her uncertainly.
“Eat,” she urged. She seemed really happy that I was back.
Reluctantly I started to put my fork into my potatoes.
“Wait,” Laci said, taking the plate from me before I could have a bite. “That’s probably cold. Let me heat it up for you.”
“Why’s it cold?”
“I don’t think you like it very much,” she said, putting it in the microwave and punching a button.
“What do you mean? I love all that stuff.”
“You love it,” she agreed, “but your alter-ego is pretty picky.”
“My alter-ego?” I smiled at her.
“Yeah,” she smiled back. “That’s who shows up whenever you leave.”
“I act different?”
“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “You’re completely different. Kind of like an Anti-Dave or something.”
“An Anti-Dave?” I laughed.
“Yeah.”
“What’s Anti-Dave like?”
“Hmmm,” she said, sitting back down. “Where do I start?”
“What do I like to eat?”
“High-fat, high-sugary foods . . . generally anything that’s bad for you.”
“I’ve always liked that stuff,” I argued.
“Yeah,” she admitted, “but at least you’ll eat good stuff too. I’m having a hard time convincing Anti-Dave to eat anything that’s nutritious.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“I want to take good care of you,” she said in a quiet voice.
“I know you do,” I said. “And you are taking good care of me, but if I die because I overdose on potato chips and ice cream, that won’t be such a bad way for me to go, will it?”
She tilted her head at me and the microwave beeped.
“But, if it’ll make you feel better, Regular Dave will eat good right now. Whip me up a couple of Brussels sprouts and I’ll even try to choke those down.”
She smiled at me and got up, took my plate out of the microwave, and then set it down in front of me.
“So what else is different about Anti-Dave?” I asked, putting my napkin in my lap. “What do I do?”
