Time to Let Go

by Christoph Fischer

  “Biddy that is full of germs now,” he said with a sigh. He would have to clean the brush or buy a new one.

  “Some days you are just like a loose cannon,” he said under his breath

  Hanna was still at the breakfast table browsing through yesterday’s paper when her parents came down.

  “Please leave the butter on the table,” she told her mother who, instead of sitting down, began to put things away into the cupboard.

  “Oh, you still need it, do you?”

  “Yes Biddy. You might need it also for your own toast,” she added.

  “I see,” Biddy said slowly and then she picked up the yoghurt and put it into the fridge.

  Walter was going to take it off her but Hanna gestured him to leave it.

  “Tell me about your family, Biddy. What are the names of your brothers?” she asked.

  Now it was Walter’s turn to gesture at Hanna but she ignored his cut-throat gesture.

  “She knows that kind of stuff,” she mouthed to her father and indeed, Biddy started to reel off the names of her family members.

  “I am the youngest. Mark and Rosie are older but near my age,” Biddy told the two of them. “Thomas and John are a bit older than us.”

  “How much older are they?” Hanna asked.

  “Four and five years,” Biddy replied.

  Walter just shook his head with disapproval but Hanna still ignored him.

  “Five years is not that much,” she said.

  “It is, too,” Biddy insisted.

  “Who are your best friends from school?”

  “Liz and I. We had desks next to each other. Her father used to own the big furniture shop, but then they sold it and it became a supermarket.”

  “Didn’t Mark go out with Liz at some point?” Walter asked her.

  “No, but Martin did.”

  “And who did Martin get married to?” he asked.

  “Minnie,” Biddy said.

  The doorbell interrupted their memory game.

  “Surprise!” Henrik called out as he entered the kitchen.

  “You!” exclaimed Biddy and clapped her hands excitedly. “You! My God, it is you!”

  She jumped up and ran into his arms, hugging him tightly. “You! You! You!”

  “Yes. Biddy, it’s me!” Henrik said laughing. “Me! Me! Me!” and then he picked his mother up and swirled her around.

  He was wearing a suit and a tie and looked like he had just come from a business meeting. Tall and red haired he looked like the archetypal Scandinavian.

  “Having a young and handsome wife has done wonders to your physique,” Hanna commented. “You clearly must be working out now, too. Your skin looks so fresh and healthy. Well done you!”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Hanna asked her brother.

  “I didn’t know until the last minute if I could make it,” he explained.

  Biddy would not let go of her son and looked at him with warm and loving eyes.

  “How long are you here for?” Hanna asked.

  “I can only stay until this afternoon. I need to get back to Wales tonight; I have important meetings tomorrow all day long.”

  “That’s a shame,” Hanna replied.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How is Sunita?”

  “She is great, thanks for asking. She is in Mauritius at the moment on a photo shoot: a place that, allegedly, once belonged to Princess Stephanie. Sunita sent some pictures by phone. Really nice from what I can tell.”

  “Splendid,” Walter said half-heartedly.

  “How are you mother?” Henrik asked Biddy.

  “Mother, who are you calling mother?” Biddy replied laughing. “I’m not that old.”

  “How are you anyway?” asked Henrik.

  “Happy. Really happy,” she replied, lost for words and disorientated, but positively glowing.

  “Hanna, why don’t you and your mother do some of your stretches? I need to speak to your brother about a few things in private. Would that be all right?”

  “I am not sure we can get her to let him alone,” Hanna pointed out. “Look how she holds on to him.”

  “Fine, I have another plan then. I left my car in town yesterday because I had a pint. Henrik and I are going to get it,” Walter suggested.

  “I am not so sure about that - now that she has seen him. I think you better give her some serious time with him before taking him away again,” Hanna insisted.” I could always drop you off in town instead.”

  “No, I think Henrik and I will just go. Once we are out of the door she will be fine,” Walter said and pulled on Henrik’s arm.

  His son got up and broke free from Biddy’s embrace.

  “No!” Biddy wailed, but the two men left regardless.

  In the car father and son had a heated discussion, which had nothing to do with the impending negotiations with the police. As soon as the two of them had left the house Henrik began the same conversation that he had had with his father many times over the past few months.

  “When are you going to get her into a home, Dad?”

  “I have no intention of doing that to your mother. I made vows: for better and for worse, in sickness and in health. While I can still look after her, she will stay with me,” Walter replied passionately.

  “That is great sentiment and I am sure she would appreciate it: if only she could understand it. Or if it made any sense!” Henrik said sarcastically.

  “She still understands a lot,” Walter shot back.

  “That may well be correct now,” Henrik said. “What is she, early stage two? Moderate…middle stage...what do you call it?”

  “I am not sure, but I guess what you said is right,” Walter said hesitatingly.

  “What do the doctors say? You must have regular check-ups!”

  “Yes of course, but there have not been any changes lately: it is all perfectly under control.”

  “And they don’t advise you to put her in a home, they don’t offer home care? Then they don’t seem very competent to me,” Henrik sneered.

  “What is it to you anyway? You are never here,” Walter replied angrily. “If this is your way of telling me that you can’t help us anymore in the future because of some work commitments or other reasons, then that is fine with me. Please don’t worry about us. We can manage without your help if we have to. The little you can do from Wales is easily replaced but your mother will not be institutionalised.”

  “You have got to put her somewhere: she needs proper care,” Henrik implored.

  “She needs her family and people who love her,” Walter replied. “She has proper care!”

  “Dad, this is ridiculous. Look at yourself this morning. There were three of us at the table with her and none of us could get a full conversation out of her. She is gone. You are wasting your life with dressing up a doll and pretending that doll is your wife. Think of what you could do with that time. My God, you don’t know how much time you have got left yourself.”

  “Henrik, be that as it may. I made that commitment to your mother and if the roles were reversed, she would do the same for me or for any of you. We have been married for most of our lives. I can’t and won’t just put her away. If she was physically ill and needed medical attention then that would be a different matter but I can do everything that she needs doing. I am not going to run away from the responsibility and desert her. That is not the person I am. You know that.”

  “Maybe you have the wrong ideas about these homes,” Henrik continued. “In these places there are trained personnel, nurses with specialised skills and occupational therapists. I have researched a few on the Internet and they are not out of your financial league. You may have to make a few sacrifices but it would be the humane thing to do, and give her a better life than she has now,” Henrik insisted.

  “Your mother has the life she wants. She chose to be with me and she would do so again and again. As her husband, her life partner, her
companion of over 50 years, of that I am certain. If she could make the decision herself that is what she would say,” Walter declared pompously.

  “Do you really think that? Don’t you think she would want you to be happy and make better use the time you have left? What you have done so far is fantastic and it was the best thing for her up to now, but you don’t see how far she has gone because you see her every day. I have not seen her for a few weeks...”

  “…months!” Walter interrupted.

  “Okay, a few months. That stresses my point even more then. The difference I can see is huge. She is clearly no longer there mentally. She is a child, a puppet. You are going through the motions for no one’s benefit, only to calm your own guilty conscious,” Henrik continued his plea.

  “I don’t mind if I am doing it just for myself. Even if she really is not ‘there anymore’ it might as well be me who looks after her. Besides, I think you don’t have an accurate picture. This morning your mother has been quiet and tired, I don’t know why. But Biddy has been rather on good form lately, especially since your sister has been here, and provided her with a bit more entertainment.”

  “Hanna said mother was admitted to A&E after she fell. It doesn’t sound like entertainment, or that you have anything under control.”

  “I know you mean well and I appreciate you looking on the Internet and trying to help us. I really do. But it is too soon for her to go into a home. There are still wonderful moments for her here,” Walter said with watery eyes, reminiscing about holding hands with her on the sofa and watching her feeding the ducks. “You have a business head and always see things too much from a cost benefit analysis point of view. How can you be so heartless?”

  “You are doing a super job, Dad, nobody disputes that. But think of mother. She could have an even better life.”

  “So I am just fooling myself believing that I am still capable of taking care of my wife? Just like the police seem to think I am no longer fit to drive. So I am nothing but a useless old man?”

  “Well, if you just want to rant or be sorry for yourself then there is no point in having this conversation,” Henrik said and slapped the steering wheel angrily. “She can have these moments in a home as well, Dad, and with more style and possibly more dignity, too.”

  “I know that but think about it. I will miss the few precious moments of clarity we have left if I only get to see her during visiting hours in a home. I don’t want to miss anything that your mother and I have still remaining to experience together,” he confessed.

  “I will send you the leaflets and info packs,” Henrik said. “Promise me you will have at least a look at them. One of them has a fantastic DVD that explains the effects of Alzheimer’s and how the illness can progress through its stages. You should watch it in any case,” said Henrik, quite bossily.

  “That is the last thing I want to watch,” Walter told him. “I don’t want to know what horrible things are going to happen to her or how the average patient deteriorates. It is bad enough to know for certain that it will only get worse. That is more than I need to know. Can’t you understand that?”

  “No, not completely,” Henrik replied. “You need to be prepared. I have read some books on Alzheimer’s and I think you ought to know at least some of what they say. And you should think about the waiting lists for the good homes. You could at least put her name down for a spot, so when the time comes for her to go you won’t have to wait too long.”

  “Knowing the future only spoils the magic of what I have now,” Walter said.

  “Dad, you sound just like Hanna.”

  “Then for once I agree with her. I owe your mother the best, Henrik. She has given me three children…” but his emotions began to let him down and he faltered.

  “I hope that was for her own sake, not as a special favour to you. If you want the best for mother then promise me at least to look at the brochures, just so that you know what all the options are,” Henrik urged his father.

  “I don’t need to know the details of those options,” Walter insisted.

  “I see you have made up your mind. So there is no point in wasting my time,” Henrik was resigned.

  “Exactly,” Walter said, pleased with himself that he had stood by his guns. “I am sick of people patronizing me. None of you know the first thing about my day to day reality with Biddy.”

  “Fine,” Henrik said and sighed heavily. “I just wanted you to be prepared, so it is easier for you when things get worse. But I see you have had enough. Tell me about last night, then. Did you swear at any of the policemen?” Henrik changed the subject.

  “No, I don’t think so. I was rather angry but you know, I very rarely become vulgar. I was saying things along the lines of ‘wasting your time’ and ‘age discrimination’. I was slightly belittling him for his young age maybe. I was just so annoyed when they stopped me. I had no trace of alcohol on my breath and they would still not let me go. I hit the bonnet of my car. And I kicked the wheel, but I was never aggressive towards them. They threatened me with ‘resisting a police officer’ and ‘disorderly conduct’. What has the world come to?” Walter lamented.

  “They didn’t book you for that, so that was just an empty threat I guess. You have to play these guys Dad,” Henrik said knowingly. “That is all it takes. Why do you have to be so full of principles all the time? Just humour them, play up to their egos and act the humble servant. It wouldn’t have cost you anything and you would have been on your way in no time. Your arguing has only led you to a fine.”

  “That is rich coming from you. Sunita told me that you have nine points on your licence for speeding,” Walter said triumphantly.

  “That is true,” Henrik said with a smug grin on his face. “Those are actually only the points I earned from speed cameras. I got stopped more often than that in the Porsche. One time the cop who stopped me – and I must have been going at least a 110 miles per hour – well he was a car nerd too. I could tell. I admitted my guilt, we spoke about fast cars, Top Gear and Jeremy Clarkson, and then he warned me of another speed trap in 15 miles. He let me go. No ticket, no points. You see. It is possible.”

  “You were very lucky then. You know that is just the exception,” Walter insisted.

  “No it is not. Trust me. Another time I got pulled over I was extremely friendly to the officer. You can imagine how much abuse those poor fellows get from the public and the offenders. Again I admitted my guilt right away. Why anyone would argue with speed cameras and radar equipment is beyond me anyway. That is just asking for trouble,” Henrik giggled.

  “So what happened?” Walter said, impatient to get the story and the accompanying lecture over with.

  “I said to him: Officer, I admit my guilt, I am clearly not drunk or under the influence. But sadly I drive for a living. If you want me to lose my job then do me for speeding. If you want to punish me – and you are right to do so - please fine me but maybe for something else?”

  “What did he say?” Walter said without real interest, but Henrik was in boasting mood and did not notice.

  “He said: driving without MOT certificate it is. That carried a hefty fine at the time. I never had to pay that either. I spoke to a similarly cooperative officer in a police station half an hour later and explained that I had just found the document in my car - trapped in the glove compartment. They knew I could not have gone home and got it between being booked and then and so I got off. You better let me do the talking in there. Let us first see what they make of the story this morning,” Henrik said.

  At the police station they had to wait a while before someone familiarised themselves with the notes and could see them.

  “Remember to agree with everything they say. They love that,” Henrik reiterated. “Don’t argue; they have already made up their mind about the story. The only way to influence their verdict is by presenting a humble and repentant attitude.”

  Walter shook his head at that but didn’t reply.

  Constable Sharon
Walker collected the pair from the waiting area and guided them into one of the interview rooms. She was a calm, slightly overweight woman with a stern look that could be mistaken for boredom.

  “Have a seat gentlemen,” she said without giving too much of her mood away.

  “Thank you, Constable,” Henrik said and almost bowed with his body. Walter could not help but raise his eyebrows at this sudden display of humility.

  Sharon Walker had a glance at her notes and without making eye contact to either of them read from her pad.

  “How are you feeling this morning Mr Korhonen?” she asked Walter.

  “My father...” Henrik tried to answer in his place but was abruptly interrupted by the Constable, who extended her arm in his direction to stop him, while looking inquisitively at Walter.

  “Please let him speak for himself. It’s important.”

  “Of course, I am very sorry,” Henrik backed down.

  Walter looked questioningly at his son, who mimicked a sad face.

  “I feel very embarrassed,” said Walter, hesitatingly. “I am very sorry about last night.”

  “Can you give us any reason why you were in such an emotional state last night? You do agree that you were in an emotional state, don’t you?”

  Walter nodded. What a patronising woman, he thought angrily, but he could see that his son knew better than him how to handle the authorities.

  “If I may just briefly explain something about last night,” Henrik tried again to take over the conversation, and this time the Constable let him speak. “My mother is suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s and my father is her primary care giver. This week my sister has come to visit and tried to help out, but under her supervision my mother fell and had to be admitted to hospital. You can check the A&E records to verify this. My sister is about to lose her job and my own company is going under. My father here is under a lot of stress. You are not finding our family under the best of circumstances. I am sure that is why he got upset last night.”

  “So we agree that your father was in an emotional state - that is undisputed?” Sharon said in a very official sounding voice.

  Walter looked a little uncomfortable but Henrik signed him to nod.