Letters For Emily

by Camron Wright

  Cara found him perched peacefully in his favorite chair.

  “Mornin’, Harry. You’re up early.” He didn’t speak.

  “What would you like for breakfast this morning?” She didn’t expect him to answer. He seldom did. He would usually eat whatever she fixed, so today it would be either oatmeal or grits.

  As she headed back to the kitchen, he turned his head toward her.

  “Today, I’d like bacon and eggs. Bacon and eggs, and then I’m going to swim naked in the stream.”

  LAURA WORRIED ABOUT THE LETTER. SHE ’D NEVER received a letter from an attorney before and it bothered her—so intrusive and demanding. She called her attorney first thing Monday morning to get some advice. He assured her it was strictly routine. With attorneys’ busy schedules and with Bob in town only every other weekend, he guessed it would be at least four weeks before a meeting could be set up. “A lot can happen in four weeks,” he said. “Just be patient and try not to get emotional.” She knew that he was right but the ease with which he delivered the advice made him seem cold and unfeeling. Couldn’t he see that eleven years of her life were being crushed? She was sure he was either single or that the divorce business had turned him callously cold. Rather than argue, Laura agreed to take his advice. She would wait to see what Bob had to say this weekend.

  Work at the office had been hectic, for which she was thankful. The busy schedule had helped keep her mind off the situation. By her boss Grant Midgley’s account, Laura was terrific, especially for someone so new to the business. She had taken the position as a sales agent two months earlier, after graduating from real estate school and passing the state exam with flying colors. The decision to pursue a career came shortly after Bob had moved to San Diego. Though she didn’t need the money, as he continued to provide for her and Emily, the uncertainty of the future pushed her forward.

  Real estate had seemed like a natural. Her father had been an agent his entire life. Industry buzzwords were already familiar to her, so the rest came easily. She was articulate, bright, and when not discussing the breakup of her marriage, possessed a good sense of humor. She dressed professionally and looked the part of a skilled sales agent. It was a job she enjoyed, but also one in which she could juggle her time to accommodate Emily.

  Midgley Real Estate had just been hired to represent the new River Meadows development near the mountains, and since the newspaper ads had run on Sunday, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Tuesday had been Laura’s turn to stay late at the office and answer calls, so she had arranged for Emily to play at their neighbors’ house next door. Wednesday and Thursday were spent parading people through the model home. Several prospects looked promising. The best news of the week came Friday morning, when Mrs. Hendricks called to announce she had decided on thePierpont house. An offer was prepared, signed, and accepted. The home was huge, and the commission would be substantial. Laura left the office early to meet Emily and celebrate. She arrived at the school before class had been let out.

  “Come on, babe,” she teased, as Emily approached. “I can’t wait for you all day.”

  “Mom, you’re early?” She seemed shocked.

  “Of course, it’s the new me.”

  “Oh, I see.” Her sarcasm sounded so grown-up that it made Laura smile.

  “I have good news.”

  “Is Daddy coming today?”

  “Well, yes, he comes tonight, but that’s not the good news. I sold the big house to the older lady I told you about.”

  “The mean lady?” she questioned. Laura winced, not remembering how she’d described her.

  “She was mean, but I like her now.”

  “Are we gonna pick Dad up tonight?” Emily asked, not at all interested in Laura’s success.

  “No, honey, he usually just gets a car at the airport.” The first few weeks, Laura had picked up Bob for each visit home. As tension grew, he stopped asking and she stopped offering.

  “Mom, how much longer is Daddy going to have to work in San Diego?” Her questions made Laura uncomfortable. They had never explained to her the extent of their problems. Laura didn’t want to traumatize her needlessly if things could be worked out. It was the job that kept Dad away, they always told her. Laura wondered now if she’d repeated the lie for her own sake rather than for Emily’s.

  “I’m not sure, honey. His job is working out pretty well.”

  “How come we don’t move there then?”

  “So many questions today.”

  “Well?”

  Bob had asked Laura to come with him when he accepted the job, but their arguments had reached a peak, and at the time it seemed to her that he wanted an excuse to move away. Ultimately, they decided the separation would be a test, a test that would reveal whether there was anything to salvage from their marriage.

  “He wants to make sure the job works out first.” She knew it was a lie. She knew Emily sensed things were not right.

  “Are you and Dad getting divorced?”

  “What do you know about divorce?” Laura quizzed, avoiding Emily’s question.

  “Well, Jenny’s parents got divorced and now Jenny says they hate each other. Do you hate Dad?”

  “Of course not, babe, we just have some problems we’re trying to work out. We’ve grown apart.” It was trite, but the best she could do.

  “What does that mean anyways?” she persisted.

  “It means that we don’t get along anymore.”

  Emily sat quiet for a moment. “My teacher says if we don’t get along, we have to sit next to each other during recess ’till we become friends again.”

  “Now there’s a thought,” Laura whispered. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for ice cream before Grandpa’s to celebrate my selling the big house. You want to do that?”

  “Nah, I hate ice cream.”

  “Since when? Banana-nut sundaes with caramel sauce are your favorite.”

  “Not no more.”

  Laura didn’t bother correcting her. “Okay, babe. No problem.” But Laura knew there was a problem, a big problem. She had watched families divorce before, and it was always the kids who were left with the most scars. She wasn’t going to let that happen to Emily.

  She pulled up to the curb in front of Harry’s house and shut off the engine. Emily burst from the car and ran toward the door. By the time Laura entered the kitchen, Emily was already in the backyard.

  “Hi again, Cara,” Laura greeted.

  “Hey, Laura. Is Emily okay? She hardly noticed me. Ran straight out back like her pants were on fire.”

  “I think she is catching on that bad times are coming. It scares her—it scares me, actually.”

  “I’m sorry. Guess it’s gettin’ worse with Bob?”

  “You could say that. I got my first attorney letter this week. So it starts . . .”

  “Listen, honey, you just hang in there. You got a good attorney, don’t you?”

  “I guess. They all seem the same to me—so heartless. I just don’t want to be bitter. I don’t want Emily to be hurt.”

  “Nobody does, but trust me when I tell you to get a mean attorney. You’ll be thankin’ me later.”

  Knowing she meant well, Laura looked her in the eye and spoke softly. “Cara, thanks for your friendship. Really, it means so much.”

  “Don’t say it, woman, don’t say it. You’d be my friend just the same if I were in your shoes.”

  “I know, but thanks. And I hate to ask,” Laura said, changing the subject, “but how’s Harry been this week?”

  “Oh, Lordy, we had quite the time yesterday,” she chuckled.

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, my, it was something.”

  “What? Are you just going to sit and laugh all day or tell me?”

  “Okay, okay. Harry’s real quiet for what must be almost a half-hour. That should have clued me in right there.”

  “Keep going,” Laura prodded.

  “Well, I thought we’d gathered up all the cans of gold sp
ray paint, but I guess he must have had one hidden in the shed somewhere.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s real quiet, so I finally go out to check on him, and you know the green lawn chair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it ain’t green no more. It’s now a gold lawn chair.” Laura started to laugh as Cara continued. “And when I go out to find him, he was sittin’ right in the middle of it—gold paint all over him, but smilin’ like he was the king of the world. I didn’t have the heart to scold him. Just let him sit there for over an hour. Had to peel him out of it by the time lunch was ready.”

  “You’re a dear, Cara.” Laura’s voice then turned serious. “Is he coherent at all any more?”

  “Not much. Did y’all have time to figure out what to do about gettin’ him into a home?”

  “I meant to, but we didn’t get that far. I’m sorry. Bob’s coming out tonight and I got all the crying out of me, so I promise it will be tonight for sure.”

  “Listen, honey, you got problems a lot more serious than Harry. You talk ’bout them first.”

  “Thanks, Cara. We will get it figured out one way or another.” Just then Emily burst into the kitchen crying hysterically.

  “What is it, Emily?” Laura asked, jumping to her feet.

  “Grandpa spit on me,” she blurted out through her tears.

  “He what?” Laura could hardly believe her ears.

  “See!” Emily held out her leg for both of them to see. Laura grabbed a tissue from her purse as Emily continued in a sob. “He was spitting on the floor. I told him to stop but he didn’t. He kept doing it and then he spit on my leg. It was so gross. He yelled at me and then he knocked the checkers all over. I wanna go.”

  Cara headed out the back door. “I’ll go have a talk with him.”

  “It’s just so yucky,” Emily whimpered. Laura held her tight, trying to calm her down.

  “Let’s go home. I wanna go home, and I don’t wanna come here anymore.”

  “Emily?” Laura scolded lightly. “That doesn’t sound like my girl.”

  “It’s true.”

  Cara headed to the basement to retrieve a mop and didn’t see Harry come in the back door. He stood in the hallway, behind the folding door that separated it from the kitchen where Emily clung to her mother.

  “I never wanna come here again!” she repeated defiantly. If the confused old man understood Emily’s words, it didn’t show in his face. His hands, clasped together, moved nervously back and forth in the air, his stare distant, as if the door and the walls were not there. His mind seemed to be in another time or place, unaware of his surroundings and the events that had just occurred. Yet, as Cara’s footsteps sounded up the stairs and Harry shuffled toward the back door, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

  LAURA STOOD IN THE ARRIVALS TERMINAL WATCHING BOB move through the gate and walk past the crowd. Today he was wearing faded jeans and a navy T-shirt. A denim baseball cap covered his short dark hair. Some weekends he arrived in a suit and tie, running to the airport straight from an appointment; today he’d obviously had time to swing by his place first. He carried a black leather carry-on bag, and, noticing his tanned muscular arms, she guessed he’d been spending time at the gym. Without looking around, he headed down the terminal in her direction. He walked with confidence—the trait that had first attracted her to him so many years ago. When he passed within inches of her, she spoke his name.

  “Hi, Bob.” He jolted to a stop.

  “Laura?” He seemed genuinely surprised to see her waiting. “What are you doing here? Is Emily here?”

  “No, I left her with a babysitter. Bob, we need to talk.” As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted her stupidity. It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Whoa! I know I said we should talk when I got here, but you don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. It’s not about us, Bob. We need to talk about Harry.”

  “Harry? Is he okay?”

  “It’s not a medical emergency or anything, but no, he’s not okay. Let’s get your bags and I’ll explain in the car.”

  On the way home, Laura detailed the incident with Emily at Harry’s that afternoon, in addition to others that had occurred in the past weeks. Bob listened intently.

  “We need to get him into a home, Bob. I promised Cara we’d figure something out this weekend.”

  “A home, this weekend?”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  “Can’t the crazy old man wait another week? I have to fly out early in the afternoon on Sunday. I have a meeting with two regional vice presidents first thing Monday morning. This couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

  “Sorry to inconvenience you, Bob, but it’s your father we’re talking about here.”

  “I know who it is. Don’t lecture me.” Not ten minutes from the airport and their discussion had evolved into an argument.

  Laura had already figured out her plan.“Stop the car, Bob.”

  “What?”

  “I said, stop the car. I won’t do this. Let me out now if this is how we’re going to continue.”

  He backed off. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m under a lot of pressure at work. I’m sorry.” Laura took a deep breath and continued.

  “I called several places this afternoon. Two of them actually have open houses tomorrow and I have appointments with two others. We can even take your dad if you think it’s a good idea.”

  “Tomorrow,” he repeated, more as an acceptance than a question.

  “First thing. In fact, if it’s okay with you, why don’t you just sleep in the guest room again? That’ll save us time in the morning. Do you think we should take Harry along or not?”

  “No, let’s narrow it down first.”

  “I agree.”

  “What does Emily think of all this?” Bob questioned.

  “She was angry at him this afternoon, but she’ll get over it. I’m not sure how she’ll react to him moving into a rest home. It’s just so sad to see him this way.”

  “Any way, for that matter,” Bob muttered under his breath.

  “What?” she questioned.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Emily could smell breakfast cooking and hurried down the stairs in her nightgown. As she turned the corner into the kitchen, Bob, wearing a large white apron, stood at the stove, flour dusting his cheek. “Hi, darling. Ready for some pancakes?”

  “Daddy!” She was thrilled to have him home and ran to give him a hug.

  “How’s my favorite daughter been doing this past week?” he asked, as he bent over to give her a squeeze.

  “Duh, Daddy, I’m your only daughter.”

  “Duh?” he questioned, “Where’d you learn that?”

  “I dunno,” she replied, shrugging her little shoulders. “What are we gonna do today?”

  He wasn’t sure how to break the news. “Your mom will be down in a bit, and then we can all talk about it.”

  “Cool. Is Mom coming?”

  “Sort of. As soon as she comes down, we’ll discuss it—so what did you learn in school this week?”

  “Nothin’. ”

  “What do you mean, nothin’? You must have learned something?”

  “I drawed you a picture.”

  “You mean you drew me a picture.”

  “Duh, it’s the same thing.”

  “Honey, you’re a talkin’ like thar ain’t none difference n’ I’ma tryin’ ta tell ya that thar is.” Bob was being silly, and Emily giggled as he continued. “Ware ya larnen to done talk tharta way, anyhows?”

  “You have no idea,” Laura piped in, entering the kitchen. “I thought I smelled something burning.”

  “Oh, no!” Bob turned back around to the stove and flipped the black pancake over. Then, in one quick motion, he tossed it into the sink across the counter.“That one was just to warm up the pan. That’s the way we professional cooks do it.” Laura rolled her eyes a
nd walked over to the table.

  “So, where we going today, Mommy?” Emily quizzed.

  “Listen, babe,” Laura knelt down as she spoke, “your dad and I need to run a few errands this morning. They’re for Grandpa Whitney. Amie from next door is going to come over and play with you for two or three hours.”

  “Two or three hours!” she exclaimed. Laura knew it would probably take longer but hated to break it to her now.

  “We’ll hurry. It’s just something important that we needto do while your dad’s here. Be good and we’ll go to the park this afternoon. Okay?”

  “Everybody?” Emily questioned. Laura looked up at Bob, not sure how to answer.

  “Of course everybody,” Bob chimed in. “We’ll all have a picnic at the park together.”

  Understanding she had no choice, and with the promise of a picnic with both of her parents, Emily agreed. As Bob placed the first stack of good pancakes on Emily’s plate, Laura headed upstairs to change.

  The first stop on their list was the least expensive of the two that would quote prices over the phone. Bob turned into a parking space and shut off the car. There was a huge lawn in front, but the grass was long and matted, badly in need of care. The building was dingy brown with a sidewalk that was cracked and uneven leading up to the front door.

  “You sure about this one?” Bob asked.

  “It must be better inside,” Laura insisted. “Come on, let’s at least have a look.”

  She had expected dozens of friendly older couples, perhaps sitting around in groups of two or three, playing cards or watching TV, waving happily to any visitors. There were old people all right, but no cards were in sight. The lobby was littered with aging bodies, many in wheelchairs, others perched on stained furniture in crowded rows. Some stared silently at Bob and Laura, while others gazed into the distance. The odor was clinical.

  “Is this the morgue?” Bob questioned, loud enough for others to hear.

  “Bob, quiet!” Laura scolded as they walked toward a sign across the lobby that read “Welcome.”

  “This place should be onSixty Minutes ,” he added.

  “I said stop that,” Laura insisted, turning to glare in his direction.