I woke Sunday morning to the gentle
reminder of my wife June, saying that we were going to visit her grandmother in
the hospital. I didn’t take it well. I was grumpy, maybe even irate with her, for
some reason I couldn’t control myself. I yelled at her because I wanted to
sleep in, it was Sunday after all. Admittedly, after I admonished her for waking
me up, I felt guilty, but when I tried to tell her the words just wouldn’t
come. I even felt bad, maybe even confused by that. If I was being honest, it
might’ve scared me.
With her insistence, I got up and
got ready, the coffee she made me was too hot. Though due to my outburst when
she woke me I let it slide, unfortunately this upset her when I inexplicably
burned my tongue. Again, I found myself unable to communicate this to her
quickly enough, even as I could feel the liquid searing my taste buds.
The car ride to the hospital was
quiet, June seemed troubled. I suspect she was upset with me because of my
shenanigans earlier that morning. I
wanted to ask her about it, but I was too ashamed, so I kept to myself, mostly
watching the scenery fly by outside. Fields of tall light green grasses swayed
in the wind. I watched this occur for miles at a stretch as we sped along the
highway.
Distantly, I recollected that this
was not in fact the way to St. Joseph’s. For a moment there was a fleeting
feeling that I should tell June that she was headed the wrong way. Again, my
self-confidence didn’t allow for this, and instead I returned to my window
watching.
I also thought it was strange that
she had loaded Abbey, our golden retriever into the backseat. I didn’t make it
out to hospitals much anymore, but I thought the medical community generally
frowned upon dogs in hospices. This I did end up asking June about, but much to
my surprise, all my mouth could muster was, “Abbey’s here?”
“Yes dear,” she replied, “she’s
coming with us.” Her eyes went immediately back to the road, but she gently
stroked her hand across mine. It was her way of reassuring me, letting me know
that everything would be alright.
The drive ended later than I
expected and when we arrived at St. Joseph’s it looked drastically different
than what I’d remembered. “This is it?”, I asked June while trying to disguise
the confusion in my voice.
Again I felt her rub my hand with
hers. She didn’t say anything. Together, along with Abbey, we walked hand in
hand to the front door. June had me wait with the dog in the entryway while she
went inside to chat with the young woman at the front desk. Briefly, I glanced around
the place. If I had to describe it in a word, it would’ve been ‘drab’. If I’d
been allowed two words, the second would’ve been ‘depressing’. The lobby was
that stale yellow wallpaper that hadn’t been seen since that the seventies, and
with good reason. Fake plants had taken root, flanking the reception desk on
either side. It was dim inside, as if the day’s full sun hadn’t yet made its
way past the walls here. It looked a lot like the hospital in which my father
had passed nearly two decades ago.
I didn’t like it.
June came back after a few moments
and we all followed a woman in pink and purple scrubs to a small waiting room.
She told us someone would be right with us and smiled as she shut the door. Inside, was a small two-seater couch and a
coffee table with a stack of six month old magazines speed across its
surface. Abbey curled up at our feet,
and looked up at me with those expressive eyes of hers. I stroked her neck like
she liked and turned to June, “Abbey seems concerned, you see the way she’s
looking at me?” Staring back at Abbey, I began in a sing-songy voice, “I’m okay
girl, everything’s fine! You’re a good girl!”
When I turned my gaze back to June
her eyes looked heavy. After thirty-seven years of marriage, I knew when
something was weighing on her. Experience also told me that it was futile to
ask, she wouldn’t budge in telling me what she was hiding behind those eyes
until she was good and ready.
We continued to wait, the silence
similar to that of the car ride over. I thought June might be concerned to see
her grandmother in less than good health. I attributed her silence to that
fact. My silence however, was inexplicable to even me. Normally, I was pretty
jovial, making comments about our surroundings, cracking jokes, or even
bringing up news or current events. For some reason I couldn’t muster it this
day. Then again, I tried real hard and couldn’t come up with the last time I had
done any of those things.
I was pulled from my thoughts as
June excused herself she said he needed to use the restroom and she was going
to check with the staff, as we had been waiting for a long while.
I stayed back with Abbey wishing we
had brought something to help keep her entertained. Regardless, I repeated the ridiculous baby
talk that parents and pet owners say to their respective kids and rubbed her
belly to make sure she wouldn’t get restless.
The downside was, I was the one
that ended up getting restless. It seemed June was taking a long time to find
help from the staff. I didn’t want to seem impatient or show that I didn’t
think she could handle it herself so I waited about an hour before it occurred
to me to go check on her. I left Abbey in the waiting room, closing the door
behind me as I went.
I wondered the halls, noting that
the layout seemed different than before. I didn’t see the drab yellow
wallpaper, the front desk was no longer where I had left it upon arriving. This
frightened me, I wanted to find June right away. The young woman who had been
attending the front desk was no longer there, now a dark haired man with a thin
mustache waved and smiled at me as I approached.
“Where’s June?” I quickly realized
he wouldn’t have known who she was, and added, “My wife; glasses, gold-blonde
hair?”
The man nodded as if he didn’t
understand what I had said, and replied with a strange follow-up, “Good morning
would you like to take a walk outside Mr. Turner?”
This idea appealed to me greatly, and
proved distracting. What had I come out here for to begin with? “Yes, let me go
get my dog.” I trotted back to the waiting room, thinking that Abbey might need
to stretch her legs.
When I returned to the waiting
room, it appeared empty. Abbey was gone. There was no trace of her, not even
her leash. I paused, grappling with my own bewilderment. I was too weak to even
call out her name, as the chill of fear stiffened my veins. I stood still, only
to find myself rocking back and forth. I wasn’t entirely voluntary. I wanted June
to be there with me. Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she back yet?
“Mr. Turner?” a few quick knocks against
the open door frame behind me. It was that little mustached man. “Still want to
go outside and take a stroll?”
I felt myself nodding, despite the fact
that I knew there was something I should be doing, someone I should be looking
for…
“Are you ready?”
I nodded, and the mustached man
took my arm, and led me outside. As we
exited I saw a grand outdoor stage, currently draped in a luxurious velvet
curtain. I couldn’t contain my excitement. I asked the mustached man, “Will
they have a show today?”
I saw him try to look around, to
see what I was seeing, as if the stage wasn’t even there. Eventually he said, “Yes,
Mr. Turner they’ll be something going on later this morning on the lawn. We usually
hold a brunch there under the gazebo for residents and their visitors.”
I took my cell phone from my pocket
and snapped a picture. I nodded, even though I felt his answer was not to my question.
“June is missing out! Pretty fancy stage, for a hosp-” Where was I again? I wanted to ask the mustached man, but to ask the
question seemed somehow embarrassing. I
should know where I’m at. But I couldn’t focus on that for long, as I
turned I saw the magnificent gardens, the fancy landscaping stretched on for
miles. At the side of the walkway every so often was a flag, showing what I could
only assume was the logo of the place. It was white, with an orange border and
had what resembled a simple drawing of an elephant in its center.
I didn’t know what to make of this,
but was quickly captivated by the lush flowers that made up the garden beds all
around me. It was beautiful, and well maintained to boot. I couldn’t recall the
last time I had seen so many varieties of roses, and so many colors, colors
that I never realized roses even came in; traditional reds and pinks, but as I
continued to look, I noted blues and yellows, purples and blacks. All of them
adorning the ground in arranged waves of color, like a rainbow had fallen from
the sky.
I went for my cell phone again,
snapping as many pictures as I could. Thinking that I knew someone that would
want to see this gorgeous site. I paused trying to remember who it was I wanted
to share this experience with, but found it beyond me.
Regardless, I carried on taking in
the vast grounds. Just above the rows of flowers was a large stone fountain, its
centerpiece a wonderfully sculpted copper lizard that had developed its own striking
patina. It didn’t spray water from its mouth, but its feet sat within the small
collecting pool at the base of the fountain. It was lovely. When I went to snap
its picture, I thought my eyes might be playing tricks. While looking through
the viewfinder on my phone, I saw the lizard ripple and shake as though it was
an image reflected on the surface of a pond. I lowered the phone from view, and
everything returned to normal. When I finally snapped the picture, the phenomenon
had ended.
Continuing to take it all in I
noticed the courtyard began to climb up a gradual hill. Abbey would’ve loved this. Which led to wondering where she was. I
looked to the sky, which had just started to cloud. This led to thinking of June,
and how she loved the rain. I wondered where she had gotten off to.
TO BE CONTINUED
