When You Were Older (retail)

by Catherine Ryan Hyde

  ‘Grab a coffee.’

  ‘What a good idea.’

  And I did.

  ‘So,’ she said, when I came back and sat. ‘You want to talk about it?’

  I laughed. It felt good. I wondered when I last had.

  ‘Thought I just did.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine. If that’s all you want to say about it, that’s fine. That’s up to you.’

  I blew on the coffee and took a few sips. I’d never drink any other coffee again. If I ever had to, it would never be good enough.

  ‘He doesn’t get it about my mom. Our mom. It’s like he literally doesn’t understand the concept of death. Not that I blame him. I mean, he only has just so much to work with, and he can only understand what he can understand. But he still thinks she’s coming back, which is heartbreaking. So I was trying to find a nice way to help him with it. I just said that maybe even though he can’t see her any more, he might still be able to feel her. Feel her with him. And that turned out to be a mistake. He completely flipped out. For … well, I don’t want to exaggerate and say for hours. Twenty-five minutes, maybe. But … let me tell you. It felt like hours.’

  She lowered a rack of donuts into the fryer, and a rush of sizzle startled me.

  She looked over her shoulder.

  ‘If he flipped out, then he understands.’

  ‘On some level. Yeah.’

  ‘What about you? Can you feel your mother still with you?’

  ‘I did last night.’

  ‘Good.’

  Silence. For a long time. Long enough that the donuts came out of the fryer, and I watched her glaze them with a big ladle, right on their rack, the excess glaze running back into the well of the metal glazing table.

  She brought me one on a paper plate.

  ‘Careful,’ she said. ‘Hot.’ Then, just when I least expected it, ‘Are you going to put him in a home?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ I said, without even thinking. ‘I couldn’t do that to my mom. I’ve hurt my mom enough for one lifetime.’

  She cocked her head to one side, but didn’t ask any questions.

  I didn’t want to elaborate, but it was too late. I’d stuck my foot in it. Now I had to go on. Otherwise what she was imagining would be even worse.

  ‘It’s just … I should’ve stayed and helped her take care of him. I know I should have. I’ve always known. But I didn’t stay. The minute I turned eighteen, I ran. And I’ve felt like shit about it all these years. And obviously it’s come back to haunt me. Like karma, but all in the same lifetime. But … to put Ben in a home …’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘I think he would be unhappy.’

  ‘He’d be miserable. And my mom. My mom would roll over in her grave.’

  And, as that last word came out of my mouth, I broke. I cried.

  So, there it was.

  For five or six days, nothing. Oh, a little sweating and shaking and screaming here and there, but no tears. But when I said what I said, there it was. My mom was in her grave. Figuratively speaking. The denial cracked like river ice in the first good thaw. The kind of cracks that won’t stop once they get going. They travel. They craze. The whole structure just … well, we all know what it does. It comes tumbling down. Things are like that. You can build them all you want. But they tumble down.

  It would not be exaggerating my case to call this ‘The moment I realized my mother was dead.’ And I thought, You should be more understanding with Ben. He gets it on an emotional level, but can’t wrap his brain around it. You did almost exactly the same thing, but in reverse.

  She came close to me, but did not touch me in any way.

  ‘Poor Rusty,’ she said.

  It surprised me so much that I almost stopped crying.

  ‘Who told you my name is Rusty?’

  ‘It isn’t? I was in the market yesterday, and I saw Ben. And I said, “Ben, I met your brother.” But I hadn’t thought to ask your name. So I said, “Ben, what’s your brother’s name?” And he said “Rusty”.’

  ‘Childhood nickname. I go by Russell now. Ben is having trouble making the switch.’

  ‘Well, I won’t have trouble making the switch. Poor Russell.’

  And she reached out and handed me two paper towels. I wondered if my nose was running. It didn’t feel like it.

  ‘It’s the best I have,’ she said.

  I took them from her. And looked into her face. And fell for her.

  Yes. Just like that.

  I won’t say fell in love, because I don’t quite believe that. I think you have to know someone better to earn that phrase. But I fell. That’s all I can say. I fell into … something. And hit hard.

  Like being hit by a car. And almost as painful. But mostly I mean, just that sudden. There’s no beginning, middle and end to that experience. The split second it happens, it’s happened. In its entirety. The only time that really elapses is the time it takes you to catch up. To absorb what just happened to you. And nobody ever thinks it’s going to unhappen. Do they?

  ‘Now you’re looking at me strangely,’ she said.

  ‘Was I? Sorry.’

  I looked away.

  But a minute later, when she went back to her donuts, I looked at her some more. I wanted to do nothing else from that moment forward.

  There were just two problems.

  One, whether she would ever return my feelings. And two, if she ever did, how to keep Ben from sitting between us on the couch every night.

  I took a big bite of my glazed donut.

  Three problems. And if it worked out, I would be very fat.

  Yes, it’s interesting, isn’t it? Suddenly it was lighter inside my brain. Funnier. Things were looking up.

  When I got into the driveway, Mark Jespers was standing out in front of his parents’ house, watering the lawn with a hose.

  I waved, and he waved, and then he ran to turn off the hose, and my heart sank. I’ve never been Mark’s biggest fan. And I’d been seriously looking forward to taking a nap. And daydreaming.

  Lady bakers, maybe.

  He met up with me right in front of my mom’s front porch.

  ‘You look terrible,’ he said.

  ‘I just need some sleep.’

  He’d changed, Mark. Literally. Physically. He’d bulked up. Gotten into bodybuilding, apparently. He wore shorts and a sleeveless tee, a muscle tee, obviously proud of what he had to show. I wondered if he used steroids. It looked like he might.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, careening off in another conversational direction entirely. ‘We’re going out tonight to celebrate Larry and Vince and Paul. It’s their last day.’

  I had an irreverent thought. I thought, Yeah, seeing as they’re already trained by the National Guard and they’ll be part of the first wave into Afghanistan, it’s probably at least one of their last few. I shook it away again. I didn’t want to think that way, especially about Larry. I liked Larry. At least, better than I liked Mark. And I knew him better than I knew Vince or Paul.

  ‘Yeah, Larry told me they were shipping out.’

  ‘We’re gonna go out tonight, all the guys. Get drunk. See them off. Come with us. You should come.’

  I just stood there a minute, looking at him. Not into his eyes. That’s always hard for me. I was looking at the girth of his neck. I was hoping he’d get it on his own. Belatedly. Without my having to say it. Didn’t pan out.

  ‘You know I don’t drink,’ I said.

  ‘Ooooooooh,’ he said. It was the ‘oh’ that almost never ended. ‘Riiiiiight. I forgot that whole thing. Shit. Well, come with us anyway, though. Just come with us. Have a pop.’

  Pop. Right. Mid-westerners don’t say soda. They say pop.

  ‘I don’t think I’d do too well around all that. But thanks.’

  I turned to go inside.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised. I remember.’

  I turned back, sighing. I didn’t ask any questions. I just waited. Obviously it would spew forth on its
own.

  ‘You always were way up here,’ he said, reaching one hand up high, above his head. ‘And we always were way down here,’ he said, reaching the other hand down low, below his waist.

  ‘I think you’re remembering wrong.’

  ‘I’m looking at it. Right now.’

  ‘I just don’t want to be around all that drinking. You’d feel the same if it’d happened to you. I’m going to go inside and try to get some sleep. And maybe later I’ll go by and see Larry. Does he still live with his folks?’

  ‘Oh, hell no. He’s married and got kids.’

  ‘Where does he live?’

  ‘He’s in the phone book,’ Mark said, simply, turning his back to me.

  Then he stomped back across the lawn. Just as I let myself in the front door, I heard the hose start up again.

  I took a long, hot bath and got back into my mom’s bed.

  Then, just as I was closing my eyes, I saw my cell phone. It was sitting on the bedside table.

  I hadn’t carried it with me. I hadn’t turned it on. I hadn’t checked messages.

  No, I thought. No. I’m going to sleep.

  But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  So I sighed, and turned on the phone, and checked voicemail.

  Two new messages. Could have been worse.

  The first was from Kerry.

  ‘I’m not trying to change your mind,’ she said. ‘I get it. I get it, I get it, I get it. But we can still talk, right? I mean … can we? I’m having a bad night, not that they’re not all bad lately, and I know you’re having a bad night wherever you are, you must be, and I just thought we could talk. So, if we can, call me.’ I could hear a break in there, right around the word ‘can’. A little crack, letting emotion through. ‘And if not, well … I get it.’ Click.

  The second was from Stan Harbaugh.

  ‘I’m lost,’ he said. ‘Russell, I’m lost. And I can’t think who to talk to. The people who would know are dead, and the people who aren’t dead don’t know. So I called you … And you’re not there. OK. You’re not there. Call me. If you can. Or I’ll call back. Or maybe it’s OK. I don’t know. I’m sorry I called. No. I’m not. Call me. OK?’

  I pressed disconnect. Turned off the power again on the phone.

  I would call them. But not now. Later. When I could.

  Funny how they both seemed to figure I had some of what they needed. Funny how people think that. Like they’re lost but you must be found. Everybody looks at you and judges you more stable. Because they can’t see inside.

  If and when I was vaguely found – or even just a little better rested – I would force myself to call.

  In the meantime, I was determined to sleep. And I did.

  * * *

  Larry lived in one of those old housing projects from the fifties, now turned into cheap duplex apartments. Over on Hardwood Court, on the south side of town. The other side. Right. All the way over on the other side of town. Took me almost four minutes to drive there.

  I hadn’t called first. I’m not sure why I hadn’t called first. I’m the kind of guy who usually calls.

  I could hear children shrieking as I knocked on the door. More than one. That ear-splitting, discordant child shriek that could be fierce indignation or could be all in good fun. The lines are so blurry at that age.

  Larry looked surprised to see me.

  ‘Rusty,’ he said.

  His face looked … now how was I going to finish that sentence? Older, but not literally. Burdened. I wondered if it was just now catching up with him, or if I was just now seeing him in the full light of day.

  ‘Yeah. Hey, I won’t take up much of your time. I know you’re trying to get ready to go. It’s just … Mark wanted me to go out with you guys tonight, and I can’t. I mean, I’m not going to. But I didn’t want you to think it was because I didn’t care that you’re shipping out. So I thought I’d just come around real quick and say bye.’

  ‘Come in, Rusty. Come in.’

  I stepped into his modest – to put it mildly – living room.

  Two boys, about four and three, came barreling into the room, the little one chasing the big one. When they saw me, they stopped dead. A ridiculously pregnant woman stepped out of the kitchen, and they hid behind her legs.

  ‘Trish, this is my old friend Rusty. You remember when I told you about Rusty, right?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ she said, her voice full of hushed awe. As though he’d told her I was an axe murderer, or something.

  ‘And this is Petey and Jack. Sit down, Rusty. Sit down.’

  I did as I was told. The boys ran outside, into the back courtyard, screaming.

  Trish came and stood over me. I tried not to look at the horizontal mountain of her belly.

  ‘Larry told me so much about you,’ she said, still in awe of … something.

  ‘Sounds like it was all bad.’

  ‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t say anything bad about you. He just told me you worked in the World Trade Center. So the day it … When it … He said you must be dead. I mean, until the other night, when he picked you up on the road.’

  ‘Yes and no. I did work there. I’m not dead.’

  ‘Well, obviously. Oh, God. I’m sorry. Is everything I’ve said so far just the worst, most tactless thing I could have said?’

  ‘Not at all. I appreciate the concern.’

  ‘Can I get you guys some coffee? Or a beer?’

  ‘Nothing for me, thanks,’ I said. ‘I won’t be here that long. I know Larry’s trying to get ready to go.’

  ‘I’ll just let the old friends talk, then.’

  And she waddled away.

  I looked at Larry, trying to gather what I’d been wanting to say. It had all seemed so clear before I got there. But now I was there. And nothing was clear.

  No words came.

  ‘You should come tonight,’ he said. ‘It’ll be fun.’

  ‘I can’t. I don’t drink. Remember? And I don’t do real well when other people are drinking …’

  ‘Oh, shit. Oh, yeah. Hey, I’m sorry, Rusty. I forgot. I forgot about that whole disaster with your dad. And Ben. Oh, God. Too much heartache for one family. That’s what my mom used to say. And that was before your mom went and died. Well, screw tonight. Who cares? You came to say goodbye. That’s what counts.’

  ‘I think I got into it a little with Mark. Without meaning to. He thought I was being high and mighty when I said I didn’t want to go.’

  ‘Yeah, well. Mark is a butt.’

  ‘Huh,’ I said. ‘Interesting. I always thought that was just me.’

  ‘Definitely not just you.’

  ‘So, listen. Larry. This has been on my mind. So I wanted to tell you again I was sorry for what I said. You know. The other night. When you picked me up out on the highway.’

  ‘No worries, Rusty. No worries. You were tired. You had a lot of crap going on.’

  Petey and Jack came back. Ran in through what sounded like a kitchen door, shrieking. I didn’t even bother to try to answer. It wouldn’t have been heard.

  Larry leaned closer to my chair.

  ‘Come on outside,’ he shouted. ‘It’ll be quieter. And I can smoke.’

  I followed him out on to the front porch, where we sat in two rusty folding lawn chairs. The sky was the color of steel. It was a color I remembered. He lit a Marlboro and drew deeply.

  ‘I did want to ask you, though,’ he said, ‘but not like I’m trying to bust your chops or anything, it’s just, usually when people are really tired like that, they say what they really mean. They may be sorry they said it, and they maybe wouldn’t have said it at a better time, but they still mean it. So I was wondering. Did you mean it?’

  ‘Oh, hell, Larry, I don’t know. I guess I just feel like we’re going around in a circle. Everything that happens is in retaliation for something else, and so how is it ever going to end? I just get frustrated. You know? But I didn’t mean to—’

 
‘Hey. I asked.’

  ‘Yeah. You did. So … when I’m talking to Mark today … he lets loose with this accusation that I’ve always tried to act like I was above you guys. But it’s not like that. I mean, not as far as I know. I’m being as honest as I can. It’s not an “up here, down there” sort of thing. But we’re different. And I think we all know it. So, listen. I’m going to head out.’

  ‘You just got here.’

  ‘You got a lot to do, though. And that’s really all I wanted to say. Oh, no. One more thing. Come home safe. You better. That’s a lot of kids.’

  Larry laughed. ‘Yeah, no shit, huh?’

  ‘And tell Vince and Paul I said come home safe, too.’

  ‘Will do, pal.’

  I got up and ambled off his porch. A couple of steps later, I heard him call me.

  ‘Rusty.’

  I turned, and found myself looking right into the sun. I shielded my eyes as best I could with one hand.

  ‘You gonna put Ben in a home?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. What’re you gonna do, then?’

  ‘Not a clue,’ I said. ‘Not the first clue.’

  Then I drove away.

  I picked Ben up at a quarter after three. Not a moment sooner. Not a moment later.

  ‘Hey, Buddy,’ he said. ‘You want to know … something?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said shifting into drive.

  ‘Don’t go! Don’t go yet. I have to put my seat belt on.’

  ‘Right. Sorry.’

  ‘OK, now you can go.’

  I turned out of the parking lot and down the street. I felt a tug of apprehension. Staring down the barrel of another night with Ben.

  ‘What were you going to tell me, Buddy?’

  ‘Oh. Right. You know that gas station?’

  That was a partial thought if I ever heard one.

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘The one we always stop at when Mom takes us to the farm store. The one that has two hot dogs for a dollar fifty. Mom calls it the no-name one. But it has a name. I just can’t remember it.’

  ‘Right. She called it no-name because it’s not one of the big brand names.’

  ‘Whatever. Can I tell you this?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Somebody got shot at. There.’