Going Home (Jimmy/Jacoby)

25

May 30th, 2049

“Jim? Supper’s ready.”

I turned my head to look at Alise, who smiled as she approached one of my hammocks. I’d forgotten how much I loved it out here at the farm. Don’t worry, I’m not going crazy yet, I promise. Katie and I came out for a few weeks to visit Jacoby and stay at the farm. I really, really wish I could move back, but I know that I can’t.

“Thanks,” I said, as she helped me up. We’re moving from spring into summer out here, and I’m so excited. The gardens look amazing and tomorrow, I’m going to work on them a little. Penny’s tree is huge and I can almost feel her presence around it. “Thanks for having us. I know six weeks is a long time, but I just needed out of California for a bit.”

She hugged me, giving me an arm to lean on as we walked. My joints are stiffer of late, but I won’t let that slow me down. “It was no problem, Jim. We love having you out and summer is a good time for you to visit. Tomorrow, I’ll drive you down to the cemetery, okay?”

I nodded, as we walked up the porch. Alise is an amazing cook and I noted the smell of her famous lasagna right away. Grinning, I washed my hands at the kitchen sink, then joined everyone at the table.

“It smells amazing,” Katie praised our hosts, as she placed a napkin in her lap.

“Nothing special,” Alise said, smiling. She dished up our plates and then finally her own. “I know it’s Jimmy’s favorite. I’ve got six weeks of your favorites lined up and Garrison really wants you back more often.”

Her husband laughed, blushing a bit. “They happen to be my favorites as well, so I’m getting spoiled at the same time. I also have some new grilling marinades and such to try, provided the humidity doesn’t get the better of us as we get into June.”

I savored my first bite of the lasagna, grinning. “I look forward to those,” I told him, hoping to get a chance at the grill myself. I've been grilling for Katie and me, making all of my and Jack’s favorites and she’s loved every one of them. “This is very good, Alise. Thank you again.”

She smiled, her blue eyes bright and I realized how much like her father she really was. “No problem, Jim. Oh and before I forget, a little birdy might’ve accidentally told her dad you were visiting and he might’ve arranged a Creighton reunion. Everyone has retired now and even Tony and Annie are back for a visit. So, tomorrow afternoon, everyone’s meeting at the ER and then you’re all deciding where to go from there.”

I nodded, smiling even if it was a bit of a sad smile. Jacoby would’ve loved to see everyone, but I’d have to represent him. I was looking forward to seeing everyone, though, especially Annie. She got a heart transplant two years ago and it was a complete success.

“Sounds good,” I said, trying to recapture my good mood.

Supper was quiet as we ate, and I wondered what it would be like to see everyone. Tonight is a good night, my memory is okay. But my memory varies day to day, night to night; sometimes I have very bad days with no memory of anyone or anything and those days scare me. But tonight is a good night and I hope the next six weeks are like this. If the medication can just work a few more weeks, I will be okay with that.

***

“Jim? You ready?”

It took me a moment to remember Alise’s name, but I nodded, foggy today. She’d made me a calendar, and on it was visiting the cemetery and then a Creighton reunion. I was nervous to reunite with co-workers, knowing that I’d changed a lot since I’d last seen them.
“Garrison will come tonight, okay? He can help with names and things. But don’t be discouraged, Jimmy. Garrison’s dad’s memory specialist gave us a lot of things to help him and they’ll help you, too. Shall we get you to Jacoby?”

I nodded, making sure my hair was combed. I’d only been home a day and I never wanted to leave. It’s so hard to know that we buried Jacoby out here, as he wished and not out in California, where I could see him every day. I feel like a bad husband; I haven’t been to his grave since after his funeral, because I can’t just hop a plane to Iowa.

“I miss him, Alise. One day, my bad days will be every day and I don’t want to forget him.”

She took my hand, which was much more wrinkled and paper-thin than it had been a few years ago. “You won’t, really. Garrison’s dad never forgot his wife, and would ask for her daily. He might forget me, the nurses or Garrison, but he never forgot June. You won’t forget, Jacoby, Jimmy. He’s with you every day.”

By now, we’d reached the little cemetery that housed my husband and my adoptive parents. Alise stayed in the truck while I donned my mask and walked toward the tree in the southwest corner. Slowly lowering myself to the ground, I sat in front of my husband’s burial site and cried.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here until now. I never thought that you and I would live in separate states after the one time we tried it. I’m such a bad spouse and I’m so sorry. I really miss you, Jack. It’s been hell these last few months without you. The dementia is getting worse and I’m having more and more bad days. I’m still on the medication because it does slow things but it doesn’t work as well anymore.

“Katie and I came out here for six weeks, because I needed to come home, Jack. I think I want to come home for my memory care, if it comes to that. I need to talk to the girls about it while I’m still able to make that decision. I know they’ll fight me, but I think it’s the right thing to do. If I’m not going to remember anyone anyway, I’d rather be at home with relative strangers than disappoint my kids and grandkids.

“When I really need you, you aren’t here. I know it wasn’t your fault, Jack, I know that. We had to make a difficult decision to take you off life support after barely 24 hours, all because you were brain dead. Here we are, 2049, and we can’t fix brain dead. I feel like I need to blame someone for what happened, but I don’t know who to blame, so I blame no one. Sometimes I blame myself, but I don’t think there’s much I could’ve done, really. But it’s so hard to live without my life mate, Jacoby, you have no idea. We thought we had years and then you were gone, just like that.”

Sighing, I wiped my face, looking at his headstone. I wiped some dirt and grass clippings from it, frowning. I’d gotten a headstone that could hold a picture and I looked now at the picture I’d chosen to represent him. It was taken on our wedding day, on the beach in Vacaville, CA, his home town. We were both in white polo shirts, khaki shorts, and barefoot, as a local justice of the peace performed our ceremony. At that time, gay marriage wasn’t legal, but we didn’t care; we were married and as soon as it became legal in Iowa, we got an official license. It was one of the happiest days of my life and I wish I could rewind time.

“Oh Jack, I don’t know what to do anymore. The dementia is getting worse and while I’m strong for everyone, it’s getting harder and harder for me. I cry every night, lying in our bed, in our room, wishing you were here. I go to grief counseling because that’s what I’m supposed to do. But everyone thinks I’m so strong when I’m not. I’m just strong for them and I put on the illusion that I’m strong without you. I can’t do this anymore, Jack; please, come and take me, okay? Don’t let the dementia win, don’t let me forget everyone.”

But of course, there was nothing. There was a slight breeze, standard for the time of year, and I took no comfort from it. The belief I have in spirits did nothing for me now, as my husband has not visited me but a handful of times and only in dreams. Maybe I was wrong, maybe spirits don’t exist. Was I just fooling myself when I felt mom’s arms around me? Or when I thought I’d seen Eleanor in the house?

“I guess I’ll just have to wait time out, then,” I sighed, kissing his stone. It wasn’t right for him to be buried here without me. My name is etched beside his, but the final date is still empty. “Just—be there when it’s my time, yeah? Because it’s not even been a year and I can’t live without you.”

I sat there for a while, staring into the distance, staring at my husband’s picture. I knew that he was gone and even as a spirit, he wasn’t coming back; he never believed in that stuff anyway. I just hope he’s happy, wherever he might be. I am a staunch atheist, more so as I get older, but once in a while, I wonder if his beliefs were right.

“I love you, Jack, and I always will. If I forget you down the road, then I’m really sorry. I don’t want to forget anyone, but I have really bad days now. I wanted you to be there for me when the dementia got out of hand, but I don’t get to have my way. I know that you’re “there”, of course, but it’s not the same. Just take care of everyone, okay? And don’t forget me.”

I stood, moving over to mama and papa. They, too, had a picture on their headstone, one of the last of them ever taken. Eleanor had succumbed to an infection because her doctor hadn’t kept up with current treatment of the time. There’s a good chance she’d have lived a lot longer had she just switched doctors, but that didn’t happen. I felt like this was my final goodbye, for some reason, as I knelt in front of their headstone. I cleaned it as I had my husband’s, fresh tears falling down my face.

“I love you guys. I can’t believe how many years you guys have been gone; it’s not right. I hate being an orphan and now a widower. I’m sure you’re well aware of what happened, of course, but it still sucks and it’s still hard. Just as I didn’t know how to live without you guys, I can’t live without Jack, either. But I’m managing. It seems that dementia is going to take me soon, and I’ll probably forget everyone. If I forget you, don’t hold it against me, okay? I have to go now, but remember that I love you.”

With one last look at the two graves and the tree that shaded them, I moved toward the truck, wondering how much longer until I’d be lying here next to them.

***

Weeding the garden is so relaxing. I know some people see it as a chore, but I truly enjoy it. Even if it’s getting harder to get up and down, I still love kneeling in my garden pulling weeds. I’ve also mowed, which was nice. I was out there for hours just me and some music, and my mask, of course, because of the allergens out here. My lungs are okay since my last bout of problems, but I know I have to be careful out here.

“It looks great!” Katie exclaimed, kneeling next to me as I pulled the last weed. June had arrived with a vengeance and I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I sat back, taking a long pull on a bottle of water. “All done?”

I nodded, glancing at my phone. Due to a scheduling conflict, the Creighton reunion had been pushed to today, and I had a couple of hours yet. Standing slowly, I winced at the stiffness in my back and legs. I’m definitely not 25 anymore, I thought, as Katie and I walked toward the house. The weeds I’d pulled would be dealt with later, according to Alise so I just left them.

“Better get showered and then you and Garrison will head into Creighton,” she reminded me as I shed my gardening shoes and gloves. “You’re a little sun burnt; did you forget the sunscreen?”

I shrugged, feeling the heat on my neck and face, even though I’d worn a good hat. “Probably,” I said, shedding my mask. I headed upstairs to shower, nodding to Alise as I went by. She has a daily schedule she follows and now it was relaxing time, apparently. I listened as she turned the page in her book (e-readers died out, thankfully), and smiled. Jacoby and I spent hours sitting in that same living room reading books in a comfortable silence. The memory made me wistful, but it was a good memory.

“I didn’t mean it you know.”

Jumping, as I stepped into the shower, I swallowed hard, looking around the bathroom. I’d swear Jacoby just said something, but he’s not here. Thinking myself overly exposed to the sun, perhaps a bit over-hot, I got into the shower. No one said that audio hallucinations were part of dementia, though I suppose everyone is different.

“I didn’t mean to die.”

Okay, I am going crazy now. That’s Jacoby and it sounds like he’s in the bathroom with me. I peeked my soapy head out of the shower curtain but there was no one there. Shuddering a bit, I rinsed the shampoo, listening as the bathroom door opened, causing me to nearly scream from fright.

“I brought you a towel, hon. Everything okay?” Alise asked, her voice echoing a bit in the bathroom.

“I-I well, you’d think I was crazy,” I muttered, glad I was hidden behind the opaque shower curtain.

“I doubt that, Jim. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well, I swear I just heard Jacoby talking to me. I know I’m losing my marbles and all, but I didn’t think I was that far gone.”

I worked conditioner into my hair and then reached for a rag to start washing my body. There was silence for a moment before Alise spoke again.

“This is normal, actually. Garrison’s dad did this, too, except he’d hear dogs barking or music playing. Once he was convinced his mother was scolding him. When you start to have good days and bad days in the wide arcs that you do, the hallucinations are normal. Since Jacoby’s passing is so recent, it makes sense that you’re hearing him first. I don’t think you’re crazy, hon, it’s just the progression of the dementia. When you’re done showering, Garrison’s downstairs, getting ready to go. You have time, so don’t hurry.”

“Thanks.”

By then I was done, so I rinsed my hair and then shut the water off, wondering what else was in store for me. What other strange symptoms would I start having? Would I start seeing things? Would I truly go insane?

“I love you.”

That voice. That’s the one I fell in love with. “I love you, too,” I told my invisible husband.

26

According to the latest email from Katie, dad is doing fine in Iowa. I guess today there’s a Creighton reunion and while he’s nervous, Garrison is going along to help with names and stuff. He’s had some more memory problems, but his good days and bad days vary widely, so that doesn’t surprise me. Katie did tell me he’s having some auditory hallucinations which are normal, but they concern me; this is just another step toward the end, isn’t it?

“How’s your dad?” Randi asked, as she closed Bethany’s door. Ava’s sleeping soundly after another outburst, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

“Doing well. I guess he’s having some auditory hallucinations, which are normal, of course. I guess it concerns me, though, because that just puts him closer to the end, you know? Right now, he’s got a lot of good days and bad days, but soon the bad will outweigh the good. There’s a Creighton reunion today and he’s excited for that, I guess. He’s been to the cemetery every day since they arrived, of course, and his first hallucinations are of dad, of course. It makes sense, but it’s still worrying.”

Randi put her arm around me once we were downstairs, and moved me into the kitchen. She was quick to grab two wine glasses, filling both, and guiding us out to the back deck. Once we were seated on the swing, she kissed my cheek and hugged me.

“Just remember that he’s having a good time, honey. That’s why they went out there, because he needed to go home for a while, Cilla. I wouldn’t worry about the hallucinations, because they are just a part of the dementia. I’m more worried about our daughter right now.”

Ah yes, our lovely Ava. Her birth-grandfather has been helping with her math and once again things seemed to be settling. However, tonight proved us very, very wrong; Zach was over helping her with her math and once again, we’ve lost a window to her violent temper. I’m getting tired of her temper and as such have taken her camera away until she repays the cost of the window. This time, we’re going with shatter-proof glass, considering the clean up process was time consuming and pool cleaning is expensive.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, sipping my drink. She’d gone to bed without a snack and no dessert, in tears, once we calmed her down.

“I don’t know,” Randi admitted, sighing, as she gently pushed the swing with her bare feet. “I talked to mom about her today and even mom was baffled. Of course, we can’t compare her to you or I at this age, since she’s biologically not ours. I spoke to Gena through email as well and she said Garrison had no problems at this age at all, as far as outbursts.”

“We should get a hold of the birth mom,” I suggested, looking up into the darkening sky. I can’t imagine living in Iowa again, though going home does have some appeal. “Perhaps her folks can give us some insight.”

Randi shook her head, which confused me; we knew who the birth mother was, why not speak to her? She hadn’t passed away so far as I know and her folks are certainly accessible by at least telephone.

“I asked Gena about talking to Maria’s parents, but they have no contact information for them. Maria gave up her parental rights at the same time Garrison did, she explained. I knew that, but said we should still be able to talk to her, but Gena said no. Maria gave birth to Ava and was never heard from again. Last anyone knew, her folks lived out of state and wouldn’t even speak to Zach and Gena. So, we’re going to have to assume she got this from her mom and work through it. All I know is that I’m tired of having my deck window boarded up just because she doesn’t like math. There’s got to be more to it than a dislike of the subject, don’t you think? Bullying at school? A problem teacher? I just don’t buy that it’s all on the subject of math alone.”

I hadn’t considered that. She was always shouting about math this and math that, but what if that was a cover up? Up until a few months ago, she’d never complained about math beyond some minor annoyances with it. Now all at once, we’re having major and sometimes destructive fits about the subject.

“I wonder if dad has any ideas,” I mused, and Randi shrugged. “What are we going to do? Perhaps we should talk to her, see what the problem is. If we ask the right questions she might open up to us.”

“It’s worth a try, if we can get her alone. I love Bethany, but she’s trying to be far too involved in something that doesn’t even involve her. Perhaps if we can get her to go to a friend’s house or something?”

Randi pulled out her phone, opening the calendar, then nodded. “She’s down for a birthday sleepover at Christina’s this Friday night; let’s talk to Ava then.”

I agreed, finishing my drink and setting my glass aside. I curled into Randi’s side, sighing, as she rubbed my back and ran her fingers through my hair. I knew parenting had its ups and downs, more so when you’re an adoptive parent, but I hadn’t counted on this. I do realize that Ava is also going through puberty and that probably has as much as anything to do with it. But still, I didn’t think we were going to go through this much grief and I certainly was not prepared for it. I just hope that talking to her nets us something, because we can’t keep paying for windows that break because of flying text books.

***

Did you know that shatterproof glass is expensive? I mean, $200 is not something I can just randomly come up with, after all. Thankfully, the glass company understood where we were coming from and accepted a payment plan. Ava has been hooked up with several paying jobs in the area, from babysitting to mowing lawns and cleaning pools. Dad offered her $15 a week to clean his house top to bottom and she accepted. I think she just wants her camera back but it’s going to be a while.

Once we’d shipped Bethany off to her sleepover, I called Ava into the living room and asked her to sit on the couch. In the fashion of my parents, Randi and I each have a recliner that faces the couch; Jacoby once called this the “you’re in trouble” set up.

“What’s going on?” Ava asked, looking at us warily. This sort of thing is usually ended with ‘you’re grounded’ but not tonight. “Did I do something wrong again?”

I hated that look on her face, the one that said she was ashamed of her previous problems and hoped she wasn’t in too much trouble for something new. I mean, she’s apologized for breaking the window and understands that she won’t get her camera back until it’s paid for; I just hate seeing my child hurting.

“No, honey,” Randi assured her; she’s so much better at these things than I’ll ever be. “We just want to talk. Since you’ve received your punishment for the outburst and have agreed to it, there’s nothing to worry about there. We just want to know what’s going on, that’s all. I understand that math is frustrating, but until the last month or so, you were never this upset about it. So, what can we do to help? Is math the entire problem?”

She started squirming and I started to wonder if we were right about there being more to the situation than just math. It took her a while to answer but she finally sighed.

“Well, there might be. But it might be kind of stupid.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “We would never call your problems stupid, honey, I promise.”

She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. Wringing her hands, she looked to the polished hardwood floor and sighed. “Well, math does suck and the last month or so, it has been harder than usual. I truly am mad about it, but I guess there’s another problem.”

I nodded, as my suspicions had been confirmed. But I let Ava talk, because that was the way to handle the situation.

“Well, see, I have a hard time with math, of course.” We nodded, considering this was an understatement of late. “And, sometimes, the teacher has us go to the board and do a problem on it. Well, about a month ago, I got called on and I didn’t know how to do the problem; I didn’t understand the process. But, I had to go, so I went up. I did it all wrong and the kids started laughing at me. I don’t like being laughed at, so I started crying. The teacher took care of things, but I started getting picked on after that. I went to the teacher and she said she’d take care of it. But nothing changed. Then, you got me into a different class and I thought things would get better.

“They did for a while, and I thought my problems were over. But then I got called on again to do a problem at the board. I couldn’t do it, so I started crying and I threw up in the waste basket. Now, I’m getting teased again and the teacher can’t seem to do anything about it. I told the teacher and the principal, but nothing is changing. I’ve started skipping math class and yesterday, I skipped school all together. I went to a local playground and hung out all day. Since you packed me a cold sandwich, I was able to have lunch. I went back just as school got out to catch my bus home.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. I know that bullying is hard to combat (I was bullied all the time in school) but if it’s gotten this bad, something has to be done.

“Oh Ava, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” I asked, going to her. She was looking at the floor, but the little puddles at her feet suggested she was crying. “We could’ve done something to help you.”

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “I don’t think anyone can help, mom. If the teacher and principal can’t help, who can? I don’t want to change schools because that’s like giving in you, know? I don’t want the bullies to win. I just want to get through a day without being called names.”

I looked to Randi, who looked as stumped as I felt. On the one hand, I’m proud of my daughter because she wants to tough it out. On the other hand, it’d be easier to find a new school.

“We’ll have to talk this one over, okay? For now, I’m going to contact the principal tomorrow on my breakfast break and see what we can do. You’ve done the right thing on your part, but clearly, something isn’t working. I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’ll figure it out, okay? Just promise me no more flying math books?”

She started to giggle a bit and nodded, hugging me tight. “Can I go now?”

I nodded, as she ran off to the backyard. I watched one of her friends, Olivia, come over the fence and both were soon in their bathing suits in the newly cleaned and glass-free pool. Randi came to sit with me on the couch and we both sighed.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” she asked, watching the girls. I have no doubt Olivia will be invited to spend the night and that’s fine with me. “I had no idea this was going on.”

I shrugged, running a hand over my ponytail. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but we’d better come up with something. I’m not about to have my daughter bullied because math is difficult for her. It’s not for everyone and people need to realize that. I guess we start by contacting the principal and going from there. These are the times I need my dads. Jacoby would have the right answers, the right ideas, and he’d know where to start. But he’s not here and dad’s in Iowa, and I don’t want to bother him.”

Randi hugged me, nodding. “I know. I suppose we could call mom and see what she says. After all, she’s probably gone through something similar with one of us kids. Maybe I’ll call her tonight; it’s still early out there.”

She wandered off, dialing her phone, as I watched Ava and her friend play. It disturbed me that in this day and age, kids could still be so cruel. I mean, I know I was bullied in my day, because I had two dads and I was gay, but I thought we’d come further than that of late. With a sigh, I stood and went outside to see if we were having a guest tonight.

“Can Livia stay for supper and over night?” Ava asked, looking at me with pleading green eyes.

“Yes, as long as her parents don’t mind,” I said, waving to the Carolson’s. “Can Livia stay?”

Her dad nodded, smiling. “Yep. I’ll bring an overnight bag.”

The girls cheered and I smiled for a moment. At least we were doing something right, if Ava’s happy now. I went back inside to meet Greg and to see about some supper. I know the girls love hamburgers and I always pre-make some patties for nights like this. With Olivia’s bag in hand, as well as instructions for her nighttime meds (she’s diabetic), I waited for Randi to come downstairs. Hopefully, Marg would have some great advice for us. She’s raised three kids on her own for a long time, so she’s seen it all, just about.

“You guys want hamburgers and packet potatoes tonight?” I asked, and the girls nodded, splashing each other in the pool. “All right. Supper in about 45 minutes, then.”

I got the grill going, made the potatoes and then got it on. About that time, Randi wandered down, so I finished arranging the grill and joined her inside.

“Mom said talk to the principal first and go from there. Often times, punishment deters further teasing, but it has to be enforced and consistent. If there’s a bullying policy and it’s not being enforced, then we can go into suing the school, but that’s a last resort.”

“Sounds good,” I said, stealing a kiss. “Supper is on, Livia’s spending the night and we can relax when the girls are bed.”

Randy grinned, deepening the kiss a little. “Sounds good. I’ve got plans.”

I laughed, heading out the flip the burgers. If nothing else, tonight promised to be a great night.

27

I settled myself once again in front of Jack’s grave. I had some time yet before the reunion since we’d left early and I asked Garrison if we could stop by the cemetery. I looked at his headstone, tracing his name, the dates, and then my name; it wouldn’t be long and I’d be here with him. The headstone was granite, square, and set flush with the ground, containing a picture of us and we’d had the names of our girls etched into it under our names.

“Jack, I don’t have long now, but I’ll come back tomorrow. I’m on my way to the reunion,” I said, fighting back tears; he should be coming with me. “Do you remember when we bought our headstone? We’d been saving for it, since we’d pre-paid our funerals and stuff and had to save a bit to get the headstone. We were driving by the place selling them and in the window was a big sign: ‘anniversary sale’! We laughed so hard but the next day, we went in and got what we wanted at 50% off. I just can’t help laughing still that the headstone place was having a sale. Not only that, but we took advantage.”

I laughed a bit, and it felt good to laugh. I’d swear I felt Jack’s arms around me and I leaned into his invisible touch.

“I have get going to Creighton now, Jack, but I’ll come back tomorrow. Katie and I are here for a total of six weeks, so I’ve got about five weeks to go. I love you.”

The invisible arms squeezed me and I sighed, placing a kiss to the stone. I moved to Garrison’s truck and felt butterflies come into my stomach. I knew that Tony and Annie were back for a visit and so were Randy and Hollister (they’d gone to Oklahoma to care for Randy’s mom), but I was nervous, you know?

“It’ll be okay,” Garrison assured me, as he took the exit for Omaha; I’d spaced out during the drive. “Will everyone be there?”

I nodded, sighing. “Everyone except Jack, of course.” It was bittersweet, really.

“I’m sure he’ll be there in spirit, though. He’d have loved this,” my friend assured me, as he pulled into the back parking lot of Creighton University Medical Center. My nerves were on fire now and I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Let’s go.”

I made sure I had my camera and then we walked into the ER. All at once, I was at home and I realized I never should’ve retired or left.

“Jimmy!”

I grinned as Hollister embraced me squeezing the air out of me. I couldn’t help the tears as I held her tight. I think we were all wishing we’d have never left, but it all had to end sometime.

“How the hell are ya?” she asked, as we parted.

“Hanging in there,” I responded, turning in time to be embraced by Sean. “Sean!”

He was crying, too, and this should tell you the kind of family we’d built up here in the ER. We worked together for over forty years, and all at once, we were retired and gone. When we parted, we both wiped our eyes and smiled.

“I've missed this place and you guys,” I said, as Tony came ambling up to me. He hadn’t changed a bit, minus the grey hair he had now. “Neighbor!”

The large black man engulfed me in a bone crushing hug and I returned it with the same force. More than ever I missed what we’d had out in the country, on our gravel, in the middle of nowhere. The neighbors that had become friends, the times we’d relied on each other for a ride to work, for babysitting, you name it.

“This feels right,” Tony mused, as we all moved toward the back elevator. He was right, it did. “This feels like it should. I love Mississippi and I love being near my daughter, her wife, and my two granddaughters, but Mondamin and Omaha, this is where we all belong. Why did we ever leave?”

I shrugged, as the elevator filled up and then moved to the main floor, where we’d filter into the conference room. “I think we left because, at the time, we’d convinced ourselves that it was right, you know? My doctors said go, you wanted to be closer to your daughter and Annie could get there what she needed, same as here. But part of me wishes we’d said ‘fuck it’ and stuck it out.”

Tony nodded, as the elevator opened and the first of our group filed out. “Perhaps. But then again, there’s part of me that wouldn’t trade what we did for anything. I want to come back, but right now, things are good down south and we don’t want to move again.”

“Same here,” I agreed, following him into the conference room. It hadn’t changed a bit; it was still beige, with beige chairs and a grey table set in the middle of the room. A flat screen TV graced one wall and behind closed solid oak cabinet doors was a marker board. “Some things never change.”

Tony laughed that big belly laugh that he was known for. “No, they sure don’t. The same food, too,” he pointed out, as we approached the refreshment table. “You know, we should all hang out tonight. We’ve all got hotels, right?”

I took a chocolate chip cookie (they home-make their cookies here and yum!), and then shook my head. “I’m staying with Garrison and Alise. Where should we go?”

“The farm,” Garrison said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Bring the girls, too, and Randy. I’ve just confirmed that Alise is okay with a cookout tonight, and anyone who over drinks can stay the night, no problem.”

That was settled, then, I knew, because no one said no to Alise. Besides, it was what I wanted; I just didn’t think it was polite to ask for it.

“It’ll be like old times,” Hollister remarked, handing me some coffee. “For now, let’s enjoy the company of old friends.”

Indeed, the room was quickly filling. After all, it wasn’t just for the ER; it was for all of Creighton. I recognized several faces but one was missing and it saddened me; we’d lost Dr. Mathias last year to old age, and I missed him. Of course, Jacoby was missing as well and for a moment, my eyes misted over. It was a good reunion but the faces we’d lost, their pictures displayed on a table covered in roses, dampened the mood just a little. Moving through the crowd, I took a moment to look at the table. Jacoby’s picture stared back at me and, for a moment, I swear he smiled at me.

***

“Remember when that girl plowed into Jack’s rig at 90 mph?” I asked, shaking my head. “Whatever happened to her?”

Tony shrugged, putting his empty beer bottle aside. It was past midnight now but no one was remotely tired. One beer each (hey, we’re getting old!) and now we had pop, and that meant a late night. Annie had long since drifted back to Omaha to sleep (her heart is new, but she still tires easily) and the rest of us were sitting outside, no spouses for a change, talking.

“I know she survived the crash, went to rehab because she was paralyzed from about the breast line down,” Hollister said, sitting back in her chair and stretching a bit. “But after that, I have no idea. Someone said she got a job at a local radio station, since she couldn’t be a nurse anymore, but I have no idea how true that is. Either way, it’s a wonder she lived. My ankle still bothers from that accident.”

“So does my leg,” Tony added, absently rubbing his leg. “I just hope she learned something from that incident. I certainly didn’t appreciate being plowed into in the rig.”

I nodded, remembering that phone call from Sean. We all dread that phone call and at least this time it hadn’t been because Jack was dead. “I’m just glad no one died in the rig. I was so terrified when I heard it on the radio and then Sean called; I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day.”

“Neither will any of us,” Racheal from dispatch said, shaking her head. “But we did have some fun in that ER. Remember the jokes we’d pull on each other?”

I started laughing, coughing a bit, and nodded. “We got Sean good one time, didn’t we?”

Our manager laughed, shaking his head, as we all dissolved into laughter. “You did get me good.”

“Did you really believe your husband was pregnant? Hadn’t he been tested and it was proven he had all boy parts and couldn’t get pregnant?” I asked, as Sean blushed. The fire was lighting his face nicely and I could see the redness from here. “I mean, with me, I had some girly bits inside me for baby making, but your husband did not. But you about fainted when he walked in with the fake stomach.”

“To be fair, we were in the process of adopting our daughter,” he sputtered out between laughs. “But I was pretty sure Aaron couldn’t get pregnant, and then he comes waddling into the ER, complete with stomach. I did fall for it for a moment, I confess. And you guys never lived that one down, either. Emelia still tells that story to her daughters now about how grandpa got fooled.”

I couldn’t help the belly laugh. “Then we done good,” I said, making him cringe. Emelia is a writing teacher and she’d have probably smacked me for my horrible grammar just them. “How are the grandkids?”

“Wonderful,” he said, smiling. “Alicia is seven now, and in second grade in Omaha and Mercer is five and in kindergarten. Both girls are healthy as can be and Emelia and her husband are thinking of having one more. But at her age, it’s doubtful they’ll get far.”

I nodded, thinking of my own grandkids. I’d spoken to them the other night and I missed them being out here.

“How are your grandkids, Jim?” Hollister asked, as she poked the fire a bit.

“Doing okay. Corey’s had some problems with drugs and drinking already and Ava keeps throwing her math book through a window and into the swimming pool, but otherwise, nothing big going on. It sounds like Corey might be headed to a summer camp in June for kids that are having problems. He doesn’t want to go, but it might be just what he needs. As for Ava, I’m not sure what they’re going to do with her. Apparently, she’s confessed that she’s getting bullied but she doesn’t want to change schools. So, it’s kind of up in the air right now.”

“It’s tough with kids sometimes. We want to help and be there, but we have to let our kids take care of things,” Tony said, opening a new Pepsi. “That’s how it is with Georgia, too. She and her wife have four kids and the youngest one is getting picked on a lot because he ‘looks different’. Well, he was adopted, so he’s white and the other kids are black. You’d think that, in this day and age, that wouldn’t matter, but it does, I guess; poor Parker gets picked on because he has three black sisters and two black moms. He’s soldiering through, but Georgia’s about ready to pull him into a different school.”

“How come they adopted one?” Sean P. asked, discarding his pop can. He reached for a water and cracked that open.

“They tried to get pregnant for a fourth time and it never took. It’s not as expensive these days for IVF, but it’s still not cheap. So, they exhausted their resources and had to give up. When a friend had to give up her baby because she’d had her other kids taken away, the girls stepped right up and adopted him.”

“That’s awesome. That’s how Cilla and Randi ended up with Ava; Garrison and his then-girlfriend couldn’t keep her, so my daughter and her wife adopted her and it was the same with Bethany.”

My friends all smiled for a moment as well no doubt thinking back over the years. I got a bottle of water from the cooler, as the fire started to die out; no doubt, we’d be wrapping things up here soon, even though we tried to make a night of it.

“How long are you all in town?” I asked, poking the last of the fire a bit.

“A couple of weeks,” Tony said, smiling. “You?”

“Six weeks total, so I’m here another three or so weeks yet. My memory is getting worse and I fear this might be my last trip up here.”

Sean P. frowned. “We’ll all be sure to come out there, too. We need to do this more often, no matter where we meet. I’d love to go to California.”

“You’re always welcome,” I reminded them, wishing I could stay here forever. “I wish I could come home, but I don’t think that’s going to be an option, with my health. But I will try not to be a stranger.”

As we let the fire die out and made our way off the decking for the pool, I sighed. Hugging everyone, I saw them off to their homes or hotels, all at once not even tired. I went to a hammock and laid down, wiping at my face.

“Oh Jack. Is this the last time I’m going to remember everyone?” I asked the star-filled sky. This morning, I’d forgotten who Alise and Katie were, nearly forgotten my meds and forgotten about tonight. Everyone was helpful, but I forget more and more things and I hear Jack more and more often. “Just don’t ever truly leave me.”

“I won’t.”

I nodded, closing my eyes, wondering what I’d forget when I woke up again. I felt someone lay in the hammock with me and cuddled into Jacoby’s familiar scent. Perhaps tonight I could join him in eternity and put myself out of my misery.

28

I looked at my son who, for once, looked ashamed of himself. After the incident with dad (who had to take the ticket for the accident but Corey paid it and the portion of repairs not covered by insurance), we thought that would wisen him up. Of course, it didn’t, and he’s sitting in our dining room as we figure out how often he had to mow for dad to pay back the fine for underage drinking…again.

“Corey, you’re going to be the death of me,” I told him, rubbing my face. “I had to cancel appointments today at work just to deal with your bullshit and I’m tired of it. When this semester ends, you’ll be at home for a couple of weeks and then you’re going to a summer camp for teens with problems. After that, when you get home two weeks later, you’re going to work your ass off between our house and those of your extended family. When you’re not doing supervised work, you’re going to be sitting with your dad and I or someone else if we’re working. You are not allowed to be alone, you are no longer allowed a phone or internet access. If you can shape up after camp, we’ll think about giving you some of those privileges back.”

“You’re a bitch!” he shouted, his words slurring ever so slightly. “You can’t fucking do that to me!”

I stood, my fists balling at my sides. I have never hit my children, but there’s a first time for everything. “Corey Dean Smithland, you are grounded for the remainder of the semester! Any money you earn from doing chores for others comes right to me and you get nothing, do you understand? You will treat me with respect because I am you mother, young man. I have had it up to here with you!”

I managed not to strike my son, even as he stood defiantly in front me, matching my height and anger. “I hate you,” he seethed and turned to leave, but I was quicker. “Let me go.”

“No. You’re going to get the help you need, young man, and I will not stop until you are back to normal. If your grandfather was here right now, he’d be so disappointed in you. As it is, I will be phoning him after our talk and you can tell him what you did this time.”

Lucky me, my dad was in Iowa for a couple more weeks. Katie said things were going well but since the reunion his memory has gotten worse. Apparently, the group from Creighton got together one more time after the initial reunion before everyone had to go back. She’s not sure how dad will be once they get home.

“No, sit your drunk ass in that chair and prepare to talk to your grandfather,” I spat, forcing my son into his chair. “Your dad will be home for lunch in about five minutes and he’s not going to be happy to hear about this.”

Corey flipped me off and I resisted the urge to break his finger. I’m told I inherited Jimmy’s temper and the violent urges that go with it. I’m not proud of that, but I’ve learned to keep things under control, at least. At this moment, however, control is very hard to have, because I want to slap my son silly.

“Don’t you ever do that again, young man. Now, sit tight while I call your grandfather.”

I quickly dialed dad’s number, hoping like hell this was one of his good days. We never know from day to day what his memory and moods will be like and if he’s having a bad day, I’m screwed.

“Hey Liza,” Katie answered and I frowned. “Your dad’s laying down. He’s having a so-so day and so he’s resting a bit. I guess he’s got one more supper with everyone before they all leave. That’s the glory of being retired, I guess, more open travel plans. What’s going on?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Corey. He got it for underage drinking again. I was going to have dad talk to him, but don’t worry about it. I can handle him, but he seems to listen to dad better than me. How’s dad been doing?”

I could visualize the shrug Katie gave, her typical response to the oft asked question. “Fine. I think he’s reluctant to come home, of course, but otherwise, he’s fine. He has his good days and his bad days, but so far, things seem pretty even, I think. We’ll see what happens when we get home. At least he’s sleeping inside again.”

I should mention that we damn near lost dad to sleep apnea a couple of nights ago. He laid down in one of his hammocks and fell asleep. This is a man who should *never* sleep without his CPAP machine and if Alise hadn’t had one of her “feelings”, he’d be dead. Now, there’s a mandatory ‘go find Jimmy’ at bedtime search so he gets inside to his machine.

“That’s good. Well, tell him I called, but if he’s busy, no worries. I’ve worked out punishment and everything and they can see each other when you get home.”

“Will do. Tell Corey we love him.”

I nodded, then hung up. Turning to my son, the smirk on his face quickly died. “I take it grandpa was busy?”

“Yes. But you’re not off the hook. Outside. Now. Get the mower.”

For once, my son didn’t balk, he just did as he was told. I grabbed some water and sunscreen and went out to make sure he did what he was supposed to do; I hated that I couldn’t trust my son anymore, but so be it. Settling into a lawn chair on the shaded porch, I watched him start mowing, pretty sure he muttered a curse upon me.

“Cuss me out all you want, kiddo,” I called as he passed the porch. “If you can’t behave, you don’t get any freedoms.”


Wisely, he put his hand down before he could extend his middle finger and kept mowing. We were going to nip this in the bud before it got worse and we were going to win this battle if it killed us.

***

There are things I know about my parents that I’m pretty sure they don’t know I know. One of those secrets are some videos of Jimmy that have remained well hidden no matter where they’ve lived. I stumbled upon them as a teenager, looking for something in the basement. As I was home alone at the time and knew my parents wouldn’t be home for some time, I put one in the VCR and watched it. It was a frightening video, and it drove home the struggles that Jimmy went through early in their marriage. As I got older, I found a friend who could transfer VHS to computers and I have kept those videos on DVDs for years without them knowing.

I never watch them, that one time was enough, but I’ve kept them as part of our family history. After all, these are personal, private videos whose purpose I don’t understand. But now, I’ve found a purpose for them and as much as it pains me to do it, I’m going to sit Corey down and make him watch a couple.

“Corey, please come into the family room,” I told him, as he sat on the couch, reading a book. He claims he’s bored with his punishment, which is now in its second week, but I told him to stop drinking to get unpunished. “I need to show you something.”

He groaned, but complied. After all, he’s in enough trouble as it is; he was caught smoking two days after he got it for minor in possession. I told him to settle onto the couch as I loaded the DVD, hoping this made an impact.

“I get a movie night? Finally, something exciting,” he mumbled, as I hit play. His eyes widened when he saw Jimmy on the screen. “What is this?”

“Your chance to see the light,” I told him, wishing I could shut this off.

Dad was on screen, standing over Jimmy in what appeared to be the ER at Creighton. Jimmy was having a full blown seizure, his entire body shaking and jerking. Doctors were shouting orders to the medics and nurses surrounding his bed, as they injected medication into him, attempting to stop the seizure. I felt bad making my son watch this, but what else could I do? He needed to learn a lesson.

“Jacoby, you should step out,” a doctor said, on the video. “This shouldn’t be videotaped and you are too close to the situation. He probably won’t make it the night. Heroine is a dangerous drug and he’s been lucky in the past; he’s not going to be so lucky tonight.”

But my dad stubbornly shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving him and he will make it the night. He’s overdosed before on heroine, he’ll be fine.”

The doctor shook his head, but stopped arguing as Jimmy launched into another seizure. Afterward, he must’ve thrown up half his body weight, all while unconscious. Then, he was still, as a long, loud whine filled the room.

“Call a code!” the doctor shouted as the camera was quickly moved out of the way.

I haven’t seen my son cry in a long time. But watching his grandfather almost die on a DVD certainly did the trick. When the code resolved and dad was living again, the video ended and I clicked it off, standing to get another one.

“I don’t want to watch another one,” he pleaded with me, but I knew one wouldn’t do it. “Please, mom, I get it.”

I shook my head, putting disc number two in the player. I rejoined my son, hoping this was going to be worth it. Dad was in Iowa another week, and I could hide these again after that. Or, perhaps it’d be better if he knew I had them. I still didn’t know why they were made, but that wasn’t my concern.

On screen, dad and Jacoby were smiling, as they waved to the camera in the yard at the farm. I found myself missing home and wondered if a vacation later this summer would be in the cards.

“Okay, for the purpose of never forgetting today, I bought a video camera. This thing is so cool and it’s so small!” Jacoby exclaimed, a huge smile on his face. “Okay, Jim, go ahead!”

I watched as Jimmy waved to the camera, walking forward with something in hand. I recognized it immediately and realized what this video was for: remembering when things got bad.

“I did it! I made it a year sober. This is my one year sober coin. I hope to get many, many more of these,” Jimmy exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “And to future Jimmy: if you aren’t watching this sober, shame on you. Get sober, because it’s a great feeling. Get clean, because it’s worth it. You’ll have this amazing husband and this amazing farm and one hell of an amazing job.”

The video ended there and I clicked it off, getting up for another one. Even I was crying now, knowing full well that Jimmy would battle drugs and alcohol three more times after that video was made. How he’d survived all those years was beyond me. I grabbed another DVD and popped it in, returning to my horrified son. I hate scaring him, but it worked for Cilla (they don’t know that I know she’s seen these movies), and hopefully it will work for my son.

“Jimmy, do you know who I am?” an angry Jacoby asked, as the camera pointed on dad. He looked horrible, strung out, pale, and shaking. “Do you?”

“N-no. I mean, ye-yes. You’re Jacoby. My Jack.”

“Damn right. And your Jack in super angry right now. Here’s the deal, Jim: you get clean and sober or this marriage is OVER! I can’t take it anymore, Jimmy, I can’t! You want a family, you want this and that, but you don’t want to give up your fucking habits to get it. Now, get in the truck so I can haul your ass to rehab for the last time! And if it doesn’t take this time, we’re through!”

Corey looked over at me before he bolted from the room. I followed him, concerned, as he ran out the door. I managed to stop him before he got on his bike, but he wrenched himself from my grasp and got on his bike before I could stop him.

“Corey, come back right this instant!” I shouted, but he was faster than me and I watched as he rode to his friend Gerald’s house. Marcia, Gerald’s mom, looked down at me before letting him in. “Corey!”

Marcia came over to me, concern on her face as I screamed at my son. “What’s wrong?”

“I tried to scare him straight and he ran away,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know what’s wrong; he’s breaking punishment.”

She nodded, drawing me into a hug. “I think you just scared him, that’s all. What’d you do?”

“I showed him some videos of my dad when he was using. They’re kind of graphic and kind of scary.”

She nodded, but I knew she disagreed with my methods. “Well, it might’ve worked, but for now, let him be at my house. I know that’s breaking the rules, Eliza, but he’s terrified, I could see that in his eyes. Give him the night and then we’ll talk, okay?”

I nodded, as we headed back into our homes. I hope I did the right thing, but I’m starting to question my methods. I’m not giving up on my son, though, and if this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will.

29

“I wanna ride on the end!”

Oh how I hate whiny toddlers. And it doesn’t help when their older sister is egging them on, either. Why we thought having kids two and a half years apart was a good idea, I’ll never know. If we have any more, we’re waiting a good four years.

As it is, I’m in Baker’s with Eliza, who is six, and her sister Priscilla, who is four. I remember the toddler years with Eliza; she was very calm, easy going, it was the threes and fours that were a problem. But Cilla went through the terrible twos, the trying threes and now it’s the fearsome fours. I really didn’t want to bring them both to the store but if one gets to stay with Grandpa Hank, they both want to stay, and he’s slowing down as he gets older.

“It is Cilla’s turn, Eliza,” I said, as I got a cart out. Why can’t this store have the cars and other two kid carts like the other stores? “Cilla, if you don’t stop whining, we’ll go right straight home.”

She looked at me as if she was considering her options. She’s only four but she’s very strong willed and knows how to push buttons. While we’re very proud of our intelligent kids, we also understand that being that smart come with problems.

“Yeah, it’s my turn,” Cilla sneered and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. We haven’t even gotten into the store yet and they’re already fighting. “You have to walk!”

Eliza started to cry and I counted to ten, lest I scream at them in the entry way. “I don’t wanna walk!”

“Eliza Eleanor Shaddix you are six god damn years old! You can walk in the store! Priscilla June Shaddix you are being a complete terrorist right now and if I have to yell at you one more time, we’re going home!”

Great. Now both girls are crying. It’s going to be a long shopping trip, isn’t it?

“Where’d you go?” Katie asked, as we sat on the plane bound for Los Angeles. I already regretted leaving Iowa, but I didn’t have a choice right now.

“Nowhere, why?” I asked, confused. My brain has been a bit foggy lately, and I know things are getting worse. “Did I space out again?”

My sister nodded, and while she smiled, I could see how troubled she was. I think she’s struggling with not only the still-recent loss of her husband, but my problems as well as Corey’s. She told me about his recent problems and we’ve added running away from home to that list. I feel for my kids and I wish there was more I could do. Just as Ava settles down again, Corey acts up; I’m at a loss. I’m almost afraid for Corey to settle down; another window might break from a math book.

“You did,” she finally said, turning to look out the plane window. We were approaching Los Angeles and I sighed; I wasn’t home, not really, but it was home for now. “I’ve grown used to it, though.”

I took her hand, trying to comfort her. We’d always been close and I didn’t want to lose that now. “But I’m still here, Katie. I’m always going to be here. I’m just having more moments.”

We buckled up, making sure everything was put away, as the plane began to land. Katie sighed, her eyes still glued outside the plane. She’s never lived anywhere but Huntington Beach and to her that’s home. I swallowed a bit as the plane finally landed, then stood.

“Come on, sis,” I told her, gently punching her arm just for fun. “We can talk on the way home.”

She nodded and that’s when I noticed the tears rolling down her face.

***

“I’ll stay tonight; you need a break.”

My husband looked up at me and nodded, standing. I hugged him, giving him a quick kiss, before he gathered his overnight bag and left. Our daughter Eliza had come down with pneumonia and was on her second night in the hospital. It sucked having a five year old in the hospital, esp. with a little one still at home.

“Where’s Cilla?” he asked, yawning.

“With Hank,” I told him, and he nodded, as I settled into the bedside chair. “How you feeling, Liza?”

She shrugged, coughing. Some kids are still energetic when sick, but not this kid. If she’s energetic, she’s not sick; she’s sick right now. I nodded, settling in with a book as her nurse came to check on her and start her antibiotic once again. There’s concern that she’s caught my asthma, so to speak, so the doctor really wants to follow up with her to make sure this is just a freak occurrence.

“Yucky,” she said, adjusting a bit in bed. “I feel yucky.”

“That’s understandable; that’s how I feel with pneumonia as well. Just rest and we’ll watch a movie or something okay?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and heading to sleep. Someone from respiratory came and put a mask over her nose and mouth for a breathing treatment and I settled in to read for a bit. It promised to be a long night, as I never sleep in hospitals. Of course, I’ll lay down on the provided roll out bed, but there’s not a chance I’ll sleep and if I do, it won’t be very good sleep. But we’re going to be at our daughter’s side no matter what, until she’s well.

“Her sats are maintaining better,” her nurse said, after respiratory therapy had left for the night. “And we’ll see how her chest x-ray is in the morning, but she’s getting better.”

I nodded, and thanked her for the information. I returned to my book, wondering how parents survived before technology. When she’s awake, she has a laptop to play on, DVDs to watch, etc., and when she’s up to it, there’s a toy room and everything. She won’t be bored, that’s for sure. Looking over at my daughter, I sighed, standing and stretching. I kissed her warm cheek, then went in to brush my teeth and take my meds. I needed to try and sleep so I was refreshed to see her doctor in the morning. Hopefully, there would be some good news.

I blinked, noting that we were back at dad’s house. Katie had dried her eyes, but she looked upset. Our sister Kelly pulled into the driveway and I noticed the lawn and gardens had been well kept in my absence. As the three of us entered our childhood home, I noticed the concern on Katie’s face seemed to deepen.

“Has anyone stayed here while we’ve been gone?” she asked, as I looked around. The place looked lived in, which surprised me.

“Not to my knowledge,” Kelly said, shrugging. “I came over every day and got the mail, Corey mowed the lawn—“

“Oh. You’re home.”

Well, there’s our tenant. Corey froze on the steps, a guilty look plastered all over his face. Katie took out her phone and dialed Eliza while I looked at my grandson.

“How long have you been here without me and Thad knowing?” Kelly asked, her voice hard. Everyone is tired of Corey’s antics and this isn’t going to help at all.

“Just yesterday and today. I-I wanted to get away.”

“Your mother is worried,” I told him, seeing Cilla in him more and more. “She called us last night, freaking out because you were gone. You weren’t at Gerald’s house and you didn’t answer your phone. You worried everyone, Corey, and this isn’t part of your punishment. What caused you to run this time? And did you bring any drugs or alcohol into the house?”

“She scared me. And no, I didn’t. After watching those damn movies, I’ve decided it’s not worth the headache.”

Movie? I looked at my grandson in askance, wondering just what movies his mother had shown him. Before I could ask, Eliza and Clayton burst through the door, both angry.

“Corey Dean Smithland!” Clayton boomed, and his son jumped. “Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”

He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention he was getting. “I’ve been here. Being free. You know, like I should be able to be. Because I’m sure not free at home. I have a door on my bedroom here. And furniture. And TV time and everything else.”

“You are in a lot of trouble, young man. You get into that car right fucking now,” Eliza growled but I put up a hand to stop them.

“What movies, Corey?”

I swear Eliza almost fainted. I was starting to wonder if there was something I didn’t know about here.

“Your movies, grandpa,” he said, a bit smugly. Eliza certainly looked like she wanted melt through the floor. “Movies that she thought would scare me off drugs and drinking. And it worked, for the record mom.”

I turned to my daughter, the gears in my sluggish brain starting to move. I know Jacoby made some home movies of me at the height of my drug use, but we hid those. He did it to remind me why I stay clean and sober and they work wonders. But I know we hid those after we used them on Cilla before she agreed to go into rehab.

“Liza?” I asked, looking over at my daughter. Her face was a mess of emotions and I didn’t know how to feel . “What is he talking about? The private movies your dad made? We hid those, so that you guys could never find them. I didn’t want you guys to see them. Cilla saw them because she needed to, so how did you get them?”

She turned to face the door, but I turned her back. We’ve never had secrets and this hurt; she’d been hiding something from me for a long time, it seemed.

“I honestly just found them, dad. I was downstairs when I was fourteen or so, looking for a box of my stuff and I found them. You guys were at work, it was summer and Cilla was out with friends. I watched one, just one, and that was enough. A friend put them on his computer and then DVD for me and I don’t know why I kept them. But I thought showing Corey what you went through might help drive home the point that he needs to quit now.”

I could hardly argue with that, but what she’d done was still wrong. “You’re right, it might help. But keeping this secret from me all these years wasn’t right, Eliza. I thought someone had been into them, because I went downstairs a few days after you and the box was rearranged a little. I didn’t think much of it; I just wish you’d been up front about this, hon.”

“I’m sorry. But it appears to have worked, which may not make what I did then right, but it justifies it in a strange way right now. Either way, you’re still in trouble, young man.”

“We’re not done,” I told her, and she glanced at me. “I’m angry, Eliza, that you kept this from me all these years. Clearly, punishment now would be out of line; you’re a grown adult. But is there anything else I should know?”

She shook her head, shame clear in her eyes. “No, dad, I promise, nothing else.”

I nodded, hoping I could trust her. “And how many movies did you see?”

Corey sighed. “Two. It was enough and then I bolted for Gerald’s house. I stayed there for a few days, went home, then came here. I don’t like being punished for this stuff. I know I screwed up, but honestly, they take things too far, grandpa. Their punishments are unfair.”

I nodded, sighing. “Truly, their punishment are very fair, Corey. You don’t have to like them, but they are fair. And running away isn’t the answer, either. You need to go home with your family and take whatever they give you. Then, we will talk.”

I watched as they all left, then turned to my sisters. Kelly smiled, though it was a tight smile; had I done something wrong? I felt like I couldn’t win all at once and I needed Jacoby now more than ever.

30

The sound of a train whistle after a storm always makes me smile. Growing up in rural Iowa, it is the sound I most associate with my childhood. And now, as I listen to that same sound, laying in my old bedroom, I smile; it’s just like when I was growing up.

You might wonder what I’m doing out at the farm. The kids are out of school now and Randy and I decided to take a short stop in Iowa on our way to our vacation in Tennessee. Alise wouldn’t allow us to get a hotel, of course, so we’re staying at the farm. We arrived early this morning and spent most of the day relaxing from the jetlag. The kids loved getting to play outside and I myself went around with my camera.

Being summer, Ava has settled down immensely. She’s worked hard to pay back the window and earned her camera back finally. She’s kept it protectively close since and I can sort of understand. Of course, just as Ava settles, Corey starts up; I’m starting to think they’re conspiring against us or something. Turning over a bit, I watched the moon out the window and smiled; it was big and bright tonight, something I’ve missed living in California.

I have some amazing storm pictures from earlier tonight and I put them in an email to dad right away. Southern California doesn’t get a lot of storms and I know he misses them. In the three weeks since he returned from Iowa, he hasn’t been the same. He’s more forgetful and he’s getting a little angry and combative. Katie is holding up, but we’re all going over more to give her breaks from caring for him. He had a checkup right before we came out here and the doctor said the medication was pointless now, so he stopped it.

“Sleep.”

That’s Randi, talking in her sleep as usual. For as tired as I am, I can’t sleep for some reason. It’s only ten back home (that’s odd to say, lying in my childhood home), and I’m normally still awake at that time. Randi can sleep anywhere, anytime, and I envy her that. Of course, she can also direct me to get to sleep without ever opening her eyes.

With a sigh, I turned over, closed my eyes and concentrated on sleeping. Of course, I’m as bad as Jimmy, so I finally got up. Alise still has dad’s hammocks around, and I grabbed a book and headed out. I checked on the girls on the way and they were sound asleep downstairs, and I nodded; they are good sleepers and I’m grateful for that.

Settling into a hammock a few minutes later, I clicked on my book light and started reading. Jimmy and I used to spend a lot of time out here when I was growing up. We’d talk, read, sleep, relax, or he’d lecture me on my poor choices. When I finally got clean and sober and graduated from college, we sat out here talking about everything and nothing. It’s one of my favorite memories and I cherish it.

“It’s going to happen soon, you know.”

I looked up, confused, but smiled when I saw Jacoby. Tearing up, I grabbed him into a tight hug, so glad to feel those familiar arms around me once again. After a moment we sat back on the hammock and he ran a hand through his dark hair.

“What’s going to happen, dad?” I asked, putting my book aside.

He looked up into the night sky, as the stars twinkled above us. “Your dad. I don’t know when, but he’s not long for this earth. He’s getting worse, isn’t he?”

I nodded, wiping at my face. I wasn’t ready to lose my dad. We just lost Jacoby a bit over ten months ago and that was hard enough.

“He is, but can’t he stay for a while?” I begged, and Jacoby shrugged.

“It’s not up to me, Cilla. But listen: have fun in Tennessee. I promise it will be the best time of your life. When you get home, spend time with your dad, okay? I miss you and I love you.”

I held him as tight as I could, trying not to cry. It was so great to have my dad hug me again, and to see him after this time. He looked like I remembered him growing up: healthy, young, fit. I couldn’t bear to let go.

“Honey? Honey, wake up.”

“I have to go, but remember what I said.”

With that, dad was gone and I woke up to find Randi standing over me concerned. Without a word, I drew her into a hug, sobbing onto her shoulder.

***

Before we left for Tennessee, I told the family I needed some time to myself at the cemetery. After breakfast our last morning in Iowa, I walked the two miles to the place that houses my dad and my adoptive grandparents. I never met Eleanor, but through the stories I’ve heard, we’d have gotten along very well.

Settling into the thick green grass in front of dad’s headstone, I sighed, brushing a bit of dust from it.

“Dad, I don’t know what that dream was last night, but I hope you were kidding.”

I looked around, feeling eerily like I wasn’t alone, but I shrugged it off. It’s a cemetery; of course I’m not alone. But when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I knew it was my dad.

“I’m not ready to lose Jimmy, dad, I’m not. Losing one parent is hard enough; I can’t lose you so close together. He was finally getting himself together, you know? But now he’s fading so fast. I spoke to Katie a bit ago and she said dad’s in a state right now. He can’t remember her and she’s had to get Matt over there to help. He seems to remember Matt, and we don’t know why. He’s going to have to go into a home soon, dad, and I don’t want that for him.”

I sighed, rubbing my face, looking at the headstone before me. It wouldn’t be long, I knew, and Jimmy’s final date would be filled in.

“He told me once that he wants to get his memory care here at home. But I know that he can’t come back, not with his health. I hate to let him down, but Katie is helping us research nursing homes in California. He can be close to all of his current specialists like he should be. I know you’re shaking your head, telling me to do what dad wants, but it’s not that simple, you know? We need to be nearby should something happen and we can’t just hop a plane to Omaha.”

I could just see my dad gesticulating at me, telling me to grant dad his final wish. But I couldn’t; he needed to stay close to us.

“So, I hope you understand what we have to do. I’ll have a blast in Tennessee and will spend a lot of time with dad when we get home, promise. And when the time comes, he’ll be on a plane bound for Omaha.”

With that, I stood, leaving a rose from their rose bush behind, and walked home. It was going to be a hot summer, I could tell, but I enjoyed my journey. Tonight, we’d get on a plane bound for Nashville, for our vacation, and I just hoped dad was still going to be home when we returned.

***

Jacoby was right: Nashville was the time of our lives. The kids had so much fun, Randi has a friend there who watched the kids a couple of times so we could go out; it was the best vacation we’d ever had. But now we were home and back to reality, and reality meant that dad had gone quickly while we were gone and Katie just couldn’t care for him anymore.

Walking into Memories by the Ocean I sighed, nodding to the various staff and patients scattered around the lobby. The one story building housed about forty patients and was nicely appointed to feel like a home. But to me it smelled and looked like a nursing home, and I didn’t want my dad here.

“Hello, Pricilla,” Jackie, one of the charge nurses, greeted me. “He’s just back from breakfast and getting a shower. Today seems to be a good day for him, and he hasn’t been combative.”

“Thanks,” I said, meandering down to room 204, a private room at the end of ‘long hall’, as it was called. I settled into his recliner, the one he’d brought from Iowa, and waited for his return.

“Jimmy, looks like you have a visitor,” a perky voice announced and I frowned; they were treating my dad like a baby. “It’s your daughter.”

“Don’t speak to my dad like he’s a baby,” I snapped, and the aide recoiled a bit. “He’s a grown man.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she muttered, helping dad sit down on the bed. “Let’s get—“

“I’ll do it.”

Swallowing, the woman left the room, and I got dad’s comb. There was a chart near the sink and I could see that he’d already brushed his teeth for the day. I grabbed his deodorant as well and returned to the room.

“He’s here.”

I nodded, as I combed his hair, then helped him get the deodorant on. “Who’s here, dad?” I asked, placing the items on his bedside table. I sat next to him and hugged him.

“She’s here.”

Shrugging, I let him talk, figuring he had no idea I was even here. He’s been like that lately, and it’s so hard to watch him decline.

“It’s a girl,” he said, smiling. “We named her Eliza Eleanor. Yes, mom, she’s fine.”

It’s weird how his memories come about now. His doctor thinks he lives in his memories now and might not even be aware that we’ve placed him in a home. I kind of hope that’s the case because he’d never forgive us for this, I’m sure of that.

“Ava’s doing well in dance,” I told him, more to make conversation than anything. “And Bethany is doing well with piano lessons. Oh, and Marg says hi. She’s doing well also, and coming to visit next month. We’re going to get another cat as well.”

“I like cats,” dad said, looking at me. “And tell Marg she needs to come see me. It’s kind of lonely in this place. I miss Iowa, I miss the farm, your dad, everyone. I want to go home, Cilla.”

I bit my lower lip, trying to gain control of my emotions. “I want you to come home, too, dad,” I said, holding him. His eyes were clear and he was completely with me.

“They’re nice to me here,” he said in that matter of fact way that he had. “I can’t complain. Though I don’t like Gigi, the girl you snapped at. My bad days are every day now, but I have good, clear moments. I know my time is coming soon, Cilla, so do me a favor? Make sure everything is in place. Do it now, while I can answer questions.”

I nodded, taking a paper from my purse. “Eliza and I just did that, actually. You’ll have the Creighton Honor Guard, the ambulance instead of the hearse. You’ll be buried in the suit you picked out, with your pins from work and your sobriety pins. It will be non-denominational and you’ll be buried with dad, of course, in Iowa.”

He nodded, blinking a bit. “Good, then everything is in order. I’m going to miss you guys, you know. I feel so bad for how poorly I treated people lately. But it’s the dementia. I regret how I got here, and I’m so glad you cleaned up your life. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

I nodded, holding my dad tight. “I know, dad. But things are ready when you are. Just stick around a little longer, okay? It’s only been ten months without dad and I’m not ready to lose you, too.”

He nodded at me, kissing my temple, before he pulled me up. “Let’s walk the garden. I have a flower bed all my own and I can’t wait to show it to you.”

Smiling, I followed him, wishing the old Jimmy could stick around forever.

31

I tried to walk in a straight line, although after this many drinks that’s almost impossible. Life had gone downhill considerably tonight. My dealer, for whom I’d started working, decided to skip town without me, and I’m stuck with no product and lots of angry customers. I managed to find a new dealer to work with, but my customers had moved on by then.

My only refuge was The Hayloft, a bit of a rundown bar in Council Bluffs, Iowa. The bar tender knew I wasn’t of age, but he served me anyway, accepting any number of my fake IDs. Now, pumped on alcohol and fueled by anger and rage, I stumbled out of the bar.

“There he is.”

Well, fuck. I tried to run, but I wasn’t fast enough and before I knew it, a fist crashed into my face. I tried to fight back, but I was too drunk.

“Dad?”

I looked over to the door of the private room I had. I hate nursing homes, but I guess this was the best they could do.

“Hey Liza,” I said, blinking. Today, I’m having a lucid moment, and I’m going to enjoy it. “Hey Corey.”

My grandson nodded at me, his face a little pale. He’d just returned from summer camp, a camp for kids battling drugs and alcohol and he looked better clean. Rhiannon was behind him and Marianna behind her.

“Come on in, guys. Who wants ice cream?”

That got my grandkids to smile and I took them to the cafeteria. I’m an expert at the soft serve machine and made perfect cones for everyone. Sitting at one of the many tables around, I was glad for this visit.

“How’s summer going?” I asked, knowing that school started in two weeks.

“Too fast,” Rhi complained, working through her ice cream. “But it’s been fun. We went to Iowa for two weeks.”

“I know, I loved the pictures,” I said, smiling. It was bittersweet to think I wouldn’t be going to Iowa until my passing. “Did you know that my friends from Iowa were here a couple weeks ago? I got to leave this building with them, which was a lot of fun.”

“Did you take them swimming?” Mari asked and I nodded. “Cool! Can we go to the beach, grandpa? Will you come along?”

“As long as the nurses don’t care,” I said, as I finished my treat. One thing about this place: anything you want, you can pretty much have. “Did you bring beach gear?”

“We did,” Eliza said, handing out napkins to the kids and myself. “Let me check with your nurse and then we’ll go.”

I have not spoken to my daughter for exactly one year. We had a falling out and while I see her around town, we never speak. She’s having problems and I, her father, am not there for her. When my husband threw her out, I should’ve stood up for her, defended her, but I didn’t.

Why?

I don’t know. If might’ve been how angry my husband was. It may be that I was at the end of my rope with her. She was high, she was drunk, and she was ready to fight. We made it clear she could not enter our home until she cleaned up. When she and Jacoby started screaming at each other, I took his side instead of hers.

So now I’m stuck with the guilt of my decision. I’ve been where she is and everyone turned their backs on me. I swore I’d never do that to my kids. But that’s the first thing I did; I turned my back on my child. I did what I said I’d never do. I never stood up for her.

“That was fun, grandpa. I wish you lived with us,” Corey said, hugging me before we sat down. I had no idea how I’d gotten here or what we’d done, but I nodded anyway.

“Me, too, honey, but it can’t be.” I glanced at Katie, who looked ashamed, and took her hand. “You all did the right thing.”

I looked out our backdoor and sighed; it must be a full moon.

“Jimmy, come inside before you catch your death of cold.”

My husband shook his head, his blue eyes stubborn. “That’s an old wives tale.”

“Yeah, but with your lungs, it’s reality. Now come in. I’m sure you’ve gotten enough amazing pictures of the moon.”

His face falling, my husband trudged inside, stamping the snow from his boots. I loved our old farmhouse, five miles north of town on seven miles of gravel. I could do without the Iowa winter, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“See?” He’d started to cough already. “If you miss anymore work this month, Sean’ll have your hide in a sling.”

Wheezing, he shook his head at me, as we retreated into the living room. I settled into my recliner, reaching across the oak lamp table for his hand.

“I love you, Jacoby. But you can be a pain in my arse at times,” he complained, firing up his nebulizer. “You know I love the outdoors.”

“I do. And I also know it’s ten degrees right now, which your lungs don’t like.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, as the medication started to ease his breathing. “Maybe I won’t share my photos with you.”

I laughed, since I knew he was bluffing; next to being an EMT, photography was his thing and he was damn good at it. “You wouldn’t. I know you, Jimmy.”

He was speechless and I laughed. I know him all too well.

“I’m sorry we put you here, dad,” Eliza said, quietly. “We should’ve just tried harder to keep you at home.”

“Don’t worry any longer,” I told her, squeezing her hand. “On my worst days, no one can handle me, even the professionals out here. This is where I need to be, like it or not.”

She nodded, leaning back and crossing her legs. “The kids had a great time today, dad. They love having you over.”

I smiled. “I had fun, too. But Eliza, will you make me a promise?”

She looked at me, and nodded. “Sure.”

“When I’m getting close to time, take me home. Take me back to the farm, and let me die at home. I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to go like Jack did at a store. I want to be at the farm, where I belong.”

I could see the conflict in my daughter’s bright blue eyes.

“We’ll make that happen, dad,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “But I hope that’s not for a very, very long time.”

***

I was up at four the day of the funeral. I don’t know why, because nothing started until 10. She wanted a one day affair, so the viewing was from 10-noon, lunch, then the service at 1330. After that, she’d be cremated and in a few days, we’d all have a bit of Eleanor with us. But at 0400 on August 18th, 2010, I found myself wide awake and out in the yard. I was pulling weeds, and if it hadn’t been so early, I was going to mow. Jacoby had done a good job on the yard, but it still lacked my touch.

I was on my hands and knees in the flower garden. Sure, we have tools for this, but I needed some hard labor. I was going to pull every weed out by hand today and I’d be done in time for breakfast at Eleanor’s at eight. I just needed to take my mind off things for a while.

“Jimmy, what are you doing out here?” a voice asked, and I looked up, startled, to see my mother. I pulled the headphones from my ears and sat back on the brick border around the bed. “It’s 0430, hon, come back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep,” I said, drawing my knees to my chest. The antibiotic and stronger nebulizer treatment seemed to be working. “I got up for a treatment and I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I decided to stay up. The garden needs tending.”

She sat down beside me and held me to her side. She smelled liked mom: sweet, with a bit of a sweat smell, but it worked. Eleanor had smelled the same and I think it’s a mom smell. She was rubbing my shoulder, and I admit that over the last couple of days, I’ve wondered why this gesture feels so good.

“The way Eleanor went is for the best,” she said, and I nodded, knowing that everyone was right. “What was your relationship with her?”

“She was a mom to me,” I said, and my mother nodded. I sighed, looking up at the stars scattered across the sky and I swear one twinkled right at me. I leaned my head on mom’s shoulder and sighed. “When Jacoby and I first moved in here, shortly after we met, I had no family. I’d met Jacoby’s mom, but that was it. We started to get to know our neighbors, mostly as we worked with them. Anthony is a couple miles north, and a few other co-workers live around here. Jacoby was working outside one day when an older man came down to ask if he could borrow some gas for his truck, since his wife had let it run down again.

“Coby took the gas can up the gravel a mile and met Hank and Eleanor. I was down with something or other at that time. I was still recovering from the beating, rape, and overdose, and I wasn’t doing so hot. When I felt better, we walked up there together, and that started something more than a friendship. Over time, Eleanor heard my entire story; she said it wasn’t right for me not to have any real family. She and Hank adopted me, unofficially. But if you look at their family pictures for the last 12 years, I’m in them. Even after we found you guys, they continued to see me as their son; they only have Edgar, since his sister Mable died when she five. She got hit by a car on the gravel and never woke up. To them, Jacoby and I were their sons, and they treated us like such.”

I realized, then that mom was crying and I felt bad; I’m sure I’ve hurt her feelings with this story. I sighed, running my hands over my face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I said, feeling horrible. What mother wants to hear that she’s been replaced?

“No, it’s not that,” she said, and I was confused. “I’m glad someone was there for you all those years. Your father and I were often advised to give up the search and after about five years, we gave in. We had a memorial service for you and got a headstone put next to ours. But somehow, I didn’t believe in what we were doing. I had a feeling you were out here somewhere and that someone was taking care of you. I don’t feel replaced, I feel relieved that Eleanor and Hank have been there for you. It’s been a great two years of being reunited, but we can’t possibly do in two years what Hank and Eleanor have done in 12.”

“You’re not mad?” I asked, and she shook her head.

“No, I’m not mad. You’ve lost the woman who was your mother for the last 12 years Jimmy,” she said, holding me tighter. “I lost my mother eight years ago, and I understand your pain. Mom’s are meant to be immortal, but we’re not. For you, losing Eleanor is an especially hard blow, because she’s all you’ve had for years. But I want to be there now, too, okay? I know we talk and you confide in me, but I know that Eleanor always knew more.”

The memory of saying goodbye to my daughter will haunt me forever. Even though I was still mostly under anesthesia and certainly under the influence of morphine, I remember holding Penelope Marcella after she passed away. It has been three days and I’m now holding an urn, filled with her ashes, as I sit up in a bed in ICU. I can’t put the purple and silver angel down, as much as it pains me to hold it. There’s a saying that no parent should have to bury their children; I’m feeling that very strongly now. I know that Eleanor will take good care of her, but it’s not the same as having her here with us. I keep gazing at the picture of her on the front; someone was kind enough to capture her few moments on earth for us.

“It’s time, Jim.”

I raised my head and looked into my dad’s blue eyes, which matched my own. He offered his arm and I took it, allowing him to lead me from my office. My black suit fit my mood, as we walked out into the backyard. At least we didn’t have to go far. We weren’t going to spread her ashes or anything, either, just have a small service for her. Then, her urn would go on our mantel so that we could remember her whenever we walked into the living room. A friend of Eleanor’s was going to say a few words for us at the service, since neither of us felt strong enough to do it on our own.

“It was a beautiful service,” Penny said, taking my hand. “It really was. And I love my tree. I’m a bit of an outdoor geek.”

I smiled at my daughter, amazed at how much she’d grown in 36 years. “I’m glad you liked it. I've missed you, Penny.”

She stood from my bed at the farm, pulling me to my feet. “Alise will find you soon and call my sisters. There are a lot of people who want to see you, but someone in particular asked to rain on my parade.”

I looked up, hopeful, then ran into Jack’s arms. “Jack!”

Jacoby grinned, holding me tight. I felt like I was twenty five again, as I kissed him passionately. “I love you, Jimmy. I’m so glad you finally decided to join me. It’s been a long fucking year without you. And look at our daughter!”

I stood back, looking again at Penny. She had bright blue eyes, was rail thin, and had reddish/brown hair that went to her waist. In short, we’d have had a hell of a time telling her and Cilla apart.

“I love you, Penny.”

I took both their hands and we walked forward to the porch on the farm, where more family waited for me. It pained me to leave everyone behind, but I knew I was going to be happy with Penny, Jacoby, and “Mom!”

Eleanor and my mother both turned, and both ran to embrace me. It was a family reunion in the afterlife and I could not be happier.

32

I’m not kidding when I say we found dad with a smile on his face. I don’t know what compelled me to go check on him before work, but I was glad I did, in a way. Looking down at him, as he lay still on his bed, already cold, I shook my head.

“You would die with a smile on your face.”

I’d called Priscilla, of course, and the others. The paramedics were a formality as they would simply take him right to the funeral home. No one was surprised that he’d lasted exactly a year without dad.

“Hey guys.”

I hugged Marg as she met us at the gate. Priscilla and her family were right behind us, as the rest of our California family filtered in behind us. Somehow, we’d all managed to get the same flight. Dad would be met by the local funeral home and taken for funeral prep. I was sad but at the same time, I was relieved. His last days weren’t much fun and this was what he needed to be at peace.

“Are you staying at the farm?” she asked, as we moved out the doors. We were headed for the car rental place and I nodded. “I’ll follow you out there, then.”

Once we had our vehicles and had them loaded, we moved through the familiar roads to home. While you couldn’t pay me to leave California, I do sometimes think about retiring to the farm. I always wonder if it will come back into our family or continue on in Alise’s family instead.

“How are you?” Alise asked when we pulled up, coming to meet us. “All things considered.”

“I’m good. It’s not easy, but I know he’s in a better place, as the cliché goes.”

She nodded, as she and her husband helped us get the cars unloaded. The kids would all sleep downstairs again while I headed upstairs to my parent’s room. It felt so wrong to sleep in the room I was banned from as a kid, but it beat sleeping downstairs.

“Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, it was no problem. I don’t want you to be strangers either,” she admonished our entire group as we gathered for a late lunch. “What time do you need to be at the funeral home?”

“Not until four,” I said, checking the calendar on my phone. “We’ll be there for about an hour or two, I suppose, then we’ll come back here to eat. From there, I don’t know what we’ll do. I want to go see Monet’s mom while we’re home and go see Jacoby, of course. Anyone know when the Creighton crew are coming in?”

Alise nodded, as she indicated we should sit down. “Everyone will be here between this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Tony emailed me with all the flight times and other information. They’ve got a block of rooms at the hotel in Missouri Valley. They’d like to have a get together out here just like we did for Jacoby, and I said I’d be happy to host.”

It was complete déjà vu at this point, I swear; except, of course, I was burying the last of my parents, who literally couldn’t live without each other. Sighing, I made myself a sandwich, helping Mari with hers as well. Clayton squeezed my leg, and I knew we’d make it through. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared to be an orphan.

***

Time seemed to fly as we prepared for the funeral. Like Jacoby, dad had everything pre-paid and planned, so we only had to make some very minor corrections. With those corrections done, the day finally arrived. I was calmer than I was a year ago, and didn’t think I’d be passing out this time. Of course, August had to be disgustingly hot this year, so the funeral home made sure we had plenty of water.

“Good morning everyone. I’m Mark Furhman, a friend of Jimmy’s for some years. Several years ago, he asked me if I’d conduct his funeral and at the time, I said sure. Of course, it’s different in the moment. People tend to think themselves immortal to an extent and so death is always a surprise.

“I first met Jimmy when we were both thrown into adult rehab at Creighton. They were determined to get us clean; we were determined to push as many buttons as possible.” There was a smattering of laughter at this. “Ultimately, of course, we got clean and entered college. Jimmy got into the EMT program and found his niche. I bounced around a bit and finally ended up studying to be a radio DJ. I watched as my friend blew through the EMT and nursing ranks, fought repeated addictions and then, finally, we got clean together. I went back to school and got into the EMT program and ended up in Kansas City.

“We never lost track of each other, though. I watched him become a family man, watched the fights he and Jacoby would have. I lost track of how many times one of them screamed divorce. But they stayed together through forty eight years of marriage. I know they loved each other deep down and it doesn’t surprise me that Jimmy made it a year without his partner in life.

“To Jimmy’s children: know that he loved you no matter what. He’d sometimes call me with concerns or to vent after fighting with one of you. He always thought he was a bad dad if he fought with you despite assurances that all dads fight with their kids. Teenagers can be especially trying, after all, and need tough love.

“When Priscilla started down Jimmy’s path, you never saw a dad spring into action to save their child like he did. He needed a few tries, but he eventually got through to her. He called me one night, in tears, to tell me he’d had such a fight with her they weren’t even speaking. I said to give it time and she’d come around. And while it took longer than I thought it would, she did come around.

“I’ll never forget when Priscilla got herself going in college. Jimmy was beaming he was so proud and when she graduated and started her own journey through the medic ranks I think he cried. Jimmy was known as the more emotional of the pair, so no one was ever surprised when he cried. He cried when she graduated as an RN as much as he did when Ava was adopted.

“Eliza, when you went off to college, he changed. He knew he’d successfully raised his oldest child and while he was sad and missed you, he was proud. He couldn’t wait for you to come home during breaks and he was so proud when you graduated. When you got married, when you were debating your feelings over your first pregnancy, he was just proud to be your dad.

“I always knew there was more to Jimmy and Jacoby than met the eye. From the way Fate brought them together to the way love kept them together, I knew they had something special. Jimmy, I’m going to miss you like crazy, brother, but I know you’re happy. You’re the only person I know that has passed away with a smile on his face.”

We all smiled at that, as Mark paused for a moment. “Following the burial, there will be a luncheon at the community center in Mondamin.”

With that, we all filed out, as dad was brought out last and loaded into an ambulance. The siren blared and we moved out to the small rural cemetery that housed my parents. There were so many people lining the streets; it’s clear dad touched more people than he realized.

The EMT honor guard was ready for us and helped bring dad to his final spot beside Jacoby. It was hard to imagine life without both parents, but it was happening. Because dad didn’t believe in God, there was no minister at the gravesite. Mark stood at the head of the casket and smiled at us.

“I’ll keep this brief. Jimmy was an atheist to his dying day, but he always believed in Fate and he believed there was an afterlife. After losing Penny, he even lost his faith in that. But over the years, he gained it back and I have no doubt in my mind that he’s found his little girl that he loved so much. And I’m confident that, when we all go, we’ll see him running wild in the afterlife, free from his breathing problems, addictions, and limitations in this life. Rest easy, my friend.”

With that, it was done. My parents were both dead and Priscilla and I were orphans. I never once shared dad’s belief in ghosts, but today, I think he might be on to something. I glanced toward the tree and I’m sure I saw Hank, Eleanor, Grandma Shaddix, Grandma and Grandpa Sullivan, my parents, and Penny waving at us, smiling, before they winked out.

“You saw it too, huh?” Cilla asked, and I nodded, as we moved toward the car to take us back to Mondamin. “I miss them, Liza. What’s life going to be like without them?”

I shrugged, climbing in beside me, as I accepted a hug from Clayton. “I don’t know, but it will go on. Just remember how happy they are to be together, sis. Whatever you beliefs, they’re probably together, having the time of their lives.”

In true Iowa fashion, we’d now have a big meal prepared by the local folks, then we’d go back to the farm. Tonight, the Creighton crew was coming out for a BBQ. I wondered how many of them would still be alive five years from now. They’re all pretty healthy, but I wonder. Losing my parents like this had driven home that no one lives forever. How many funerals are yet to come?

***

That night, I sat with Tony and Hollister, sharing a beer around the campfire. The kids were long ago in bed and it was just the grownups now.

“You know, your dad always hated inventory,” Hollister told me, smiling. She wiped her eyes, sniffling a bit. “We would always have to inventory the ambulances, the choppers, the ER, you name it. Down time was often inventory time and he hated it. But he did it, because “it all pays the same” he’d say. But you just knew he didn’t like it. He tried to fudge inventory once, but I caught him. We had a good laugh, but he was glad it was me that found him out and not our boss at the time.”

“I remember the first time I worked with him,” Sean said, twirling his bottle. “It was my first gig as department manager and I was warned about him. He was a handful but I loved working with him. I had my problems with him, of course, but I never minded. He’s the only person to get fired from Creighton then get asked back. I threw an unholy fit on his behalf and he never once let me down.”

“That was my dad, though,” I reminded them, finishing my beer. I put the bottle into a box of empties and leaned back in my chair. “He was always that way and taught us to be that way. ‘Always do your best and help others’ he’d tell us. When I wanted to go into tattooing he thought that was great. Jacoby wasn’t so sure, but when he saw the talent I had and how much I loved it, he realized it was for me. I don’t think I was ever unsupported by my parents. They didn’t always like the choices I made, but they always supported me.”

“They loved you guys,” Tony told me, smiling. “I remember when Michelle came out to live with them during the pregnancy with you; I thought Jimmy would never stop smiling. We always knew there was something different about him, but he never said what. When he got pregnant, I thought he was joking. Then, he came clean about being intersex. No one thought he was able to have kids; it’s extremely rare with intersex people. But, he got lucky. Losing Penny nearly broke him, though.”

I looked toward my sister’s tree, which loomed over the backyard. It looked amazing, thirty six years on.
“He really wasn’t the same after that, as I remember him. But he was glad he’d had the chance to carry us,” Cilla said opening a bottle of pop. “He loved it out here. After he and dad moved to California, they always seemed regretful. I know they loved being close to us, but they’d spend every winter from November to March up north at their cabin. They had jobs up there and all. I think we never should’ve gotten them to come out, but it was for the best. They were never truly happy out there, though.”

I nodded, reaching for a water. “True. But they would never admit it. They wanted to be closer to us so they were close the grandkids. They were happy about that. But they never truly left Iowa that much I know for sure. They came back when they could, and the fact that we’ve buried them here speaks volumes. It’s going to be so weird without them.”

We were quiet for a moment after that, listening to the sounds of late summer. The stars were out tonight, the moon bright, and there was a light breeze. We were all home for a week and then we’d go back to California and back to our lives.

“Just remember that he loved you,” Matt finally said, cracking open a new beer. “Those ten years we were without him were hell; getting to know him all over again was even harder, but it was worth it. I wouldn’t trade these last years for the world. He always gave of himself and hardly ever thought twice about it.”

“That’s my dad,” Cilla said, and we finally laughed, raising our drinks in a toast to my parents. “And that will always be my dad.”

I nodded, unable to disagree. Our parents were many things, but most of all, they’d been ours.


***

Fin.

Thank you to everyone who read and commented on the adventures. I hope you all enjoyed reading about our boys =). If time ever permits, I might put up another adventure, but for now, this is the end of our boys.