Rolling Stones

In the spring time a cemetery has green grass, flowers and budding trees to offset the gloomy landscape. In December the spindly trees and dead grass are as cold as the tenants here. Mattie pulled her jacket tight against the steady cold wind. She’d absentmindedly left her gloves in the car. She blew hot breath into her cupped hands to warm them. She walked past the headstones, careful not to walk on the graves. Superstitious or respectful, it was an old habit that hadn’t changed since she was a little girl. Some things didn’t change with age.

At forty five, Mattie was still a looker. She had a pretty, girl next door face and a nice figure. She’d cut her smokes down to a couple a week, and been on the wagon for four years now. She hit the gym twice a week. It was a struggle, but she was happy with the results. It made her feel good about herself if she looked good. Vanity was, at least in her opinion, the least of her problems.

She stopped when she saw the old willow tree. As much as she loved the tree in the warm seasons, she hated it as much in the dead of winter. It reminded her of a horror movie setting. A wrought iron bench sat underneath the ugly branches. She walked over and sat down.

The headstone was a simple affair. His name, birth and death date, and one simple sentence. She smiled, despite the cold and gloom. Even in death, her Dad could still make her smile. Jack Noonan was special like that. The smile faded only a little as she closed her eyes and sighed just a bit. She conjured up his face in her mind. She thought of his irrepressible grin, his big ole hands, and his laugh. God, how she missed his laugh. The scent of Old Spice lingered on the memory before she reopened her eyes. There he was, sitting on the rough stone that marked his grave. Mattie felt her eyes begin to water. Must be the cold wind.

“Don’t you start bawlin’, Kiddo, or I’ll just leave. I ain’t here for that. You know that. Besides, you’ll make your makeup run black rivers if you don’t stop. Very ugly look, ya know.” His baritone gravel filled voice spoke to the little girl inside of her. She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

“That’s better, Kiddo.” He hopped off the stone and ambled over to her and held out his hand, expectantly. Mattie reached into her pants pocket and retrieved the old coin and placed it in her dads hand.

“ Ahh…” he said. He closed his hand around the 1880 Morgan dollar. The big coin was smothered quickly in his paw. He clenched his fist, reveling in the feel of it, before he held it up to his eyes.

“The old girl’s getting smoother. Losing the points of her crown a bit since last year. Been tough, Kiddo?” He flicked the coin once into the air, catching it without even looking.

Mattie shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets. The air was even colder since Daddy Jack showed up. It was an uncomfortable reminder that she was talking to a dead man. Her mind wandered for a minute, wondering if she was crazy. Probably, she concluded.

“It’s been a hell of a year, Pops. Still clean, still sober. Still working my ass off to keep the lights on in that old drafty house. I’m tired, Pops. More mentally than physically. How did you do it, Pops? I just don’t see me making another twenty years like this.” The furrows between her eyes showed as she squinted slightly.

“Don’t look so constipated, girl. At least you ain’t dead.” The short laugh he spit out made her spine tingle, but she grinned a little in spite of it.

“I mean it, Pops. I get so frustrated. So exhausted. It gets so monotonous, like waiting at the railroad crossing and the train’s a million miles long. And you’re always late for work.” A pack of Pall Malls appeared from the inside pocket of her jacket. She pulled one out and put it between her lips. She pulled another out and offered it over to Jack. His eyes lit up as he gently took it from her. He ran it under his nose, smelling the sweet tobacco like a cigar aficionado with a fine Cuban. She reached in again and out came a battered old zippo. Jack stepped over, took the lighter and smoothly lit the cigarette. Then he cupped it and lit Mattie’s. He looked at the zippo one last time, then handed it back to his daughter. She inhaled deeply, letting the tobacco hit her lungs. It made her head light, it had been so long since her last smoke. In a good way.

“Mattie, what do you expect from life?” he said. He took a drag, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I just….I don’t know.” her words were as lost as she was.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, how ya gonna know when you’re there? Really, Kiddo. It ain’t rocket science. Figure it out. Use your head. Your smarter than this.” His impatience was obvious.

“Steve left me. I know what you thought about him, but I loved him dad. I did. Now everything just feels….bland. Tasteless. I don’t know how you did it, Pops. I seriously don’t.” The cigarette was half smoked by now. She almost wished she smoked more at times like this.

“What I did, I did outta love. And FOR love, Kiddo. Your mom, and you kids, was all I ever wanted in this world. To be with you. To make you safe. To see you all happy. That’s what made my life worth while. It was all I lived for. Till I didn’t have any of it any more.” His sadness crept into her heart as he said that last sentence. The shared memories of loss and pain wilted both of their souls like a dying rose.

“Steve was …” he began, but stopped himself.

“Doesn’t really matter what he was, he’s gone. Either you deal with it, or it’ll deal with you. We both know it takes two to tango, Kiddo. It ain’t like he’s dead or somethin.” He took a long, last drag from the Pall Mall and flicked it away, onto a neighbors grave, without a second thought.

“You know what I always say. Where there’s life, there’s hope. Lotsa times, girl, hope is all you’re gonna get. I’m gonna ask you again, Mattie Dear. What do you want outta life?” He stood there, arms crossed, waiting.

She snubbed out the cigarette. The bad taste in her mouth as stale as her mood right now.

“True love.” Her words lacked conviction. She’d heard those words from her dad all her life. From her lips, however, they felt like a lie.

“Damn skippy, Kiddo!” he exclaimed. “But you don’t believe it. You know it, in your head. Your heart, my darlin, Your heart ain’t in it. You keep trying to do the math on it, and it don’t add up. I’m telling you, it never will. You gotta believe, Kiddo.”

She stood up from the bench. Her toes were cold. Her joints were getting stiff. She reached into her jacket for the other item she’d brought. A pint of cheap vodka. She held it out to him without breaking the seal. There was joy in his eyes as he took it from her. He cracked it open and held the freshly opened bottle under his nose, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply.

“Mercy me, Kiddo. Even this cheap shit smells like roses. Been how long, did you say?”

“Pops, you know perfectly well that today makes four years. I was a drunk for a lot more. Sober years seem so long sometimes. Doesn’t seem right.” She sighed.

Jack alternated between smelling the vodka and splashing a little on his own grave. He watched the driblets fall, as if he were a child burning ants with a magnifying glass.

“I do miss my vodka, Kiddo. The smell. The taste. The shiver. The cloud of pleasantness before it goes too far. Too bad it always went too far, eh?”

It wasn’t a question as much as a fact. Mattie had watched her pops drink himself into oblivion far more times than she wanted to remember. She’d been plastered through a lot of those occasions herself. Jack splashed the vodka like Holy Water as he walked around the grave. There was only a swallow left when he was done. He smiled at Mattie and held out the bottle until it nestled under her nose, assaulting her with memories. She did as her father had, taking a deep breath, then exhaling like someone in a trance. The passing years hadn’t dulled her brains desire for the sauce.

“Go ahead, Kiddo. Nobody here’s gonna care.”

“No, Pops. Go ahead. I’m good.” Her brain hated her for the response, but she held her ground.

“ That’s my Mattie. Good girl.” he said as he turned up the bottle….and let the alcohol pour over his headstone in its entirety. It only took a couple of seconds. He shook out every last drop. He replaced the top after one last sniff, then handed it back to Mattie.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of quitters.” he said. “Worse things out there to be when it comes to habits like these.” She put the bottle back into her jacket. She and Jack stood there in the quiet. Jack spoke first.

“Why is it you keep coming here, Kiddo? What is it you’re looking for? Absolution? Forgiveness? An apology? Are you looking for me to make excuses? You want me to reveal some great reason why life is so hard? Really, Mattie girl. This is a graveyard. There aren’t any answers here, just dried up old bones of people who had their shot. We finished our race, at least as far as this world is concerned. For good, or bad, what we had to give is left behind here. If we’re lucky, we’ve made a mark on someone, or something. If I had to guess what kinda mark I’ve left…I’d have to say it was you.” The old man’s eyes gleamed a bit at that. He looked Mattie over with satisfaction.

“I look at you, Kiddo, and I think ‘I helped make that beautiful woman with a kind heart. Here is a smart, hard working lady with common sense, style and class.’ Pride ain’t a virtue, hon, but I’m proud your my kid. I see the best parts of me in you. I see the worst parts too, but you overcame those better than I did. You made my life worth living every minute. Even the bad parts. You’re worth it, Kiddo, and then some.” A tear had gathered in the corner of his eye. Just one. Mattie watched in amazement as it slowly trickled down his cheek. It fell, soundlessly, to the cold, hard ground. It made a loud reverberation in her own heart.

The old man surprised her. He’d never gotten to her like this before. His words rang her heart like a bell. Mattie thought about the question. Why was she here? What was she looking for? Ever since she’d sobered up, she made it a point to come here every year on her sobriety day. The first time, four years ago, she’d come here with every intention of getting drunk. She’d planned on downing a bottle and working up the courage to tell her old man all the things she had always wanted to say to him in life. But when he appeared, all that anger seemed to fade. They’d talked about meaningless things. Bits and pieces of her life’s trivial problems. On each visit, they’d scratch the surface a little deeper. It went from an intended drunken rant to a yearly therapy session. Now he was calling her bluff with his blunt question. She steeled herself to find an answer.

“ I came here at first just because I was mad at the world, you included. Being sober freed my mind up to come up with all kinds of question about myself and my life. I came here to drink a toast to how well you screwed my life up, then walk away and never come back. I don’t blame you anymore for my crappy life, Pops. That’s on me. I don’t need absolution. God’s got my back, I know that. Forgiveness? Maybe. Lord knows I need it, but I don’t think I need it from you. We’ve both done things, and said things, we wish we could take back. Answers? Yeah, I’d love a lot of answers about my screwed up life, but I don’t think it’s anybody else’s answers I’m looking for. It’s my job to find my own.” Mattie let her own words sink in for a minute. Her head tilted in deep thought for a couple of heartbeats. Jack wiped his tear track away and waited.

“I think…why I’m here is….I just…” She didn’t really know how to get it out.

Jack walked over. He reached out and pulled her to him and gave her the first real hug she’d had since she was seven. Her eyes gushed. She lay her head on his shoulder. They held each other tight, Jack swaying back and forth just a touch, with his little girl in his arms.

“I love you, Kiddo. To the moon and back…” he said.

“For forever and a day, Pops.” she finished it for him, then added “I love you, too.”

The revelation hit her like a brick.

“I guess this is all I ever really wanted. Just one more time.” She slowly stepped back, smiling through the tears.

“Thank you Pops. I think I can go now. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Mattie. It’s more than okay. Come back next year. It’ll be different, but I’ll still be here to listen. Don’t bother with the booze or smokes next time. We don’t need it anymore, Kiddo. Take old Liberty, too, hon.” He put the dollar into her palm.

“ Some day you can pass her on to somebody who needs to rub a coin when they worry. I’m pretty sure you don’t need it for that anymore. I know I don’t.”

Mattie squeezed Jack’s hand one last time, then turned and began walking away. She turned back for one last look. Just a scary old tree with a cold bench was left. He was gone. She headed for her car. As she passed her father’s headstone, one corner of her mouth curled into a tight grin as she read the single line under the dates.

“Never, never, NEVER give up.”

And she didn’t.

Epilogue

The service was over. It’d been a beautiful ceremony, out here in the warm spring air. The happy couple looked twenty years younger. The minister had given them a beautiful verse out of Jeremiah 31:3:
“ I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”
It was so appropriate, and brought the crowd to tears, including Alyssa. After the serice, she sat on a small wrought iron bench not far from the tent, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Sonny walked up to her and she smiled nervously and turned her head away, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’m such a mess. I just…” she couldn’t finish.
“It’s okay. And you make a pretty mess.” He smiled.
She blushed and smiled back.
“Are you one of those guys who picks up easy women at these things?”
He laughed. He had a deep, playful laugh. Sincere. She liked it.
“We’ll see, I guess. So, what are your plans? I mean job wise? I know you’ve been with Marie for a long time. You have any idea yet?” He watched her pretty face contort just a tad in thought.
“Well, I guess I’d like to try my hand at building things. I think I’m done with the personal care industry for a very long time. Maybe forever. I just don’t know that I’d want to do this again. Starting over is pretty scary, though. I’m not a spring chicken any more.”
He nodded in acknowledgment, but not in agreement.
“My division has a project starting that I think you’d be perfect for, if you’re interested. I have some pull with the team leader.”
She put away her tissue and looked at him.
“Are you picking me up, or recruiting me?” She asked with a grin.
“Hopefully both.” he answered. “Walt and Ann thought a lot of you. That’s a heck of a recommendation in my book. Plus, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a cup of coffee since the first time I laid eyes on you. If you worked for me, we could have coffee together every day.”
“How about we go find some place for a cup now, and we’ll talk about it?” she asked.
“I never thought you’d ask. I guess you’re the kind of girl who picks up guys at things like this, then.”
They stood and started walking back to their cars together.
“You know, they were a beautiful couple. It was hard to see, at first. Him being as hard boiled as he is. I knew her from her file, and her work, and I just couldn’t see them together in my mind. Then I saw the VRs of them together, at the silo and other places. They really loved each other. It’s amazing how it lasted all those years, even through all they went through separately. When they finally came back together, it was like they just picked up where they left off.”
“She was like a giddy schoolgirl when he proposed. He made her so happy. I’m glad they got married. It was incredible. One for the record books.” She sighed.
“Yeah,” he said “it would have been great if they’d had more than six months together. I mean, everyone knew Ann wouldn’t last much longer, but how poetic was it that Walt would have a massive coronary within hours of her passing? “ They stopped at his car and he opened the door for her. They both stopped and looked back at the small tent in the cemetery that covered the two new, fresh graves.
“True love finds a way. They found each other because it was meant to be. Time, war, illness, and old age didn’t stop it. Kind of makes you believe, huh?” She gave him a look that spoke more than she said.
“You never know,” he began “where a cup of coffee will take you. I believe I want to find out, Alyssa.” She gave him a long look before stepping into the car. Her hand lightly brushed his as he held open the door. The first of a lifetime of warm feelings ran lightly through both of their souls.

First, though, coffee.

 

 

Christmas brings so many memories of childhood to mind. The great food (especially homemade candies and fudge!) the presents and decorations, and the football games are just a few of the first things that come to mind. When I was a kid, I never imagined the way I would come to view Christmas. Children are inherently selfish, and I was no different. I always thought about what new toy I’d get, or hoped to get. As I got older, I learned the joy of giving gifts. It still gives me a thrill to see a happy face when someone opens a gift they love from me. It wasn’t until much later in life that I began to see what was truly the most important thing about this holiday. Jesus, of course, is the reason for the season. Okay, I know. Very cliché, but also very true. I’m going to dig even deeper, so bear with me. Don’t think I’m going to get preachy on you.
God came to us in our own form, as a real human being. He started his life as an infant, in poverty and humility. The creator of the universe put himself through all the turmoil of life that his creations had to endure. He gave us an example of how we are supposed to live. He lived, worked, and endured among us, and beside us. He taught us to be selfless and humble.” Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself”, to paraphrase Mark 12:30-31. People are the most important thing. Everything is about people. We should love one another. Simple, huh?
We get only a short time on this earth. I’ve been on this big blue marble for fifty three years. Over half a century. Feels like yesterday I was playing basketball in the front yard, getting beat at a game of HORSE by my sister (either one, Maryann or Pam, you pick). Jesus gave us all we needed to know about this life in about thirty three years of living. I’m twenty years older than He was when we nailed him to the Cross. It’s taken me this long just to learn the important things in life. I’ll list them as simply as I can. In no particular order:

1. Be nice; be humble; and always remember there’s more you don’t know, than you do know.
2. Love is what you Say, Do, and Think. It’s only real when it’s all three, together.
3. Treat people right, and say what you feel while they can still hear your voice. When they’re gone, it’s too late.
4. Don’t be petty.
5. Being right isn’t about winning. You don’t get a prize for it. Seriously, you don’t.
6. Being wrong is okay, especially if you can admit it to yourself and others. It isn’t losing.
7. Your family is your family, no matter what. Treat them like it. No matter what.
8. Putting up with crap, and never giving up on someone, isn’t the same thing. (See 1 through 7)
9. God is God. Let Him handle all the stuff that He does. He’s really good at it. We don’t have to understand it, just have faith in it. We can handle whatever’s left. I promise.
10. I’m not Jesus. I’ll fail a lot to follow His example. It’s a given. That doesn’t give me license to be a jerk. Keep trying. Never, never, never give up. On Him. On you. On anyone.

Okay. I think that’s a pretty good short list for stuff I’ve learned. It’s not all of it, but it’s the important ones. Thank you, Jesus, for the lesson in Humanity 101.
One last thing. The thing I remember most, and miss the most, about all the Christmases of my past are the people that aren’t with me for the ones to come. I’d love to get the chance to spend another minute in conversation with my Dad, have a cup of coffee with my Aunt Joyce, hear Uncle Claude laugh, or see the twinkle in Sam’s eye as the kids open presents, just one more time. It’s all right there in front of us, right now. Don’t get caught up in the other stuff. It’s okay to like the presents and the snow and stuff. But it’s the people, man. Pay attention to them, savor them, while you can. That’s what Jesus would (and does) do.
Merry Christmas Everyone!

Chapter Eight

Mornings are a busy time at Greenbriar Nursing Home. Alyssa didn’t miss the hustle and hassle involved in having eight to ten people to care for in the early morning hours. Ann may have a lot of equipment to monitor, but Ann’s personal care was a breeze compared to working the floor as she used to do. Still, she’d enjoyed taking care of the folks. She knew that her job meant something to them. The residents relied on her for a lot of their daily living needs. When you can’t do ordinary things for yourself, those things aren’t just important, hey’re everything.

Alyssa gave Ann her bed bath. She cleaned, dried and dressed her with all the loving care of a mother with her infant child. She spoke to her constantly, informing her of everything she was doing as it happened. She spoke as a friend, with respect and interest in both the person and the actions. When Ann was dressed, Alyssa prepared her for interface with EVE. She did this with the same love and care that she’d used while tending to Ann’s physical needs. She talked to Ann through the whole process, including her in each step of the process. She treated her with respect. Their relationship didn’t stop at caregiver and client. While professionalism was at the forefront, their friendship was obvious.

The visor on, the equipment up and running, Ann began to speak to Alyssa with her eyes. Alyssa waited patiently, her copy of “The Telling” in her lap. She only had a couple of chapters left. A soft beep in her headphones directed her attention to the chat box.

“I’m not feeling especially well today dear. Weak. I think I’m just going to watch my old videos. Maybe after I’ll feel like reading for a bit. That’ll give you a chance to finish your Amish “literature”. I hope the ending is all you hoped for.” She threw in a little smiley face emoji on the end. Cute.

“Thanks, Ann. I know you’re being sincere, and not sarcastic, by the smiley face there. Enjoy the farm, hon.”

Alyssa opened the archives drawer and retrieved F1001 from it’s usual location. Third drawer, third row, second from the left. As often as Ann used this particular VR, she had it’s location memorized. Still, she checked the number before loading it and logging it on the Activity Log. She finished the set up and settled into her chair to finish her book. The Family Farm VR had all of her childhood memories, videos, and pictures on file. Ann could access all of them in the miracle of virtual reality. It was as close to dreaming as cutting edge technology could achieve. It was a Time Machine for the mind.

Ann had the external feedback sensors on so she could “feel” her surroundings in the VR. The gravel crunched under her tennis shoes as she walked down the old farm road. She savored it, as one would a delicious meal. She stopped and knelt down. She placed her palm down on the road and circled her hand in the dirt and rocks. The grit and pebbles were rough against her soft hand. She pressed into the gravel with a little force. When she picked up her hand and looked at it, there were little indentations and a couple of tiny rocks stuck to her palm. She smiled and rubbed her hands together. The familiar blue sky was framed, as usual, by the many perfect clouds floating on the wind. She stood up and continued her slow walk towards the clearing with the tractor. Ann took her time, enjoying the wind blowing her young, auburn locks in the gentle breeze. She walked with her arms stretched our to her sides, head back and eyes towards the clouds. The clean smell of the land wafted over her pleasantly.

Ann opened her eyes. She stood in the clearing now. The old combine sat in the dusty clearing, not even fifty feet away. Beside it stood a rusty old grain silo that she’d never recalled being there before. Ann stood staring at it for a very long time, not comprehending. In all the years she’d visited this VR rendition of her homestead, she’d never seen this silo. Yet, it was familiar. It belonged here. She knew it did, but she still didn’t understand. She walked towards it, head cocked to the side like a curious child. She walked past the combine and up to the base of the silo. She began to circle it, touching it with the outstretched fingers of her left hand. The old metal was cold and rough to her senses, like an icy drizzle of rain on her memory.

The pale blue toyota sat there with weeds growing around it. The dry rotted tires had been flat for many years, letting the chassis sit bare inches from the ground. The beat up old car gave Ann’s memory another lurch. She knew the car. The far corners of her memory were kicking up dusty tornadoes of information throughout her mind. She wiped the passengers window with her hand, plowing the dirt aside. Ann leaned forward with both hands over her brow, peering into the dark car. The thick layer of dust on the windows made it hard to see, but she could make out an odd shape sitting in the passenger seat. The door creaked as she pulled it open. There on the seat was a red and white wooden horse on rockers. About the size of her fist, it was grimy and faded with age. The colors still stood out, contrasting as they did with the dull, dusty interior. Ann picked it up slowly. The epiphany built slowly, but soon picked up a head of steam that exploded in her brain.

When Ann was six, her dad gave her a little wooden horse as a birthday present. He’d whittled it himself. He’d spent months shaping it from a solid piece of aspen. Then he’d hand painted it. The little wooden horse was her favorite toy growing up. She kept it on her bedside table and talked to it every night. She loved it. The little horses name was Lilly. By the time she was eight, she’d outgrown playing with Lilly, but she still talked to her every night as she lay in bed. For all of the love she had for Lilly, she was always afraid her friends would laugh at her for talking to a toy horse, so she never told anyone about her conversations with her dad’s gift. Until. One day she fell in love with a handsome young man. His deep blue eyes set her mind at ease. They saw her soul laid bare. She would, and did, tell this man her few dark secrets. Including the one named Lilly. The boy had smiled, but never laughed. He’d listened to the story of her dad’s labor of love and spoke from his heart.

“The Greeks left a wooden horse outside the gates of Troy after a war that had went on for a decade. It was left as a giant tribute to the Trojans, while the Greeks returned to their own lands. But the whole thing was a fake. Inside the hollow horse was a picked group of Greeks, waiting to be taken inside the walls of impregnable Troy. After a night of celebration, the men of Troy slept off their drunkenness. It was then that the Greeks sneaked out of the horse, cut their throats and opened the gates of the city. The whole war was over a beautiful woman. THE beautiful woman. The face that launched a thousand ships. The one true love of a man who was willing to do anything to have her. Lose everything. Even his honor. In a way, your Lilly is like that Trojan horse. Dad gave it to you as a way into your heart. It seems he was right. That little wooden horse worked its way into your heart and linked you and your dad together forever. I think it’s awesome.” Any misgivings Ann had had about Walt being the love of her life disappeared from that moment on.

Ann sat on the passengers seat, holding Lilly in both of her hands. The tears were flowing down her young cheeks. The wet streams dripped down upon the wooden horse, slowly cleaning the layer of dust from the old friend. She smiled as she softly cleaned Lilly off with her tears. She looked up to the silo framed against the blue sky. Towards the top was a small platform, with a metal stairway leading its winding path up to it. Ann squinted into the bright sky to make out a shape on the landing. Somehow she knew what it was. She walked over to the silo and began to climb the stairs. The old rusty steps creaked as she made her way around the bin. The landscape around her was a blur of green fields and blue skies. The last few steps brought her to the handsome young man sitting on the landing. Her tears flowed freely now. Her memories from deep down in the lost spaces of her mind turned from a trickle to a flood. She sat beside him, looking into his smiling face, her tears dripping from her quivering smile. He reached for her hands and covered them, and Lilly, with his own strong hands.

“This isn’t real.” was all she could think, or say.

“No, Marie. It’s not. But it’s the best I could do.” his voice wasn’t quite how she remembered, but she knew it was him.

“I’ve been living in this fantasy world so long. How could I not remember? How could I have forgotten? What happened?” she pleaded to understand.

“ You fell that day. The day we first….” his head bowed to stare at the floor.

She remembered the fall. The brain damage. The coma. The never ending long sleep, with the dreams that never satisfied. They were always full of questions, never answers. There were gaps. Some big, some small. They blotted out a lot of her memory of that year in a coma. That long sleep.

“You almost died. You never woke up. They told me you never would. Your folks blamed me. I blamed me. The police blamed me. I went to jail for a while. I had no money for bail, but they ended up acquitting me. When I got out six months later, I had no one. No family. No friends. No you. They moved you to a hospital out of state. I didn’t find that out for a very long time. They told me you’d died. Been cremated. I lost my mind for a while. Drank for a long time. Then I joined the Marines. I lost myself in the job. I had nothing to lose, nothing to live for. That made me a dangerous man. After two tours, I began to find myself again. Found a purpose. I was good at what I did in the service. The discipline, the order. It brought me back to reality, kinda.” He sighed, looking to the pretty sky.

“The years went by slowly. I wish I could tell you I became a good man, married a good woman and had a good family. I never did. I never was a good man after you. You were the only good part of me, Marie. I saved men in battle. That was the only good I think I’d done. But I killed plenty more. My agony over losing you brought out the fury in me.”

“ I retired from the Corps. I found a decent job as a security specialist for an international company that had me still toting a rifle, training afghan police, and guarding government officials. I managed to be good at it. About fifteen years ago I retired for good and became a crotchety old man with one lung and a bad disposition. Depression set in. Then I met Sonny.” He smiled at her as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“His dad had been my lieutenant in the ‘Stan on one of my tours. He died in my arms. His boy worked for HiTechMed in the research division. Your name came up time and time again. It took him years of seeing bits and pieces of your reports and information to put it all together. He found out about the lie your folks told me to keep me from seeing you. Not that I blame them. I blamed myself for everything for so long, too. By the time he hunted me down, I was living off of vodka and cigarettes, waiting to die. I was old and decrepit, just wanted to lay down and quit. Then he explained how you’d survived all these years, writing and all. Living a life. I wanted to see you so bad, but I didn’t know what it would do to you. Sonny came up with this little VR gambit. If nothing else, you’d know that I didn’t abandon you. I had no choice. I missed an entire life without you, Marie. I’m sorry. I never stopped loving you, though. Never.” His voice trembled.

Marie Ann Taylor held his hands tightly.

“I remember.” Was all she had to say.

The real world invaded her universe with a slight “beep” from the chat window. Marie Ann clicked it open reluctantly.

“There’s someone here that wants to talk to you, Ann. Can I disconnect you for a bit? He insists that it’s important.” Alyssa’s text was right to the point. She clicked the “ok” icon immediately.

As reluctant as she was to let the dream VR go, she knew it wasn’t “real”. But it was “her” real. Had been for a very long time. She felt the visor being disconnected and closed her eyes as Alyssa lifted it from her face. She kept them closed for nearly a full minute afterwards. She didn’t want to lose Walt’s image in her mind. She was afraid of losing him again.

“You gonna open those beautiful eyes, Marie?” His voice flowed like a river of honey into her ears. She opened her eyes and spied an old man peering at her. The lines, creases and wrinkles were cut deep into the old man’s face, and he was a bit stooped over, but it was definitely Her Walt.

“I didn’t want to scare you with this ugly mug without breaking it to you slowly. I didn’t know if you’d even remember me just cause you seen me. Sonny and some of his geek friends made the VR recording. Best there is, with all the interactive tech and stuff. I’m glad you remember me. I hope, I pray, that you can forgive me. Can you? Can you forgive me for taking a life from you? For walking away and giving up on you? I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Marie. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Ever will.” His old freckled hand touched hers, ever so slightly. It still felt strong, to her. It still felt like the hand of the man she’d loved.

“Now. I want to ask you if you’ll let Alyssa put your visor on again. There’s a little more to the VR recording. You’ll understand. Is that ok?” He pleaded in his heart for it to be ok. Her blink said “yes” and Alyssa replaced the visor gently. The recording was paused just where they’d been. It took her a few seconds to adjust. She could still feel Walt’s hand on hers, in VR and in reality. It made her heart glow and swell. The pause lasted for a couple of minutes. She began to think the bootleg program had a glitch. Then it started.

Walt smiled at her. His hand felt real on hers, because it was. She felt him set Lilly aside on the landing, still holding her hand with his free hand.

I know this is a strange thing to ask. It’s a strange world we’re living in, though. I’ve loved you, and lost an entire life with you. I don’t know how long we have left, but I do know that all the time I do have left, I want to spend it with you. Even if it’s just sitting here looking into your eyes and holding your hand. We can explore a universe of VR, take long walks and have long talks. I don’t care if it’s for just one minute, or years. I love you, Marie Ann. Will you marry me?’

The old man sat beside her bed, holding her motionless hand, in the nursing home here in the real world. The small box lay open on the covers of her bed. The small gold ring he’d retrieved from it was in his right hand, sliding it onto her finger. The VR goggles on his old, balding head were uncomfortable, but worth it. In the virtual world he laid eyes on Marie’s younger self, and got to retrace the footsteps of his life this time. It didn’t matter if it was real or not. It only mattered that he got to hear the love of his life say the words that would change his life forever, even though he could see forever from here. The small box, with the ring inside, was the one thing he’d carried with him all his life, since that fateful day at the silo. He’d intended to pop the question at this favorite spot of hers. Now here he was, doing it. Her answer was all he needed. All he wanted.

“Yes.” She said.

Chapter Seven

Step One

Walt rolled himself to the nurses station.
“I’ve had about enough of your shit, Shirley! I need my fucking pills, now!”
Nurse Shelly looked up and closed her eyes at the same time. Not now, she thought. Her shift was almost over and she was almost done charting. Why now, why me?
“Mr. Odell, I just gave you your meds, not even twenty minutes….” her words abruptly stopped and were replaced with a surprised gurgle as the contents of Walters water pitcher hit her in the face.
“NOW can I have my pill, bitch!?” his face was red and serious. The wetness was followed immediately by the water pitcher itself as it smacked poor Shelly right between the eyes and bounced to the floor. Luckily, the container was made of plastic. It still smarted, especially when it came out of the blue like that. She jumped to her feet in shock.
“Goddammit Walter!” Her cool was totally out the window.
She grabbed the phone and hit the intercom.
“I need any available personnel at the East Nurses Station, STAT!”
A light stampede brought six aides and four nurses. They found Walter Odell screaming at Nurse Shelly. She was wiping her face with a paper towel.
“Watch him! Watch his hands! He’s violent, and I’m getting a sedative!” She disappeared into the med room for a brief moment, returning with Walter’s “leveler”. It was nitey nite time for Walter.
The angry old man took his pill and the entourage of staff escorted him to his room. He didn’t even fight back when three aides changed his clothes, slapping a pull up onto his privates, and put him in bed. He just rolled onto his right side and pulled thecovers over his head like he always did. An aide stood by the door for a few minutes, making sure the old man was done for the night. Satisfied, she left. She left the door open about a foot, so they could check on him as they walked by.
Under his dark covers, Walt fished the two pills out of his cheek. No vivid dreams tonight, he thought. Now he just had to wait. The hour went by slowly. The old man listened for any voices, or footsteps, then unlocked the side rail in front of him and let it down gently. He slid out of the bed like an ancient ninja. He shuffled to his closet and retrieved a heel protector pad. It had a hump of padding on both ends, and was about two feet long. He placed it in his bed and covered it with his blanket. He tucked it in, and adjusted it. Okay, close enough, he thought. Shuffling back to the closet, he reached into the back and got out a set of scrubs. These he donned quickly by the dim light shining in from the hallway. The green scrubs felt strange on his skin. Too thin, even with his undershirt and pull up still on. He pulled out a pair of black tennis shoes, which he slipped on quickly. He stopped and listened as two aides walked by, casting their shadow into his room, but not stopping. Now for the hard part.
He went to the window and unlocked it. He pulled it to the left, opening it half way. He took a look around. The parking lot was empty and dark, save for a few staff cars and a lone street light. Walter raised his leg up and climbed through the window. The screen pushed aside easily, as he’d cut it with Sonny’s pocket knife along the right side and bottom on a previous visit. He’d used a couple pieces of medical tape to secure it at the corner so it wouldn’t be noticed flapping in the breeze. Outside, the light breeze gave the old man a chill. He pushed the window closed, leaving it a crack open so he could get a grip on it later. He turned and walked the short distance in the yard to the sidewalk that circled the facility. He stayed facing the parking lot, and reached into a pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. He fished out the two pills he’d been given and tossed them into the grass. He lit a smoke and stood as tall as his old back would allow him. He walked around to the back of the nursing home, nonchalantly, smoking and watching.
Step Two

Martha liked trolling the halls at night. It was quieter, if not completely so. People left her alone for the most part. Sometimes a chatty aide would break into her bubble, but she allowed it with a feeble smile. She passed the West Nurses Station slowly. She looked up at the clock by the med room. Two minutes past one a.m. I’m late, she thought. He’ll be there, anyway. He’s not the kinda fella that gives up that quick. Plus, he knows I’m a slow old lady. She grinned to herself.
She rolled past Ann’s door, shut as usual. Nice to have a sitter and a big room, without folks going in and out all hours of the day. Money’s good for something. Makes a difference for a lotta things. Her mind was wandering, but that was normal. She closed her eyes and concentrated for a second. Door. Got to open the door. One o’clock. The door was just ahead, but she meandered to it without a care. She finally made it to the back door and turned her chair slowly, stopping next to the key pad next to it. From her nightgown pocket she retrieved the little button sized thing that Walt had given her. She placed it exactly as he’d told her. The magnetic dime sized thing latched onto the pad and then she pushed the door’s entry bar just enough to open it. No alarm went off. She reached up and put her hand onto the window for just a second. She left a bit of a hand print on the glass. Then she rolled back down the hall like she did every night. Mission accomplished. She smiled to herself. That squirrel ain’t the only one with a lotta nuts, she thought.

Out in the back parking lot, Walt finished his smoke from his vantage point behind the trash dumpster. It felt good to be outside, in the shadows. He’d always loved being in the shadows, invisible. He saw Martha’s hand on the glass, grateful for the inside help. She was a good friend. Crazy old coot, but a good friend. He scanned the back of the building one more time. Nothing. He could hear a couple of people at the smoke patio, on the other side of the fence, but they couldn’t see him. He headed for the door, staying at a casual pace. He made it to the door, but stayed off to the side until he could look inside, down the hallway. Clear. He went straight inside, careful to not let the door shut behind him. The device Sonny had brought him would keep the alarm from going off until he removed it. He walked confidently to Ann’s room and turned the knob slowly. He stepped inside, closing the door without a sound.
The room was dark, except for the tiny blue and green dots of lights of the monitors next to the bed. Ann lay sleeping. Her eyes were closed and her breathing nearly silent, as the ventilator was top of the line. Walter took a long look at her, then snapped to the task at hand. His eyes adjusted to the dark slower than he was used to, but the monitor lights helped guide him. The passageway to his left was the anteroom where the VR equipment was located. He walked carefully across the tiled floor, pausing at the entry. No lights were on, as in Ann’s room, but the equipment’s lights gave off a soft glow. Enough to work with. He located the correct drawer. He opened the third drawer from the top, revealing rows of quarter sized disks. He chose the disk in the third row, second from the left, and gently held it out to the meager light of a monitor. Each disk was marked with four digits and a letter, and this one read “F1001”. Bingo. His hand slipped into his scrub pocket. The tiny box Sonny had brought him was there. He set F1001 down on the computer desk and opened the box. The disk inside was identical to F1001. He set his disk in it’s place and closed the drawer, putting the original in his pocket. Done, he headed to the door. Ann lay there, eyes still closed, as he passed by. He resisted the urge to stop. He gave her one last glance before he turned the knob carefully. Pulling it open just a crack, he looked and listened for just a second. The nurse and an aide were walking in the other direction, way down the hall. He waited. They entered a room, and he stepped out into the hall as quickly as he dared. He closed the door without a sound.
Step Three

Martha was way down on the opposite end of the hall, meandering as always. Walt suspected she was just curious, but didn’t wait to find out. He headed for the exit door. He kept his head down, like he was looking at a cell phone, and stayed right up against the wall on the right side as he walked. The camera angle was worse on that side. He made it to the corner, under the camera, and was just about to exit when he saw the call light come on two doors down. Shit. From down the hall he could hear the phone chime that warned the nurses desk that someone needed help. Down the hall he saw Martha wheel herself into a doorway.
“Hey, I thank somebody wants you down there.” She hollered into the room in a louder than necessary voice. Martha was parked halfway into the doorway, however.
“Back up, Miss Martha, and I’ll go check.” The tired nurse waited while Martha fumbled with her chair, checking the brakes and taking a full minute to give her room enough to get out. By that time, Walt was standing beside the dumpster again, fumbling with the second cigarette he’d brought. He grinned to himself as his trembling hand lit the Pall Mall. He took a deep drag and enjoyed the vice for a second.
He pulled the tiny box out of his pocket. He retrieved the original F1001 disk from inside, and looked at it thoughtfully. It was a very expensive piece of work, Sonny had told him. Probably worth fifty thousand bucks, or more. Tech people could reverse engineer it’s innermost secrets and make the patents worthless. That was probably worth millions in the long run. Walter flicked it into the trash dumpster without a second thought.

Step Four

Walt strolled casually back around the building, smoking. The parking lot was still empty. He had only been gone for thirty minutes, but it felt longer. He headed to the window and tossed his smoke after dragging it to the butt. A quick glance into the room showed no sign of danger, so he pulled the window open and climbed inside. Closing the window, he stripped the scrubs off and stuffed them into the back of the closet with the shoes following. He pulled back the covers and put the pad back into his closet. Satisfied, he crawled into bed. His old body was stiff from the effort, but he didn’t care.
He’d been on plenty of missions at night, in the service. He’d stalked other men, reconnoitered targets, and even ambushed groups of terrorists chasing him. He felt a familiar thrill in this mission that he’d never felt before. Maybe because this mission was more personal. It meant everything to him. It was the end game. Walt closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It was an hour before he finally dozed off. Maybe he should’ve held onto those pills, after all.

Uncles

My Uncle Keith passed away this week. He was my last living uncle. He and my Aunt Vera had been married for some 67 years. He would’ve been 88 years old this December. He served in the Marine Corp during the Korean War. He and Vera had two boys and a girl, and raised a beautiful family. My memories of him aren’t as extensive as I’d wish, but they’re all good. That’s a testament to his fine character, his hearty laugh, and his love for his family. I recall most vividly him sitting on my Mom’s back porch and watching him show guitar chords to my youngest son, Tim. They picked, and sang, and laughed. He was a good man, and I will miss him very much.
I wonder to myself what kind of uncle my nieces and nephews will remember me as, and what they will recall when they tell stories to their family. I’m okay with whatever they say, so long as it brings good memories to their minds and hearts. That’s what my memories of Uncle Keith do for me. He set the bar high for uncles, and I fear I won’t hold a candle to him. He was a good man. I’ll miss him, and I truly wish I’d known him better.
As we returned home from the funeral service, we received word that my great nephew had been born. Joseph Bear White came into the family on October 24th, 2018. My nephew, Joe Jordan, and his wife, Hannah, are blessed with five beautiful children. They’re blessed with a family full of love. I hope that some day Joseph Bear will remember his Great Uncle Kevin, maybe with a funny story, or even just a kind thought. I’m sure I won’t hold a candle to Uncle Keith, though.

 

Chapter Six

The West Wing of the nursing home was for private rooms. Some were occupied by hospice patients, who weren’t expected to live very much longer. Others were for residents who could afford to pay for what level of privacy a nursing home could provide. Then there was Ann’s room. Actually, she had two rooms that had been specially modified for her unique situation. A wall had been partially removed, leaving a large bedroom, a sitting room with special equipment and monitors and a small cubby room with a twin sized bed for her sitters use. The sitting room was home to several servers that housed a library of Virtual Reality experiences, including all kinds of scenarios, games, places, and even tailor made memories. The VR equipment also recorded and stored all of Ann’s interaction with the system, along with her own vital readings and health statistics over the five decades she’d been using the technology. The whole process was symbiotic. Both Ann and HiTechMed had achieved so very much through their relationship over the years.

Alyssa was preparing Ann for Interface. This required a series of connections to Ann’s person, using specialized tabs that monitored her heart rate, blood pressure, pulse, brain activity, perspiration, oxidation levels, and many more vital health statistics. The direct cranial studs were located in six locations on her shaved head, and these had to be cleaned and prepped before attaching the leads. Finally, there was the visor. Not a helmet, exactly, since it didn’t cover her head. It had the look of a motorcycle visor, but didn’t rest on Ann’s head directly. Alyssa fitted a halo collar around Ann’s head that the visor was form fitted and attached to. It’s LCD screen provides the canvas for the program’s wide variety of artistic expression. Tucked into a corner of the room is a back up power source generator that can operated the computer’s servers for up to twelve hours in the event of an outage. It was redundant, for the nursing homes back up diesel generator is designed to kick in immediately after the power goes out. Alyssa had a clipboard in one hand, and checked off each item as she checked, then rechecked it. It was not unlike a fighter pilot’s pre flight ritual. Although she’d done it thousands of times, she religiously ticked off every item carefully. The devil is in the details was her thought.

Ann lay in the bed, her eyes closed. The “sitting room” had enough room for her BCI/VR equipment, her bed, and Alyssa. Her bed could be rolled from her room to the equipment, eliminating the need to move Ann. While not cramped, it was certainly “cozy”.
“Ok, Ann. I’m almost done. Your access program is ready. How about you?” She looked over to Ann. There was only one slow, deliberate blink from the frail little lady.
“Good. Here comes the visor.” She gently lowered the visor over her face, carefully matching the edges with the collar around Ann’s head until a slight “snap” was felt. She checked the leads one last time, then sat down at the small office chair and scooted up to the keyboard/monitor and keyed in the last sequence of commands. Alyssa put her earpiece/mic set on, and settled back in her chair. She pulled her paperback novel from the desk in front of her and relaxed.

The BCI/VR had an Artificial Intelligence Operating System named “EVE”. Eve and Ann interacted on the screen by a variety of methods. Pupil dilation, blink series, and eye movement were combined with Eve’s experienced Predictive Options program to give Ann multiple options, based on her past choices of words, phrases and thoughts. These appeared on the LCD screen in HiDef, with audible prompts along the way. She was able to write, to speak, and even to draw and paint, in this manner. There was a lag time, but considering the fact that Ann could only move her eyes, it was still a phenomenal achievement in human/computer interaction. Ann had certainly made the most of it. She had made the New York Times Bestseller list with her first book. That was after years of LIS. She and Eve had over four decades of practice since then.

Alyssa heard a small “beep” through her headphones.
“Yes, Ann?” She asked, looking up at her monitor. The rectangular “chat box” typed it out as she spoke.
“Are you still reading that junk?” Ann responded.
Ayssa smiled. Her taste in reading was a far cry from Ann’s. The dog-eared paperback was her escape from reality. She loved Beverly Lewis novels. This last book in the “Seasons of Grace” series had her attention riveted. Amish romance was her weakness. It irked Ann to no end.
“Yes. Two more chapters left. And don’t look up the ending and ruin it for me again. That was kinda mean of you last time, in case I hadn’t told you.” She smiled. She and Ann had become so very close over the years. They could tell what each other were thinking almost as well as Eve could tell what Ann would say next. Alyssa read some more from “The Telling” as Ann laboriously composed a short response. She only managed to read one page before it beeped onto the screen.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, that was mean. Forgive me? I AM dying, however. Can you forgive me? I should get a pass for wanting you to read worthy literature.”
Alyssa grinned. Her friend’s sarcasm oozed politely through the sentence.
“Worthy is in the eye of the beholder. You taught me that, Ann. And yes, consider yourself forgiven. You’re a bit unrepentant, but still forgiven.” She said.
The pause lingered through the air for only a few minutes.
“Thank you.” Said Ann. The words on the screen were a pretty script, in pink even. Alyssa smiled. Ann liked to show emotion with color sometimes. Alyssa noted that Ann had selected a VR video to watch. It was her favorite. A memory of her childhood.

The field stretched out before her, on a landscape of slightly rolling hills. The crisp green rows of crops followed the horizon to the clear blue sky. The clouds passed over, clean, white and pure. Ann watched the clouds float by for several minutes. She never tired of watching the clouds. They calmed her, soothed her. The sun’s bright noonday light sent faint, but large, shadows crawling across the field. A particularly large shadow crawled slowly over a stand of trees at the edge of the horizon. Ann could barely make them out, they were so far out. She focused slightly on the trees, then blinked once, then once more. The stand of trees zoomed in until she stood before them. They were just a few dozen old hickory trees. Nearby was a large patch of bare dirt that a John Deere Combine was parked on. Off to the right lay a farm road, double rutted and well used. She’d been here a lot. She’d driven tractors and combines over every inch of these hills. She had grown up here. It was her family’s farm and had been for four generations. She remembered the smells, imagined she could feel the wind on her face. Even the smell of the hickory trees came to her. She stood there, in her imagined body, and looked up to the cloud as it passed out of the way of the sun. The brightness flooded her eyes, the dampers of the VR program toning it down to keep from damaging her eyes or causing any pain. She closed her eyes and could see the glow of red, just as if it were real. She couldn’t feel the warmth, however. Only because she hadn’t turned on the visor’s input sensors. She felt it in her mind, though, and that was enough for today.

She missed being outside. She missed feeling a real sun. She missed all the familiar smells of her childhood. She missed life on this big old farm. Even when the work was hard, and the days that seemed to never end. She missed so many things about her childhood. Her parents had passed away nearly twenty years ago, but they’d instilled within her soul a love of this land. They’d been good stewards of the land, and the land had been good to them. Her brother’s son, and his family, still worked these fields. Or at least the fields these images represented so vividly. The farm had grown since her grandparents had worked it. Their love of it lived on in their grandchildren. Ann opened her eyes as she looked down again at the big combine. She looked at it for a long time. There were so many things that kept her coming back to this place from her past. The memories flowed so easily here, giving her clarity of mind that she felt nowhere else. They always ended up reminding her of the things she missed. It was inevitable, given her situation. The most important reason she always dwelt here, coming back here over and over through the years, wasn’t the memories of things she’d lost. The real reason she kept coming back here was the pesky feeling, no- the knowing – that something here was missing. A missing piece among the missing memories. She searched her mind and heart for so many years, trying to pry the piece from her mind, to no avail. It didn’t stop her from loving this place, from wanting to be here. She was drawn here like a horse to water. Sadly, she never got to taste the cool water. It always disappeared like a mirage when her mind wandered too close to it. Whatever it was, it was still missing. She just knew it was something she had loved very much.

Chapter Five

Alyssa Moran hated her job, lately. She was a Certified Nursing Assistant. For fifteen years now, Alyssa’s number one client was Greenbriar Nursing Home’s Mrs. Ann Taylor. She was a seventy six year old whose quality of life was almost nonexistent. She suffered from a condition known as pseudocoma, which left her body almost entirely paralyzed. The only muscles she’d used voluntarily in the past fifty years were the ones that controlled her eyes. Even with technology, there was only so much she could do with those. For everything else, there was Alyssa. Toileting, bathing, grooming, and turning and positioning, all of these things Mrs. Ann required Alyssa to do for her. It was grueling work. Alyssa monitored and maintained the machines that kept Ann breathing and fed. She spent long hours making sure Ann continued to live. She spoke to her, read to her, and was a friend to her. She even managed the equipment that allowed Ann to speak and write. The technology involved required a specially trained technician to maintain. Alyssa had trained for two years just for that purpose. Although the job was hard, that wasn’t why Alyssa hated her job. She her job because Ann was dying.

Fifty years is a long time to have Locked In Syndrome, which is another term for pseudocoma. Most people don’t live more than ten to twenty years with the illness. Mrs. Ann was an exception. She continued to astound doctors and specialists of all kinds over the years. She had survived long enough to take advantage of the myriad of technology that eventually allowed her to communicate with the world around her, despite her condition. Her gastronomy tube, trach tube and ventilator were all state of the art. The physical therapy she received daily helped keep her circulation active and muscles semi exercised. Her family spared no expense to provide her with every new scientific breakthrough for someone in her condition. Still, she lay there. Trapped in a coffin of living tissue. The only vestige of humanity she felt was when she was immersed in her Brain Computer Interface/Virtual Reality System. There she could use the most sophisticated technology in the world to speak, to write and even travel. The virtual world, prompted solely by pupil dilation and eye motion, was less than an ideal way to walk through life. It’s definitely better than life in a dormant shell. The past twenty years, Mrs. Ann had become the poster child for BCI/VRS and HiTechMed, the producers of the system. Until they had come along, Ann had only a primitive first generation spell and speak interface. Her three books she’d written, and published, brought her to the company’s attention. She took to the BCI/VRS like a genius prodigy to a new idea. She proved the prototype and set the bar for the product’s uses. People all over the world benefited, from others with LIS to video gamers. Therein lay the groundwork for a very lucrative partnership. That was now coming to an end with the waning health of Ann Taylor. Along with Alyssa Moran’s job.

Alyssa was in her third year of college when her mother died. She’d fought breast cancer for six years before it took her. Alyssa’s scholarship required a grade minimum which Alyssa didn’t meet on the last semester of her junior year. Goodbye scholarship. Hello loans and a full time job. Alyssa found work at Greenbriar Nursing Home, as a Hostess. She helped the Certified Nurses Aides by doing all kinds of menial jobs that didn’t require certification. Making up beds, passing fluids for hydration, helping the activity staff with decorating and many, many other tasks. Greenbriar paid CNA’s three dollars more an hour, and they had their own training program. Within five months of taking the Hostess job, Alyssa became a CNA and started a path into a world she never imagined she would be a part of. Another five years later, she graduated from college with a Master’s Degree in Applied Technology. She was definitely the best educated CNA in Greenbriar’s history. She had every intention of going on to bigger, and better, things. Then Mrs. Ann came along. She was transferred to Greenbriar during her last graduate semester. Ann Taylor had special needs, and her family made it clear that she required the best of everything the facility had to offer. The best aide was Alyssa. Even with her college studies, she’d become an excellent CNA. She had an enormous heart for the work. She cared. She was intelligent. She spoke to her residents with respect and empathy. She did every job, no matter how gross or small, with as much attention to detail and with as much love, as though it were for her own mother. That made her a great CNA. When the family doctor researched her education and technical degree, he realized that she was the perfect aide for Ann. They offered her an opportunity that she couldn’t refuse. On top of a salary that an experienced RN would’ve been proud of, they offered her a benefits and retirement package above and beyond what the nursing home provided. Plus, they would pay off ALL her student loans. All for a contract that called for her being Mrs. Ann’s exclusive aide, until such time that she expired. At the time, Ann was sixty one years old and had been an LIS survivor for thirty five years. Ann was in poor health, and had several close calls with death during the last few weeks of Alyssa’s graduate year. When she was contemplating the family’s offer, she did her research on LIS. At best, she figured Ann had, statistically speaking, very little time to live, at best. A great salary, benefits, and debt free on day one of her first post-graduate job was too good to pass up. She jumped at the opportunity, before they changed their mind. Now, fifteen years later, she was watching a woman she’d grown to love die, with the most intimate vantage point imaginable. It was liking losing her mother a second time. She deeply wished that she’d left the nursing home fifteen years ago, and taken a ground floor job as a lowly engineer at a tech company. She wished that she’d struggled to pay her loans, struggled to keep the lights on, and struggled to make ends meet, all while working her way up the ladder with determination and grit. Instead, here she was, watching another person die very slowly. It just didn’t seem worth the cost.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Walt took a drag from his Pall Mall.
The CNA sat on the bench next to Greenbriar’s front entrance, drinking a Dr.Pepper and enjoying the non-clinical air. Even if it included second hand smoke from cheap cigarettes.
“The sun and the moon, Walt. How you doin?”
“Don’t ‘how you doin’ me, nursey girl.” He smiled.
“I’m just taking my break, Walt. What’s up?” She smiled back.
They both shared a look. He knew she meant well when her “professional attitude” kicked in, but he wasn’t her “client” and didn’t want that kind of conversation.
“I’m just wondering how much longer you think you’re gonna keep doin this job? You shoulda been buildin robots a long time ago.” He took another long drag.
“I don’t know. Ann’s not been doing so great lately. I’m thinking it’s not going to be long now.”
Her sadness seeped in. She took a pull off the soft drink.
“She’s such a great person. She’s been a good friend. I’m really going to miss her.”
Walter snubbed out his smoke on the wall next to her, then flicked the butt towards the driveway.
“You’re a good gal, Ally. She’s been lucky to have you there beside her all these years.”
She looked at him with unconvinced eyes.
“I just wish that it made a difference, you know?” She looked up at a passing cloud and sighed.
“I know people die. I know it’s how life works. Why do things like LIS happen to folks like Ann, though? What ‘great purpose’ could there possibly be? She has a kind soul. She deserved a better life than just bad virtual reality simulations.” She took a last drink of her soda, and turned to look at the old man.
“You’re a good guy, Walt. I know you have your moments, but you’ve always been nice to me. You seem to care about what I say. You listen. You’re a good guy. I’ll miss you when I leave this place.”
Walt sat in his wheelchair, looking down at his feet. He folded his hands together in his lap.
“I preciate it Ally, but I ain’t all that good of a guy. I’ve been to prison. I’ve done things. Killed men. Maybe it was in the service of my country, but they’re still dead. I’ve hurt people, too. Sometimes I wonder the same thing you do. Why do bad things have to happen to good people? I’m an old man, and I still don’t know. It ain’t right. It’s how things are, though. Ain’t a damn thing you can do about it, cept try to make a difference in peoples lives. Just like what you do. You make a difference. Maybe it’s just to Ann, but hey, ain’t that somethin? There’s a sayin that goes kinda like “he who saves a single life, saves the entire world”. I think some Hebe said it.”
Alyssa’s eyebrows narrowed at him and she gave him a chastising glare.
“ Jewish guy, I mean.” His form of apology.
She smiled.
“How can you be such a wise old man, and an asshole in the same breath? Thanks, Walt.”
She leaned over to him, and gave him a light hug. Not a “bless your heart” hug, but a real one. Complete with a peck on the cheek. Her eyes watered a bit as she went inside. Must’ve been the sunlight.
Walt sat outside for a while, looking at the mums and begonias planted in the flower bed by the door. His weathered hands shook as he reached into his pocket. The box was still there. He took it out and covered it with both hands. He felt the edges in his palms as he looked at the flowers. The clouds rolled a little east and let the bright light of day cover him in it’s warmth. He looked up towards the sky and closed his eyes. One short, soft prayer he spoke, soundless to all but his own soul. He returned the box slowly to his pocket and headed for the door. His eyes were moistening as he went inside. Must’ve been the sunlight.

 

Chapter Four

The courtyard was quiet. A squirrel played at the base of the old Cherry Blossom tree. A woman sat in her wheelchair on the patio, a sandwich in her hands. Her gnarled hands were tearing small pieces off, weakly tossing them in the animal’s direction. The squirrel looked up occasionally, but kept his distance.
“Tree rats don’t eat baloney, Martha. They eat nuts.” Walter said quietly, as he pulled his wheelchair up beside her.
“Well, I hate baloney. And I ain’t got no nuts. He’ll have to make due.”
“Here.” He handed her a bag of walnuts.
She tossed the rest of the sandwich in front of her, into the grass, and took the nuts. Her hands shook as she reached into the bag. Her bony fingers fumbled and dropped one walnut, then she managed to grasp one. She gave Walter a look that was devoid of expression, then looped the nuts towards the squirrel. They sat there, watching the rodent perk up and stare suspiciously at the food. He stood up, head darting back and forth like he was about to cross a New York street corner, then darted forth and snatched it up. He sat there and looked at the two septuagenarians, grasping the huge walnut half in his stubby claws, then crammed the whole thing into his cheeks and shot back to the safety of the Cherry Blossom tree. He scampered up to the first limb and began to munch quickly on his prize. They watched him for a few minutes, enjoying being able to provide for someone.
“You got a foul mouth, Walt. You shouldn’t talk to your son like that. He’ll quit comin to see ya. I know. I ain’t seen my daughter in over a week. Don’t be like that no more. You’ll miss him when he don’t come back.” She kept her eyes on the squirrel.
“Martha,” Walter reached over and put his hand on her arm in a kindly way.
“Your daughter died a long time back. You told me about it over a month ago.”
She never took her eyes off the squirrel.
“I know. I ain’t crazy. Just cause she’s dead don’t mean she don’t come and see me. But when I cut loose and act a fool, she stays away.” She paused, waiting for Walt to comment. Nothing.
“Me and Colette were thick as thieves when she was a girl. She married a local boy and they never stayed more’n five miles away from my house. I seen her nearly every day of my life. I put myself in here so’s she wouldn’t have to. I told her “It’s the best thang for me. I love it here. They’s all kinds of people here my age. It’s for the best”. I hate old people. Always have. But I didn’t want to be her burden. She had a good life. A good man, two purdy girls that she loved on all the time. They had a good family. I wanted em to come visit, not spend ten years wipin my ass. Then she up and keels over from a brain aneurysm, whatever the hell that is. Her husband moves two states away, to his sisters, so’s they can help raise the girls. Don’t blame him. Girls need a woman to show em stuff. Do wish they’d come see me more’n once or twice a year, though.” She tossed a handful of walnuts into the grass.
“She still comes to see me all the time. Cept when I act mean and forget I’m a lady n cuss folks out n such. She’s still the only thing that keeps me sane in this place.”
Walter grunted. He reached over and took a walnut from the bag. He had a bite.
“Not too sure that’s working, Martha. You’re nuttier than that bag you’re holding.” He plopped the rest of the walnut into his mouth and chewed through a smile.
Martha smiled a thin line that cracked across her face. She didn’t smile a lot, lately. When she did, though, it looked natural. Honest.
“Maybe you right, Walt. But she does show up. We talk. We member times when she was little. We laugh. I miss playin spades with her. She was a hell of a spades partner.” Her smile broke into a little laugh. Walt thought her face would shatter.
They sat, and watched, as the squirrel made his way back to them. He gathered the nuts, piling them into his arms until he began dropping them. Then he stuffed three of them into his mouth, cramming until both sides were stretched to the limit. His arms, and mouth, full he stood and looked at the two old people. His two front teeth bracing the packed walnuts shoved into his mouth. The three beings shared a look for a second, then the squirrel turned and wobbled comically towards the tree, dropping nuts, stopping to pick them up, determined not to lose any. They watched, patiently, as he struggled across the yard.
“That fuckers got a lotta nuts.” Walt said.
They both busted out into a big belly laugh. Walt nearly sprayed Martha with chewed up walnut, but managed not to. The laughing tapered off as they watched their little buddy hide nuts all around the base of the tree. He busily buried each one, like he was a fuzzy pirate hiding treasure chests.
“You crazy, Walt. Promise me you’ll quit that cussin, though. At least not when you’re boy’s here. If ya won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. Okay?” She actually looked at him, her smile drooping sadly, but not altogether fading. Pleading.
“Okay Martha. I promise. Just for you, though. If it makes you feel better, I’ll do it for you.”
It was Martha’s turn to pat Walter on the arm, as she nodded and smiled a thank you to him.
“But just so’s you know, I ain’t got no kids.” Walt winked at Martha as she looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“But I seen him plenty o times. He brings your cigs and yall sit out front n talk. You even call him Sonny. I heard ya.” She wondered for a second if Sonny was as dead as Colette.
Walter nodded. He slid a hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the small box there.
“Yeah. All true. But I call him that because that’s his name. His name’s Sonny.” He crooked his finger and motioned her closer with a wriggle. She leaned over towards him, one eyebrow raised.
“Martha?”
“Yeah Walt?”
“Can you keep a secret?” The two old people shared a gleam in their weathered eyes.