Rowena and her aunt sat on a convenient bench and watched Sammy push the little girl. "How long do you suppose she'll want to do that?" Rowena asked.
"You were like that once," Aunt Glad said. Before Rowena could think up a response, her aunt asked, "What time is it?"
Rowena consulted her watch. "Five to three."
Aunt Glad opened her purse and, after rummaging a bit, extracted a little cup. "Pill time," she said. "Could you get me some water?"
"Sure." Rowena took the cup, looked around, located a drinking fountain, and got up. "Back in a minute," she said.
When she returned her aunt had the pills ready. Rowena handed her the water.
"Thank you," Aunt Glad said. She took the cup, but hesitated a moment, looking at the pills.
"They changed my medication, you know," she said. "It turned out the pills they'd been giving me were causing some . . . some of my confusion."
"Oh," said Rowena. She remembered something like this happening with Aunt Glad's antidepressants a couple of years ago, back when she first started to forget. "Well, I'm glad they got that straightened out."
"It's a good place, on the whole," her aunt said. "It wasn't a mistake, going there."
"Good," said Rowena. She wished she felt less uncomfortable. Her aunt set the cup of water down and patted her hand.
"Remember," she said, "it was my idea."
"I know," Rowena said. She remembered her Uncle Clem's death, and how the family had waited in vain for Aunt Glad to recover from it. How she'd given up and sold her house, not wanting to live alone and refusing to "impose" on the family. Rowena watched as her aunt picked up her water cup and carefully swallowed her pills, one at a time. And then she watched as Sammy stopped pushing the little girl, exchanged a few remarks with her as she slowly swung down, and then walked up to join them at their bench.
"Hi," Rowena said, as he sat down beside her. "See what poor Aunt Glad had to put up with, all those years?"
"All too few years," Aunt Glad said. She patted Rowena's arm, then turned to Sammy. "So," she said. "Tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know?"
"Anything. Tell me about your family, your job, your favorite book, your intentions towards my niece . . ."
And she burst out laughing, shaking her head, before Sammy could say a word. "Don't worry," Aunt Glad said. "Just talk to me."
He told her about his job, about his education, and a little about his family, leaving out his father's suicide as he had the day he and Rowena met at the zoo. And then without prompting he told her about that meeting, about the lemur fight. Both women laughed, though one of them had not only been there at the time but had heard Sammy tell about it more than once.
"Well," said Aunt Glad presently. "That was very entertaining, but I've got to get up now."
"Only if you want to," Rowena said, checking her watch.
"I need to go to the Old Ladies' Room," Aunt Glad said.
"The Old Ladies' Room?"
"I outgrew the Little Girls' Room years ago." Aunt Glad rose, carefully, and made her way towards the restrooms.
Rowena considered--briefly--pretending that she had to go, too. But she stayed where she was, and just watched her aunt walking by herself.
"She's not doing too badly," Sammy said. "If I hadn't seen her as she was last time, I'd wonder why she lived in a home."
Rowena went on watching. "She's doing pretty well today." She glanced briefly around at the rest of the park, and then looked again at the small, slowly-progressing form of her aunt. "Actually, I was going to suggest a trip to the ice cream parlour down the street, but I think we're already wearing her out."
Sammy patted her hand, then wrapped his own around it. "Maybe next time," he said.
"She'd probably only eat about one bite anyway."
Sammy squeezed her hand, rocked it back and forth. "I thought we were having a nice day."
"We are. I just . . . Maybe I just want to cram too much in. Kind of like a parent who only gets to see the kids for a couple of hours every other weekend or something."
Sammy smiled. "Don't worry, Mom."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah." He raised her hand and kissed it. "And you know that what really counts is that you see her, and you're there for her, and what's in your heart, and what's in hers."
She leaned up against him, and he put his arm around her. "I guess--really--she doesn't forget. I mean--even when she does, it isn't gone." She looked at him. "Right?"
He raised his hand to her hair. "You tell me."
Aunt Glad returned; they watched her approach without bothering to straighten up and move apart until the old lady was nearly about to sit down. After Aunt Glad had rested for a while they went back to the car. This time Rowena sat in front, next to Sammy, and let Aunt Glad have the whole back seat to spread out as she liked. They had almost two hours to get Aunt Glad back to the home, but there seemed to be no reason to hang around the park.
"Would you like some music or something, Aunt Glad?" asked Sammy.
"Oh, that would be lovely; thank you."
"Do you have a favorite station?"
"A favorite station," Aunt Glad mused. She laughed. "Do you remember my Dixieland program, Rowena?"
"Oh, yes," Rowena said. "That was fun."
"I miss that show," Aunt Glad said. She was silent for a moment, and then gave Sammy the name of a classical music station. Sammy found it on the dial, and into the car flowed the closing minutes of Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream.
"How's the volume?" Sammy asked. It was low enough to talk over.
"Perfect."
They drove on for a while, listening. When the last note faded away, Rowena almost sighed. If such a day really had to end . . .
The Mendelssohn was followed by an ad for an upcoming concert--and then an ad for a mortuary.
Rowena saw Sammy's hand move towards the radio, then stop and withdraw. She looked at him, but he just kept driving. She stared out the window. The announcer read a public service message and outside a minimall went by.
"It's been a long time," said Aunt Glad from behind her, "since I visited your Uncle Clem. A long time."
Her late husband. Rowena looked at Sammy again. "Sammy?"
He pulled up behind a pickup truck, halted by a red light. "Tell me where," Sammy said.
Rowena walked with her aunt; she had wanted to go behind with Sammy and allow the old lady a little more privacy, but today at least Aunt Glad preferred to lean on her a bit. Rowena wasn't very familiar with the cemetery, so she and her aunt helped each other to the family plot.
Aunt Glad's parents. Rowena barely remembered her great-grandma Arlene; her great-grandpa had died before she was born. Rowena stood in silence.
"I don't want to just throw these," Aunt Glad said, and held out to her great-niece the flowers they'd bought on the way. Under her direction Rowena laid three chrysanthemums on the grave of Glad's father, John. They stood a moment longer. "The iris are for Mama," Glad said, and Rowena set them carefully down. After a while, Glad moved the few steps to where her younger sister Charlotte lay; Rowena stood with her in silence, then respectfully gave Aunt Charlotte three tulips. Aunt Charlotte with the sweet brown eyes.
Last was Uncle Clem, buried with his wife's family hundreds of miles from the home town he'd left years and years ago. They stood for some time, looking at his headstone, his grave. When Rowena lowered his roses, she kept hold of her aunt's hand. And when she felt Aunt Glad's grip loosen, she slipped tactfully back a few paces and lowered her head so as not to watch too closely.
And she tried not to look too closely at the empty space next to Clem, neat and tended and waiting patiently for his wife.
"Thank you both so much," Aunt Glad said. They were back in her room.
"We enjoyed it," Rowena said.
"Our pleasure," Sammy added.
"You're a very tolerant young man," Aunt Glad told him. She gave him a hug. "You be good
to my niece, now."
"I'll do my best," Sammy said. She patted his hand.
"Good to meet you," she said. "I hope that girlfriend of yours brings you back some day soon."
Rowena stood by, watching and smiling. She'd hoped for this, waited for it, looked forward to it--not to this leave-taking, but to the meeting, to the day these two important people came to know and like each other. And now . . .
Now it was her turn. She went to her aunt aware that it might be the last time and feeling that she shouldn't be thinking that way, that she should just be enjoying the moment. She gave her aunt an extra squeeze.
"What a wonderful day," Aunt Glad said. "Thank you."
Rowena blinked and took a breath. "Thank you," she said.
Rowena Goes To A Movie
Fiction by S. D. Youngren
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rowena climbed into the back seat of Terese's car. "Hello," she said to Terese and Beth.
"Hi; how goes it?"
"Good to see you," said Beth.
"I'm okay," Rowena told Terese. "I finally got the information I needed for my latest project."
"Ugh," said Beth. "Work."
Terese pulled out into the street. "Rowena's work," she said, "not yours. Got a Rorschach & Schmed story for us? How is dear old Eloise?"
"About the same. In fact, exactly the same. Yesterday she got annoyed at Sara for not being at her desk seven minutes after she was supposed to be back from lunch, and was just working herself into a lather when here comes Sara with an armful of fresh copies."
"Hiding out at the copy machine," said Terese. "How dare she."
"My boss once yelled at somebody for using the wrong dry cleaner," said Beth.
"What!"
"A dry cleaner that happened to be located next door to our main competition. Apparently we were not supposed to be Seen In That Neighborhood."
"Oh, Lord."
"Terese," Rowena asked, "which theater did you say it was? Because if it's the one with the lamppost out in front we should have--"
"It's not the one with the lamppost. It's on Claremont Street."
"Where?"
"Trust me," said Terese.
"I've never heard of Claremont Street either," said Beth.
"You trust me too. I found it on the map; we'll be fine."
"Just so we don't miss Douglas Fairbanks," Beth said. They were on their way to a Silent Film Festival. Beth rolled her window down a few inches. "They don't make 'em like that any more."
"Are you going to go and swoon?" asked Terese.
"If you ever see me swoon, it'll be today." She rolled her window down a little farther.
"Swooning," said Terese. "Over some man."
"Douglas Fairbanks. Gimme a break."
"Beth's got a point," Rowena said. "We're not talking about one of these guys they have nowadays, with nothing going for them but a big merchandising campaign."
"They don't make 'em like that any more," Beth repeated stubbornly.
"There's nobody like any of those guys these days." Terese glanced at Rowena in her rearview mirror. "So who's your hero, Harold Lloyd?"
"Is that a Remark?" Everything awful happened to Harold Lloyd. Terese and Beth giggled. "If you must know," she told them, "yes, I do like Harold Lloyd. But then, I like most of the silent films and silent actors I've seen."
"Hear, hear," said Beth.
"I just thought you might especially identify--"
"You, I suppose, are waiting for a Mae West Festival."
"Touché!" cried Beth.
"Hey. She was feisty."
"What I mean," said Rowena.
"Listen, Mae," said Beth. "You sure you know where you're going?"
"Of course I'm sure. Why?"
"I thought you told me the place was North of the--"
"It is."
"Then we should be going that way."
"Beth--"
"North of the what?" asked Rowena.
"Don't worry about it." Terese was going to be in one of her moods. Rowena looked out the window.
"How do you think the various police departments felt about the Keystone Kops?" she asked.
Terese managed a smile. "I expect they had a sense of humor."
"Probably people didn't believe the movies so much then," Beth suggested.
"I bet they did," Terese said. "I bet the only difference is people weren't so bored back then."
"As a commercial art form," Rowena mused, "the movies would be geared to the people of the time--the time and the culture."
"Terese," said Beth, "where are we?"
"I keep telling you, don't worry," Terese said. "We have plenty of time." She got out of the car, leaned back in through the open door. "Be right back," she said. And left them with a little slam.
"I can't believe it," said Beth, watching Terese walk--quickly, despite her assurances about the time--across the parking lot and towards the drugstore. "I can't believe she left the map at home."
"Think she'd let us get her a Thomas Guide for her birthday?"
"When is it?" Beth asked. "Six or seven months?"
Rowena considered. "Eight."
"Well, at least that would give her time to forgive us."
They watched Terese emerge from the drugstore, a map in her hand. She walked quickly to the car, got in, and unfolded the map.
"Let's see," she said. She batted smooth the part of the map that was on her lap; more map attacked Beth, climbing up her to chin level.
"Terese," she said.
"Lemme think." Terese studied the map, ran her finger over one of the streets, scowled, then gathered the whole thing up and flipped it over.
"Ouch!" Beth said.
"Sorry." She studied the list of street names for a while, then flipped the whole thing over again. Beth ducked.
"H'mmm," Terese said. After a few minutes she gathered the map up and attempted to fold it. "Stupid things," she said, as the map folded of its own accord to settle gently over her head. "I hate maps."
Rowena kept quiet. Beth only said, "Let me have that." She took the map from Terese and began folding it.
"Got it all figured out?" Rowena asked.
"Almost," said Beth, folding.
"Yes," said Terese, turning to glare at Beth. "Now if you'd hurry up with that so I can get started before I forget again . . ."
"Where do we go?" Rowena asked, a bit hurriedly.
"Right," said Terese. "And then left, and then right." Beth reduced the map to a reasonable size, and Terese started the car. Rowena glanced surreptitiously at her watch. Unless the theater was quite close and Terese went straight to it, she doubted they'd make it in time.
"We could have lunch there afterwards," Terese said, pointing out the window. The sign above the restaurant showed a smiling waitress with a beehive hairdo.
"Let's not," said Beth.
"Looks like fun," said Terese. "Or maybe that Japanese place there?"
"Terese, I don't think I can handle anything more exotic than an omelette today."
Rowena said nothing. She looked at her watch; they had already missed the first ten minutes of the show.
"Or we could eat there."
"Terese," began Beth, but she didn't finish.
Terese pulled over. "Let me see the map again."
"Terese, it's no use. Even if you do get it figured out this time, we're still gonna miss the first 20 or 30 minutes. At least."
"You'd still get to see Douglas Fairbanks. Maybe."
"Terese--"
"Dammit, Beth, I'm doing my best." Terese impatiently unfolded the map, and Rowena thought she heard it tear.
"Terese--" Beth said again.
"You figure it out!" She shoved the map at Beth. Beth spread it out rather more carefully, Rowena thought, but one corner invaded Terese's territory and was shoved back.
"Where are we?" asked Beth as Terese got back into traffic.
"Lars
on," said Terese, turning off it.
"Pine," Rowena said. Beth pored over the map.
"Now where?"
S.D. Youngren - Rowena 5 - Rowena Moves Closer.txt Page 4