A Walk in the Park
Brigitte had come home to Hartley to care for her parents. Actually only her father, according to her mother. “You know, your mother thinks I need home care. But I’m fine! I get out walking every day and sometimes she even comes with me. But she tells me I don’t sleep well and that I wake her up. She is looking awfully tired. I don’t know what I can do to help.” It was a cool day, but warm enough to sit out on their little patio. Most of the snow from previous weeks was gone leaving yards wet, with little pockets of snow in sheltered corners. A few snowdrops were poking up through the sodden earth. Sweaters, blankets and hot tea made it pleasant enough for Brigitte and her father. A few snowdrops were poking up through the sodden earth. “That seems a different story, dad. Mom wrote me a short note, not the nice newsy ones she usually sent, just worrying about your health. She did tell me that you call out in your sleep and wanted me to come home. So here I am.”
Her father smiled at her. “And I’m glad you’re here. We’ve missed you. Left your room for you. Neither one of us wanted to change a thing.” He saw the little frown that passed across his daughter’s face. “Dad, I’m grown - a long time ago. You’re talking to me like I had gone to my first day at school.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Silly of us. Your mother had always wanted a sewing room, and I wanted a den. We could have fixed up our spare room for a den, and your room for your mother’s sewing room.” Brigitte stood, pulling her sweater tight, and folded her woolly blanket. “Let’s go for that walk that you take. My tea is empty and I’m feeling a bit restless. Do you think mom will join us?” She picked up their tea mugs and started into the house. Her father followed her, bringing their blankets. “Mom! Are you busy? Stop what you’re doing and come with Dad and I for a walk.”
Her mother had watched them from the kitchen window, pleased that her husband was finally getting some attention. Since his retirement, he’d been increasingly hard to get along with. At first, he just acted like he was on an extended holiday, but then the dreaming started. Calling out at night, waking her up. Sometimes she’d go into her daughter's room just to get to sleep. If she said anything about it to him, he’d just growl at her and go off on a huff. As the weeks and months went by, neither one of them were getting any sleep. Sometimes silence was only broken by the radio. If they did talk, it was short and blunt. ‘Coffee’s ready’ ‘Dinner’s ready’ ‘I’m going out.’ On this morning, when she was invited for a walk, she hesitated. But then decided that because Brigitte was along, it would be ok. “I’ll be right there.”
~~~~~
It was mid week in the tiny park. Few people were out. On weekends there were families with kids and dogs. Brigitte had hoped to see some of her friends but at the same time was glad they had the park almost to themselves. So far, she hadn’t seen a problem with her father. She always slept heavily, so if he had called out last night, she hadn’t heard him. Both her parents seemed fine. Having cared for Miss Em when she was grieving, as well as the many other people she’d cared for or waited on while she was away, she knew that a short visit wouldn’t really tell her anything. But now, she was concerned about her mother’s state of mind, Was her father really in trouble, or was he just bored! He’d never been one for social men’s groups, so had few friends outside of work and church. Being retired cut a lot of that out. But she needed to take her mom’s concern’s seriously. Breaking their silence, awkwardly she said “Did you enjoy the stew I brought home from the Estate last night? Martha said I was too skinny and not eating right. Cook made sure I ate from her latest batch of scones. And now I’m babbling. So what’s up with you two?” Her father’s jaw clenched, the muscles popping out in little knots.
Her mother wiped a hand across her eyes as though she were brushing hair out of her eyes. “We’re fine. We’re not used to spending this much time together.” Her father strode on ahead. Brigitte looped her arm in her mother’s. “Dad and I had a good visit this morning. So far, he seems just fine.” Her mother stiffened and pulled away. “I knew you’d say that. Didn’t you hear him last night? He woke me up again. I slept in the living room.” Brigitte sighed to herself. Her parents had always had such a peaceful relationship. Or at least she thought they had. Maybe if she could get them out to the Estate for a dinner. With Samuel and Digby there for her dad, and Martha and Cook there for her mom they might……..she didn’t know what that would help. But it may give them a break. “You and dad have stayed in Hartley, in the house, since I’ve been gone….Mom…..you have haven’t you?” Stopping, and stepping off the path, her mother pushed her clenched fists in her pockets and stared out at the little manmade lake. After a moment, quietly she said. “He goes for walks every day. Sometimes I go with him. But it’s not very pleasant.”
Gently Brigitte asked “Why do you think he needs home care, mom?” She waited, giving her mother all the time she needed. “Because I can’t take care of him the way I used to. He’s not eating - he ate more last night than he has in….in… I don’t know. He must be sick and not telling me. If I ask him to go the doctor, he just jams his hat on his head and goes for another walk. At least he’s not turned to drinking like his father.” She ran out of breath. Anger and frustration poured out of her. Brigitte felt like she was dealing with teenagers! “I’m being foolish aren’t I, Brigitte. I had all these dreams about when he’d retire we travel across the globe, maybe just the country and then this stupid pandemic just grounded us.” Brigitte had not seen this side of her mother. She would like them to kiss and make up but that would take some time. “Dad! Where did you come from?” Her father had come up behind them just as her mother finished talking. “I’ve been around the park while the two of you were talking about me.” Brigitte could see that he was more relaxed, but still rather crusty.
Her phone buzzed. She was about to ignore it, but caller ID said it was Martha. “Hi Martha….” Stepping away from her parents, she listened and smiled. “Yes…..yes……that would be great…….I was just about to call you and Cook for that very thing…….You are a saviour…….who all will be there?…….Excellent….See you on Saturday!”
“In the absence of facts…..we tell ourselves stories.”
~ Noah Hawley
No comments:
Post a Comment