1
Albert loosened his tie as he drove in silence. Back to the big empty house he thought, just more silence there too. That’s all I’ve had for a while, and that’s all I’ve got left. Silence and emptiness.
He looked out the window at the cloudless sky and leaves with just a touch of gold. How could he go on alone? He wasn’t afraid to be by himself, but after so much time you got used to someone else being there. Damn it! Why her first? Then again, would he have wanted Linda to face the rest of her life alone if he had died first? He decided he didn’t like that idea at all. This was the lesser of two evils then, but not by much. And boy how did it sting.
And now here came the anger again, another of the endless waves of it. Where’s the justice in all this? He believed in God, and had done his best to convince himself that there was a reason for her death, but what was it? He’d lived as a good Catholic. He’d done his best as both husband and father. What sin had he committed to deserve this? He tried to rationalize it, but emotions always took over, and he felt his heart pound in his chest. He needed to get out of the car now.
Albert pulled the car over, put his face in his hands, and cried. It was his first cry since her death. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to cry at all – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried – but now that it came, he couldn’t control it. Nor did he want to. It felt good in a way he couldn’t explain, and he felt a little guilt about it, but still….it felt good. He could still feel the anger inside, anger with no direction and every direction. The doctors, the insurance company, the government, scientist, the paperboy, everyone was a target. images of people and places flashed though his head. He could feel the anger begin to consume him. And still he cried.
“God,” he said in between fits of tears, “before I say something I might regret, I just want to let you know that I’m not a big fan of yours right now. I don’t want any help from you, I don’t want forgiveness for what I’m about to say. I just want to be left alone.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, not did he trust himself not to say something he might really regret, so he simply sad and cried.
Soon his crying slowed, his emotion spent for now. Right next to the anger in his chest he felt the pain for Linda and it burned him. His shoulders ached from tension. He wiped his face with his handkerchief, then he looked around to see where he had pulled over.
Outside the windshield Albert saw an abandoned gas station. The pumps were still there, mute soldiers, old and decrepit, their war long over. Somewhat like myself he thought, and he smiled. He laughed silently, a few tears falling, the worst of it past for now. He certainly felt better, good even.
Albert got out and looked up and down the road, looking for anything familiar, and when he finally realized where he had to lean against the car, a memory long since forgotten called up from the banks of his mind. Could he really be where he thought he was? That was so long ago though, but a lot had changed between then and now. Could it be? there was only one way to find out.
Albert headed around the front of the car and walked towards the rear of the station. He felt a touch nervous as he walked, the memory bringing forth an excitement like an old treasure rediscovered in the corner of the attic. What would he do if this was the place? he asked himself, and was not surprised to find he already knew the answer.
he rounded the back corner of the building and stopped. Running behind the building parallel to the road was an old set of railroad tracks. He looked at them for a minute before walking up to them, stopping just at the edge of a railroad tie.
This was the place. He was sure of it.
He looked up and down the railroad track. Still looked pretty clear after all these years. Some grass growing up between the ties, but the path still ran true in both sides. He thought back again, calling up the memory to try and remember which way he wanted to go, and when he remembered he nodded in satisfaction before turning left and walking down the tracks, not sparing a second to think about his dead wife, God, or his car.
2
At first Albert kept his eyes down as he walked, the footing unsure, until he realized he’d probably have a better go at it if he walked on the track itself. He soon grew accustomed to the spacing of the ties, and once he did he looked around as he walked. The sounds of nearby traffic were fading as the track began a slow right-hand bend. He tried to take everything in around him – what the air smelled like, the colors, the sounds – and soon it began to blend in with his memory of the area.
I do believe I’m time traveling he thought, and he smiled again.
He made himself one ironclad rule: no leaving the tracks for any reason. It may be an impulse that brought him out here, but there was no need to make it into an adventure. He was too old for that, not to mention the thought of getting lost in the forest frightened him.
Soon the bend straightened out and the land began to slope down. Not too much further he thought. All sounds of traffic were gone now. He stopped and thought about what he was doing. Should he head back? He turned around and looked at how far he’d come so far. No, it was only another minute or two, and he was still on the tracks, so he turned back around and walked on.
Albert stretched his hands out, his hands brushing up against maple leaves, green for the most part with the occasional yellow or orange. He pulled one off and brought it to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Something satisfying about that smell for sure, something that made him feel like a comforted child, so he kept the leaf, twirling it by them stem as he walked on.
He looked ahead and could see where the slope flattened out, and his heart leapt at the sight. Down there, just past the patch of wildflowers. That’s where it should be. He picked up the pace, anxious now that the end was in sight. He even thought he could see it settled in the tall grass to the left of the tracks.
As he got nearer, he became more and more certain that he’d found what he came out here to find, and when he reached the part of the tracks that was right in front of it he broke his one ironclad rule and walked into the grass where the old wooden platform still stood. It was smaller than he remembered it, but he’d been a kid back then. The wood was in poor condition, broken and splintered, faded after half a century of exposure to the elements, but it was still here. Now that he was here though, he didn’t know what he should do, so he did the first thing that came to mind – he found a sturdy part of platform to sit down on and let the memory fully wash over him.
3
Albie sat on the wooden platform, bored out of his mind. He couldn’t understand why his parents had dragged him out here, nor would they tell him why. He knew stupid old Gordon Fillbert was probably hitting home run after home run without him on the mound. He was the only one that could get him out, and without him his team was probably getting clobbered. And why wear his Sunday clothes too? On a Wednesday. In the middle of August. When he should be playing stickball and swimming in the quarry down on Fawcett Street. And not have to deal with such things as parents until the call came for supper.
Albie sighed, chin in his hands, elbows on his thighs. His thoughts were two and a half miles away with a ball and glove.
“Albie,” a voice said. He turned to face his father, thirty-two and with sharp red veins around his nose and cheeks. “I expect you to be on your best behavior here.” His father was standing on the ground, and so when he leaned in close they were face to face, and Albie could smell his father’s drink as he spoke. “Now I know you’d rather be elsewhere, pursuing such activities as a young lad should on a fine summer day. But,” he said, and with that but he sent a second and more potent blast that made Albie’s eyes water, “your mother and I insisted that you see this. We both believe you will not be disappointed.” His father backed off, folding his hands behind his back. “Think of this as your way of being witness to history. Some day you may even thank us for dragging you along.” Satisfied, his father nodded once and went of to stand at his wife’s side.
Albie looked up in the sky and felt exactly like the clouds looked.
He stood up and thought about how long it would take him to get back to Fawcett Street, and if he could get away unnoticed, when he felt the ground begin to tremble. Just a little, but it was enough to catch his attention. What was that? And not only was it still shaking, but it was getting stronger too. He looked around, but nobody seemed alarmed. In fact, every one looked like they were excited about what was going on. He could hear the buzz of the small crowd, but it was soon drowned out by the sound of the ground vibrating. On the corner of the platform the lamppost shook visibly.
Albie looked at his parents who were still side by side. His father had taken his mother’s hand, placing it over his. Both were looking off in the distance to the left, and so was everyone else. Albie turned to look in the same direction, down a newly cut path through the trees. He couldn’t see anything, but he could definitely feel and hear something. Something that was apparently coming from the new path. Everyone else was now facing left, so he waited with them, feeling nervous and excited. What could be coming with such force? His mind raced with possibilities, conjuring up all sorts of fantastical images.
Out of the corner of his eye Albie caught his father looking at him. His father’s eyes were soft for the first time in a long time, and there was a hint of a smile underneath his mustache as well. It was such an unusual expression for his father, such a kind and loving expression, that Albie completely forgot about what was going on for the moment and studied his father’s face.
Until smoke started to plume over the treetops. The crowd gave out a pleasant sigh. Albie watched the thick black smoke billow up in great puffs, and he could hear each puff which sounded like a winded dog after a hard chase. Then came the whistle, a long pleasant honk that made him cover his ears.
“Father!” Albie shouted, but the noise was so loud now that he barely heard it himself. He was about to shout again when he caught movement down the path, and his eyes widened as off in the distance a train slowly came into view.
4
Albert smiled. If was the first time he’d thought about the train in years, decades even. It was the first train he’d ever seen, and it overwhelmed his imagination with its size and ferocity. it had first scared then fascinated him. It had been wonderful. His father had been right. It certainly was something memorable.
After the train came into view he had looked over at his parents. His mother was still fixed on the train, but his father was looking back at him again, this time a smile of satisfaction on his face. He looked happy that his son was enjoying the experience.
Albert looked down. His shoes and pants were sprinkled with blades of grass and dandelion seeds. He listened for sounds. All he could hear was the breeze through the treetops, some birds, and a cricket or two. Nothing else, and definitely no sounds of civilization. All there was out here was this rotten platform…and the railroad tracks. He looked off to the left. Did he know where the tracks led to that way? He thought he did, so the question was, continue on or head back to his car? And if he went back to his car, then what?
That decided the matter. He eased himself off the platform and turned left, falling back into the rhythm from before. Step up on the tie, step down, step up, step down, and on he went.
The tracks followed a fairly straight path with a left turn a bit further down. After he made the turn there ran a series of old telephone poles on the right side of the track, still upright but badly beaten by the elements. What else could he see? Nothing, at least nothing out of the ordinary out here in the forest, like a gas station or an apartment complex or a fast food restaurant. He breathed deeply. No smells of car exhaust or trash. Just clean air, and he found it refreshing.
The sun stood straight up in the sky now, dimmed by some thin clouds, but an October sun had much less potency than a July sun, so it was warm, not hot. It was enough though to make Albert sweat as he walked, which he did, occasionally losing his rhythm as he caught hold of another memory. The walk was proving to be a good distraction. He hadn’t thought of his wife or his anger in what, twenty minutes? Forty even? Certainly the longest stretch since Linda had first been declared terminal.
The thought of Linda took some of the joy from his mood, gloom settling over him like an old bathrobe. He still didn’t feel as bad as before though, and that was good. What was it about being out her that had helped him the most he wondered. Was it the air? The memory of his parents and the train? And then he realized it didn’t really matter what it was. He was just happy to feel better period. Enough to at least want to get out of bed tomorrow.
He tried to think another good memory, but nothing came to mind. It’s not as if there were no other good memories, but it was hard to think of something good without thinking of Linda at the same time.
Poor Albert he thought, which surprised him a little, for it was not a thought with good intentions. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re not the one who’s dead. That thought stopped him in his tracks. Where had that thought come from? Hell, Linda had died less than three days ago. Wasn’t he allowed some sort of mourning period after forty-one years of marriage? Absolutely. So the question remained, where had that though come from? It sounded like something Linda would have said to him. In fact, hadn’t the voice inside his head sounded like Linda as well? Maybe it did. It certainly had her tone. Not that Linda had ever been insensitive to him. She just held a more pragmatic view of the world, and it usually came out in moments he least expected it. There were time when you’d expect sensitivity from her only to be handed a seemingly cold, unbiased view of the situation, something he never got completely used to.
Albert walked on, the sun now at his back, and thought about Linda.
5
Al entered the phone booth and picked up the receiver. He tried to think of what he should say while his fingers did their own thing of putting change in the slot and then dialing. One ring, then a second, and still his mind raced for words.
He heard a brief clatter on the other end as Linda fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
Al still didn’t know what to say. “Linda,” he said, and she must’ve heard something in his voice because she started right in.
“Oh God Al, what is it? Is something wrong?”
“I um,” he said, thinking, why is it always so hard to talk to my wife? He closed his eyes and bit the proverbial bullet. “I lost my job Linda.” He paused a second. “I got fired half an hour ago.”
No response from the other end. Al opened his eyes and looked at the receiver in his hand. He put it back to his ear and said, “Hello?”
“I’m here,” Linda said, and now her voice sounded different. The worry was gone, replaced by a flat, unemotional tone.
“Yeah, well, that’s it,” he said. “I’m standing out here on Franklin Street at a pay phone with a box under my arm containing everything I could carry out in it.” Now that he’d started, the words flowed from him. “Everything that security would let me carry out that is. Even though I was getting fired after how many years? And they treat me like I was gonna rob the place or something, steal their precious company secrets or, I don’t know what, walk out with an extra box of pens or an automatic pencil sharpener or something stupid. Did they forget what I meant to them, how I was there to get the ball rolling and help them go from nothing to…everything? And then they say, ‘Sorry Al, we’re downsizing and well, here’s a severance package, take it or leave it but at the very least leave, we don’t care either way.’ It’s Werner’s son, I know it is, doesn’t know a thing about loyalty. And to escort me out like I was caught trespassing? In front of all my friends? What the hell is that?”
Al heard nothing from the other end. He felt the blood pounding in his head and thought about a cigarette for the first time in years. He was lost in thought when Linda said, “Feel better now?”
“No, why would I feel better? I just got fucking fired and embarrassed? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”
“Yes, I heard you.” So patient that he wanted to hang up one her. Where was the sympathy he thought. “What I meant to ask was if you’ve gotten it all out of your system yet.”
“All of what? My anger? Not even close! If they think – “
“Well,” she said, cutting in, “when you think you have and you’re ready to talk and listen, call me back or just come home. Just remember, you’re fifty-two, so try and act like it, okay?”
Al felt his anger rise up a notch. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was the person on the other end actually his wife? It sounded like her, but what the hell was coming out of her mouth? How about just a simple ‘I’m sorry’? “Yeah well, I guess I’ll see you at home then at some point.”
“Take your time,” she said, as if he’d called to say he was stuck in traffic. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Al didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust himself to open his mouth. After a second or two of silence Linda said, “Goodbye then,” and hung up.
Al stared at the receiver again, then hung up the phone once it started beeping at him. Once the phone was back in the cradle, he felt his anger drain from him. Now he felt tired and depressed, weary. What to do now? He opened the phone booth door and walked towards the subway, wondering what the hell just happened.
Two hours later Al opened his front door. He found Linda in the living room, sitting with her legs tucked underneath her reading the paper. She looked up at him from over the top of the paper.
“Stopped off for a beer,” Al said. He waited to see if she would say anything. When she didn’t, he went on. “I found some homeless guy on the street and gave him my box from work. Probably get more use out of that stuff than I will.”
Linda put the paper down. “Would you like to talk or would you like dinner first?”
“What did you make?” he said. Linda didn’t answer. He sighed. “Dinner please.”
Linda got up and went into the kitchen. He followed behind her, a quick stop off at the fridge for a drink before sitting at the table. Linda pulled a plate from the oven and took the tinfoil off. She put it down in front of Al, then made her way back into the living room. Al ate by himself. He wondered what she was going to say.
After his dinner he went back into the living room. Linda sat, cigarette in hand, her gaze out the front window. He sat next to her on the couch. She turned and faced him.
Al thought he would be able to wait until she spoke first, but instead said, “You know, when I called you this afternoon I was looking for sympathy, not a lecture.”
“You think that’s what you got? A lecture?”
“Well, no. But I did at least expect some compassion.” He looked at her for any type of body language that would give her thoughts away, but she only moved her hand to her mouth, then back to the arm rest again. “Just something from you to make me feel better. Comfort me. I mean here I am out of a job, the only job I’ve ever had, the job that paid for this house and put Danny through school. The job…the job we were depending on to carry us into retirement. And now what? What do we do now?” AL could feel the tears coming, but he held them in check. If she could remain emotionless then so could he. “Not to mention the same company I helped build for twenty-seven years just put me out on my ass. No, not to mention that. They say they’re downsizing, and what does that mean? It means they’re upsizing their own salaries is what. But why should I be surprised? Loyalty doesn’t exist any more. I’m old, past my prime. I can’t do good work any more, right? Not up with today’s technology.” He paused for a second. “So, who’s going to hire me now? Do you know how impossible it will be for me to get a job? Why not stick a knife through my heart and end it all now? I’m all done.” He slumped back against the couch.
He looked up at Linda who still hadn’t moved, still stared at him, the cigarette in her hand now ash. She blinked, reassuring him that she was in fact still alive (no need for sarcasm now he thought) and ground her butt in an ashtray.
She turned back to him and said, “Now are you done feeling sorry about yourself?”
Al had been expecting something like this, but her words still stung. He was in no mood to argue the point though, so he nodded his assent.
“I don’t believe you,” Linda said, “but at least you look like you’re ready to listen.” She settled into the couch, her knee now touching his leg. “Haven’t we had a good life together? And I don’t mean just our relationship. I mean everything. Don’t we live a good life like we always have? Haven’t we been given everything we’ve needed and then some?” He didn’t respond, nor did she expect him to. He was listening. “I don’t give a shit about your job.” He was surprised at her language, but kept quiet. “I really don’t. You’re the man of the house, and I know that’s important to you, and your job may have enabled us to build the life we have, but it was only a building block, not the fuel that kept us going. So maybe you need to ask yourself what’s important to you. Your job?” She let that sink in for a second. “What do you think is important to me?”
Linda rose and kissed Al on the forehead before gong back to the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts, the aftertaste of dinner, and other things still fresh with him.
6
Albert realized he was still walking. He stopped, taking a moment to see where he was. The railroad still traveled straight ahead of him, the land stayed level as far as he could see. He looked behind and was surprised to see the bend after the platform was almost a football field away. Had he walked all this way on autopilot, lost in his thoughts?
He thought maybe now was a good time to head back. Sure, out here he felt a peace inside he hadn’t felt in Lord knows how long, but the reality was that he was an old man, and a slip and fall, a broken leg, or even a twisted ankle might be the end of him. Then again, there was that little twinkle in his mind that said he knew where the tracks ended up and that it wasn’t that much further. He stretched while he weighed the options, his legs already sore from today’s exercise.
Then he thought of Linda again and, smiling, decided to continue on.
7
Twenty minutes later Albert was beginning to tire. He was now of the opinion that maybe he’d made the wrong decision. At least if he’d turned back when he first thought about it he’d know how far it was to his car or even civilization. What had he been thinking? Even though the sun was on the descent he could feel the back of his shirt was soaked. Where was the sense in pushing forward? Where was the common sense in that decision? He could still turn back. The return trip was longer now, but it was at least a known journey.
He listened for Linda’s voice inside his head to see if she had any helpful thoughts. He’d decided that if his thoughts came out in Linda’s voice then he was all right with that. She could live on in his head at least. She was his voice of reason, the one who made him realize that he still had what it took to get a job at fifty-two, that he still had something to contribute professionally, but what she didn’t know…
What she didn’t know, what he had never told her, was that he had done it all for her.
Albert sighed. So many unspoken thoughts over the years. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was the time to make a decision, and Linda’s voice inside his head was quiet on the subject. Going back would be a good hour, going forward could be less. If only he’d thought to bring some water too.
Up ahead and to the right he heard a series of loud pops, scattering the birds from the treetops. He turned and looked but couldn’t see anything. After the noise died down he thought he could hear…laughter. He wasn’t sure, but yeah, could be someone laughing. If that was the case, then he was pretty close to where he thought he’d end up.
Good enough then. He turned and focused on the track ahead, hoping the end wasn’t too far away.
8
After another seventy yards or so, the track curved to the right, and Albert picked up the pace. He was almost certain now what lay beyond the bend, though still puzzled about the laughing and popping he’d heard. Then he heard the pop-pop-pop again, much closer now, the birds once again taking to the air at the sound. He stopped and listened, and now he was sure he heard laughter. Children’s laughter in fact, though maybe only a few of them. The popping might be fireworks too, but it was tough to tell.
He picked up the pace now, keeping his eyes on the tree line, waiting to see what would appear around the bend. After another minute he saw what he was looking for and smiled. Up ahead the tracks straightened out and dipped down as they headed right through a hill. He was about twenty yards away from the tunnel when he heard the laughter again.
Go on, Linda’s voice said, which was all he needed to head in.
9
Once Albert entered in he stepped off the tracks and held his arm out to guide himself along the wall. The light from behind was dim and at one point almost gone when he spotted the pinprick of light up ahead, so he kept on.
He slowed as he reached the end of the tunnel to let his eyes readjust. Once they had, he looked around and nodded once. He had ended up exactly where he thought he would.
This wasn’t the cemetery his wife was buried in, but he was familiar with it. The train tunnel into the graveyard was a rite of passage for any kid growing up in the area, and any kid who wanted to prove he was tough had to make the walk through the tunnel at night. His walk had been uneventful as far as he could remember, but there were others who had not been so lucky. Some kids had things thrown at them in the dark – water balloons, tennis balls, even rocks for one kid everyone hated – and of course there was the local legend of Tommy Newhauser who had supposedly gone into the tunnel and was never seen again…
God, what memories! He shook his head and looked around.
In front of him the railroad track rose back up to ground level and continued straight on through the middle of the cemetery. To the sides were rows of tombstones amidst grass so green it was almost blue.
Movement from his left caught his eye. He turned to see three kids sprint in one direction while an older man, the father Albert thought, lit something in his hand and tossed it in the other direction, running right after the kids as he did so. Albert could hear the hiss of the wick as the man caught up to the smallest child, a little girl, and grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder while still running. The little girl squealed, lost in the clatter of the fireworks. Once the popping started, the dad with the girl and the two boys in front all fell to the ground laughing, the father wrestling with all the kids at once.
Albert smiled, curious at what brought this scene on. He walked towards the group where the kids were getting up off the ground, their laughter slow to die. The girl noticed him coming and said, “Hi mister!” This got the attention of the father and boys who looked around to see who she was talking to. The father stood, looking at Albert, caution in his stance.
“Hi,” said Albert, stopping well short of the group. “You guys….” What did he want to say here? “You guys look like a great family.”
“Where did you come from?” the girl said.
“Well, I came through the tunnel,” Albert said, pointing behind him.
The two boys started their own dialogue between them about the prospect and potential of what was in the tunnel while the girl said, “Do you live in there?”
“Honey,” the father said, scooping her up. He looked at Albert and said, “He doesn’t live in there. Don’t be silly.”
“That’s right,” Albert said. “I live in a house just like you do.”
“We live in a condo,” she said, feeling the unfamiliar word out.
“All right Maggie – ” the father said.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” Albert said to the father, cutting in. “I was just out for a walk, you see? Trying to clear my thoughts.”
“I understand,” the father said. “Completely. We’re visiting their mommy. Today’s her birthday.”
Behind the father Albert saw a tombstone decorated with flowers and drawings held on by tape. The sight of it moved something inside him, and Albert had to fight back tears.
“Sorry, don’t mean to cry in front of you,” Albert said, rubbing his eyes. “This is all new to me. Last week…” he said, his voice trailing off.
“Did your mommy die too mister?” Maggie said.
“Yes she did,” Albert said.
“It’s okay,” Maggie said. “My dad cries too.”
The father put Maggie down. “Run along to your brothers,” he said, and off she went to mediate the boys’ ongoing argument on whether there was a troll or not living in the tunnel.
The father watched her go, then turned back to Albert. “This is my wife’s second birthday since she died, but it’s been almost three years since she passed. We’ve come every year so far. We make it into a party, to give the kids happy memories, you know? I think it’s important for them since they probably won’t remember her at all when they’re older.” Albert started crying again. He couldn’t help it. The father’s face softened, and Albert knew that here was someone who shared his pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Albert said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
The father looked at Albert a minute before he said, “If I might offer you some advice, please, stop apologizing. You’re asking to be forgiven for being human. And don’t apologize for being embarrassed either. What you’ll find – ”
“Dad Dad Dad!” one of the boys said as they both ran up to the father. “There’s a frog in the tunnel!” he said.
“Can we keep it?” said the other.
The father smiled at his sons. “Let’s go check it out. See if we got a new house pet, okay? Come on Princess!” he said to Maggie. He turned back to Albert and shrugged his shoulders, smiling, before heading off to the tunnel, off in search of the frog that dared enter the cave of the Troll Princess. And what would the outcome be? Would they be strong and brave enough to banish the foul beast? Or would they form some sort of alliance, Troll Princess and Frog, and set out to conquer the world, or at least the two mean Troll Princes?
Albert walked over to the tombstone and sat down next to it. The ground sloped slightly downward so he propped his elbows on his knees. He felt the sun filter through the treetops on his head as he looked at the engraving. He read the name and the years, born and died. He nodded, thoughtful. So young.
Albert turned and watched the family explore the tunnel entrance, the father down on his hands and knees. He sat and watched and thought about Linda again.
10
Al walked through the automatic doors, a book under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He recognized the girl at the front desk and smiled at her. The girl smiled back as he walked past, heading towards the elevator.
In Room 415 Linda lay sleeping, the sheet pulled up waist-high. Equipment beeped and hissed with regularity, the rhythm a reassurance that, even though this was a hospital, everything for the time being was all right.
Al settled down into the chair by the bed (my chair he thought) and took Linda’s hand. He squeezed it. No response from Linda, but her hand was still warm, which was also in its own way reassuring. He let go of her hand, placing it back by her side, and sat back in the chair. He opened the book to the marked page, put on his reading glasses, and started to read out loud with a slow, steady, quiet pace.
During visitor hours the halls were always busy, and today was no exception. Nurses, patients, visitors, doctors, janitors, all whisked by with unseen purpose. No one came into Room 415 as Al sat and read, which would have only made him nervous anyway.
Linda had been sleeping more and more this week. Tuesday she hadn’t been awake the entire time he was here. Each day as Al arrived he became more and more anxious, hoping for at least an hour of awake time.
Outside shadows lengthened and light faded. He got up for a cup of coffee once, another two times to use the bathroom. The second time he came back he noticed Linda’s position had changed, but he lost hope after he found out that a nurse had come in and moved her. Can’t let her sit in one position for too long a nurse had told her. Not good for the body. Helps blood circulation to move her around. Al nodded as if this were really helping her while inside he screamed.
By the end of his time for the day Al had managed a good seventy pages. He closed the book and rubbed his eyes, trying to keep himself calm. Who was there to get mad at anyway? This was nobody’s fault, right? It’s just life someone said to him. The doctors assured him she wasn’t in any pain.
Ah, who was he kidding? With each excuse the whole bunch of ‘em sounded more and more hollow. The thing that really burned him up though was not that Linda was ill – okay, dying if you must – but that he felt powerless. And the anger he felt over that told him there had to be someone or something to blame. But who or what? Himself? Her malfunctioning body? The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that the only one to blame was God. And why not? Why else would Linda be sick if not God? Hadn’t she been the one with faith? So why not him instead of her?
Al cracked open a roll of antacids and chewed on a couple as he looked out the window. He wondered if it was possible to dive from eating too many of them. Maybe he would be the first. He could see the newspaper now. Headline: Old Man Dies From Rolaids Excess – Byline: Doctors Think Problem Caused By Broken Heart. He laughed at the thought. No, he didn’t feel lucky enough to get off that easy. For whatever reason God wanted to punish him by killing her first. He’d always seen himself as the Man of the House – the breadwinner who took care of things, but living alone for the last few weeks made him realize how much Linda actually did around the house, things he had never considered before. Stuff he had apparently thought a Man shouldn’t have to take care of. But now that he was by himself…
He sighed, putting the book down. It was late now, far too late to start thinking about everything again otherwise he’d end up with another night with little to no sleep. He thought about making the drive home and didn’t like the idea of it at all. Well, he may pay for it in the morning, but maybe he should stay here for the night. Maybe she’ll wake up at some point and I can at least talk to her for a bit. Is that too much to ask for God? he thought.
Danny said he should take better care of himself, try and relax a little. What did he know? Let Jeanine pass away in front of his eyes, see what he had to say then. He was doing what he thought a Man should do. Stand by his wife. His time was Linda was short, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.
Al clicked the light off, the room still dim from the hall lights. He walked to the closet and rook a blanket and pillow from the shelf. He settled into the chair and closed his eyes, hoping he would wake if she did.
During the night, the nurses came and went to check on Linda, being sure not to disturb her husband. The beeps and hisses kept their rhythm all night, providing a near perfect backdrop for a decent night’s sleep.
11
Albert laid back on the grass between two tombstones, his eyes closed, enjoying the last of the sun before it tucked behind the trees. He listened to the family set up their picnic lunch. It seemed a lifetime ago now since he’d spent almost every waking moment in the hospital. How angry he’d been after she’d finally passed on. And what good had the anger done him?
He thought about the last month, trying to make any sense of it if he could. He tried to step out of his normal mode of thinking and look at the bigger picture, not just what was going on in his world. He thought about Linda and how she’d lived her life. What had given her such faith? She had lived a good life, and she was always happy. Was that what she got for her faith?
“Hey mister.”
Albert opened his eyes. Maggie stood in front of him, holding out a plate for him. “We had some extra pie so we wanted you to have some.”
Albert reached out and took the plate. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Hope it makes you feel better. Bye!” Maggie ran back to the blanket. The father watched her come back and caught Al’s gaze. He raised his plate of food in salute.
Albert returned the gesture before digging in. He chewed on a bite of cold apple pie which tasted like heaven. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry! It was gone in five bites. He put the plate down by his side and sat back again. He felt better now. No, he actually felt good. He felt the worst of it might be over. He was still hurting over Linda, no doubt, and he was sure to have some bad days, but from this point on he could start to heal if he wanted to, which he did. He watched the family enjoy their picnic and thought about his own granddaughter who hadn’t seem much of him lately. What better place to start than with his own family?
Albert inhaled the afternoon air and thought about Linda’s words on the day he got fired, and he realized that was good advice.
Hey God, he thought, I think you and I have some talking to do.
