I was finishing my lunch with some scoops of avocado-based ice cream when he walked into the dining area in his nightgown, without his glasses, sat on one of the new chairs and started talking about building something, but he wasn't going to keep working once he went back to school. He kept talking about organizing "things" and how the windows were really good for the house (I could tell he meant a selling or buying point). Then he mentioned going back to work again and I reminded him, kindly, laughing in that "we're all in this together" way, that he was retired.
"You must have been dreaming that you were still at work, " I lied. "You get a pension!
He began talking again about "getting things together" and then said, in a very loud voice and looking at me with gigantic blue-grey eyes, "I came here from Chicago!"
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| Downtown, Minatare, sometime in the present |
I was baffled, as I was during much of this conversation, although whenever possible I was smiling and nodding enthusiastically. The he asserted that he "comes back here every summer" and pointed at the deck and called it "the porch." Then he mentioned his siblings, saying something about how something we had done or were doing was better than the things they were doing.
And I didn't tell him they were all dead, that he is the sole survivor of that big three family family. That rivalry is still alive in his mind. As he spoke, wearing his red plaid nightshirt over red plaid flannel pjs, he looked a bit like an L.L.Bean Lear, his white hair wild, his big-boned once 6'2" frame now shrunken to 118 lbs.
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| Downtown Bend, sometime in the past |
This is the first time he's confused Bend with Minatare.
His eyes were watering, either from emotion or allergies. He was looking out at the overcast sky, heavy with clouds, but occasionally lit through the cracks with patches of bright sunlight.
He's back in bed now.
