by Linda George
“How long will you be gone?”
“Sixteen days. We’ll fly into Lima for two days of touring, then fly to Cusco for several more days. Then, we’ll tour the Sacred Valley before riding a train to Machu Picchu. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“You started talking about it when you were about eight. That’s wonderful.”
Her mother’s words were enthusiastic, but the tone in her voice was completely different.
“Are you okay, Mom? You sound tired. A summer cold, maybe?”
“No, dear, I’m not sick. But I am a little tired. I’m sorry if I don’t sound happy for you. I am! Truly! You’ll have to take lots of photos and show them to me when you get back.”
Show them to me. Not show them to us.
“Is Dad around? He’s the one who got me interested in ancient civilizations. I’d like to hear his reaction.”
A pause. “No, he isn’t here. He’s … well, there’s no easy way to say this. He left me.”
Lynn felt a jolt of fear. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m afraid I am. I got up this morning and he was gone.”
Alarm bells went off in Lynn’s brain. Her father would never simply leave.
“Did he explain?”
“No. Just left. But that’s all right. He never loved me.”
Now Lynn knew something wasn’t right. “Dad has always loved you.”
“I thought so, too, but he was very good at hiding his real feelings. I’m not sorry he’s gone.”
“Mom! How can you say that? You’ve been married to Dad for forty years!”
“It would’ve been forty next March. It’s difficult to explain. We’ve grown apart over the years. Now that I think about it, I knew he was going to leave. In fact, I asked him to leave. Yesterday. Yes, that’s what happened.”
Lynn was stunned into silence. After high school, she’d applied only to colleges that were far enough from California that she wouldn’t be getting surprise visits every weekend from her mother, and so she wouldn’t be tempted to run home whenever things weren’t going right. All those years growing up under her mother’s thumb had convinced her that separation was the only way she’d ever become her own person. And she had! Now, though, instead of flying to Peru, she needed to be with her mother, to help get this confusing nightmare straightened out.
“Mom—“
“You’re going to Peru. When you get home, you can come for a visit, bring all the photos, and see that I’m okay. Really. If you don’t believe me, call your father. I think his cell number is the same. He still hasn’t gotten his things out of the house. I’m going to go through the house today, shelf by shelf and closet by closet, deciding what will stay and what he’ll take to his new home. I’m not about to let him take anything that has meaning to me. I’m okay. Truly.”
“You’re anything but okay. I’ll tell Sharon I can’t go. Surely, there’s someone else—“
“No! You need to go. Don’t worry about me! I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, no matter what your father says! Classes will begin in a few weeks for the fall semester. They’ve given me the class I’ve always wanted to teach—Pre-Columbian Civilizations. What you see and learn on your trip will be helpful, so take plenty of detailed notes about everything you see and do. I’ll share your photos with my classes.”
Her talking about teaching again made no sense. Lynn knew, though, that there was no use bringing it up.
Lynn’s mother had taught history for the small college where they’d lived in northern California for more than twenty years. She and her father had been Lynn’s inspiration to become a teacher of World History. But she’d retired from teaching three years ago, right before they’d moved to Santa Fe.
“All right. I’ll go. Then, I’m flying to Santa Fe for at least a week!”
“Perfect. I’ve heard it’s nice there. Then you can come to see us in California. You remember where we live, don’t you? By then, I’ll have the house back in order, and myself back in order, too. You’ll see that this is for the best. Give Sharon a big hug for me. Bring her with you when you come. This is a big house. Plenty of room for guests. I converted your room into an office, but we have two sofas in the den. Or the living room. I forget.”
References to their California house made no sense, either. She had to call Dad.
“Mom, I love you. Dad, too.”
“No reason for that to change just because he means nothing to me. Send me your itinerary so I’ll know where you are every day and what you’re seeing. I’ll call you every day to make sure you’re all right.”
“My cell phone probably won’t work in Peru. But you can e-mail me.”
“Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then I don’t want to talk to you either.” She hung up.
Stunned, Lynn sat for a moment, trying to sort out what she’d just heard. How could she enjoy a vacation knowing that her parents were living in separate homes? Her mother sounded like a different person—cold and unemotional. She dialed her father’s cell phone but got only voice mail. “Dad, call me as soon as possible. I just talked to Mom. She told me you’ve left her—or that she asked you to leave. She wasn’t clear on that point. Then she hung up on me. Please call.”
Next, Lynn called Sharon, who couldn’t believe it either. She promised to make the trip to Santa Fe with Lynn after they got home from Peru. Now if Dad would just call and tell her what was going on!
<><><><>
That evening her phone rang. “Dad! Thank goodness! Where are you?”
“I’m at home. Everything’s okay. Well, not everything. Your mother got confused this morning when she woke up late and I’d already gone to work. I guess she dreamed that she’d asked me to leave.”
“Thank goodness! She scared me to death! So she’s okay again?”
He didn’t answer for what felt like a long time.
“I haven’t told you because I honestly hoped it was something simple, like an allergy. About three months ago, your mother had some difficulty remembering simple things, like how to make cornbread. She searched every book on the shelves—even the history books—looking for the recipe.”
“But she’s never had the recipe written down. It came from Grandma.”
“I know. When I got home from work that day, every book from every shelf was on the floor, thrown into piles, and your mother was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. When she finally told me what was wrong, I knew she needed to see the doctor. He did a dozen tests before deciding…”
“Alzheimer’s?”
“Possibly. Of course, it wasn’t a definitive diagnosis, but everything points to it. He’ll be doing more tests on cognitive abilities, looking for more specific markers that will tell us if that’s it, or if it’s something else.
Lynn covered her eyes with one hand and took several deep breaths. It all made sense now.
“So when she said you’d left her—”
“She dreamed it, then thought it was true, or somehow her sense of reality was altered. If it’s a type of Dementia, then she’s beginning to lose parts of her memory. Sam’s mother had Dementia. He said it was like her memory was combed every day, removing little bits here and there while leaving other bits intact. The times when your mother’s been confused have been spaced pretty far apart. Most of the time she seems completely normal. But bits of her memory are definitely gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. If I were closer—”
“You have your own life! If it’s Dementia, it’s going to go on a long time. You’ll have plenty of time to visit. I’ve been thinking about retiring soon. I’ll just retire a little sooner.”
“Did Mom tell you I’m going to Peru?”
“Yes! What an incredible time you’ll have! Hang on a minute. Your mother wants to talk to you.”
Lynn took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect.
“Lynn! Take lots of photos! We’ll want to see every last one when you get
back!”
“I will, Mom. How’s the weather in Santa Fe?”
“Hot as usual. We need rain. What? Dad says we need to go. I have an appointment with our doctor in an hour. What? I had the appointment this afternoon? Lynn, I had the appointment this afternoon. Don’t worry! I’m sure it’s nothing. What? Oh. It was just confusion after a vivid dream. Love you!”
“I love you, too.”
Lynn felt like she’d been punched in the gut. How long would it be before her mother could no longer stay home alone? Thank goodness Dad was there to handle everything.
<><><><>
The next two days went by in a blur. The itinerary—which she scanned and emailed to her parents—included lists of the clothes to take and essentials such as sunscreen and insect repellant, comfortable shoes and socks for extensive walking. The more detail her mother had, the more likely she was to remember that Lynn was in Peru. She hoped. She also bought a blank book so she could record everything they saw and her feelings about being there.
She and Sharon had decided to pack together so they wouldn’t duplicate items and so they’d both have room in their suitcases to bring back whatever they bought. Lynn had no idea what Sharon intended to buy, but knowing her, they’d be fun and would trigger memories of the trip for the rest of their lives.
Lynn talked to her mother once more and heard nothing unusual. She wished she could accept her mom’s situation as well as her dad seemed to be doing.
Finally, the day before they were to leave arrived. They’d packed and repacked a dozen times until Sharon declared everything “perfect.”
Lynn got an e-mail that evening from Bill. From Bill! After two years of silence! She couldn’t believe what she read. She closed her laptop without answering. What nerve!
<><><><>
Cusco
Alex, exhausted after the last three tours, had three days off so he’d be rested for the group from Virginia. Malena hadn’t been kidding when she said the itinerary was an easy one. He usually rushed the turistas from place to place, trying to cram in as much as possible in the days allotted for their tour. But this group wanted a fairly easy pace, and that suited him perfectly. Also, it was a small group, which made it easier for him to keep up with everyone. Large groups usually wandered off by themselves and were late getting back on the bus, which put them late almost everywhere they went. The Virginia group, he had a feeling, would enjoy the places they visited, more than if they saw twice as many.
The night before flying to Lima, Alex met several of his friends at one of their favorite pubs. Tonight, there wouldn’t be live music, so he took his guitar.
“Alex! Amigo! Play for us!” they shouted when he came in carrying his guitar case.
“In a minute! First, I want a Pisco Sour!” He pulled a chair up to the table and signaled the waitress. She hugged him briefly. He and Marta had been friends since grade school. She was married to one of Alex’s friends, Herman, and they had two niños, José and Paloma, who called him Tío Alex. Sometimes, Alex stayed with them while their parents had an evening out together. Those times were a sharp reminder that he didn’t have children of his own, and maybe never would. At least he could be Tio Alex to Herman and Marta’s children.
About half an hour later, he pulled out his guitar, strummed to check the tuning, then asked for requests. Playing always brought back sweet memories—and bitter ones, too. His novias had loved hearing him play. And the songs his friends and the others in the pub requested were also favorites from the past. Whenever the memories began to overwhelm him, he smiled wider and sang louder. Someday, he hoped to play for a new novia. But with each year that passed, his hopes faded a little more.
Virginia
Getting on the plane in Charlottesville elicited excitement Lynn didn’t expect to feel. The terminal buzzed with hundreds of voices, announcements of flights, and warnings not to leave baggage unattended. Sharon chattered over the chaos, then pointed toward a McDonald’s. “Drinks! We need cold carbonation.”
They ordered, then found their gate. By the time they reached the boarding area, their drinks had been finished and the cups dropped into a trash bin. Lynn wished for a refill to take onto the plane. She couldn’t wait to get seated and try to calm herself. Excitement mixed with anxiety made her want to drop everything and bolt toward the exit.
A few deep breaths and letting herself focus on the chatter among their group helped. Lynn settled into the semi-comfortable seat with her Kindle in her lap, but didn’t feel like reading quite yet. She surveyed the group. She knew they’d be wonderful companions on this trip. Barb, BJ, Vicki, Dorothy, Cathi, and Sheila could barely sit still, they were so excited. Sharon looked like she might organize a Zumba class to expel some of her energy if they didn’t board soon. The craze had enveloped Sharon completely. She even did the moves with tassels she’d learned to twirl expertly. Quite a sight!
Now, instead of excitement, Lynn felt trepidation and fear that this trip was completely wrong for her. What could she be thinking to do this now? Next year, maybe. But it was ridiculous to have such thoughts after the amount of money she’d drawn from her savings to pay for the flight and tour. Luckily, her mother had sounded almost happy—and completely normal—when she’d called a few days ago. Mom actually mentioned Bill, asking if there could ever be reconciliation between them. So that’s how he’d found out about her trip, prompting him to e-mail her. She’d need to talk to her mother about that after she got home.
Reconciliation after two years? Absolutely not. Lynn had realized, before their wedding plans had progressed very far, that being married to Bill would mean living most of her life lonely, even if they were home together every night. She’d cancelled their engagement, knowing Bill would find someone else—probably someone who worked in the same firm—and his life would continue with barely a ripple. She hadn’t thought about him for a long time.
Now, though, after her mother’s reminder and Bill’s e-mail, she let her thoughts wander back to the break-up. She knew she’d made the right decision and thought he’d finally agreed, since he’d cut off all communication with her after that night. But his e-mail indicated that might not be the case. His post had come straight to the point.
“Lynn, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. Please, can’t we talk about it? I know you’re going to Peru, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why, other than something to do with school. I told you how unpleasant it was there. Maybe we can have dinner after you get back and you can tell me about your trip, which I hope will be more enjoyable than mine was. I’d like to see all your photos. Then, we can talk about what went wrong between us and what we can do to make it right again. I still love you.”
“…what we can do to make it right again”? As if she’d been the one to ruin everything. And saying he “still” loved her was a joke. How could he stay away for two years if he’d ever loved her? The part about wanting to see her vacation photos didn’t ring true, either. He’d often said that watching vacation photos was an enormous bore. He hated going on vacation. It cost too much and he’d rather stay home and watch football or basketball or baseball or fishing. It would serve him right if she agreed to dinner—steak and lobster—then made him look at every photo with an extensive commentary for each one—at Sharon’s house—before escorting him to the door.
Never happen.
But his e-mail had brought back memories she’d locked in the back of her mind. Back in college, they’d both been busy and happy to meet whenever schedules allowed. They counted on having more quality time once they had their degrees and Bill was working for his father’s firm in Charlottesville as a CPA. She’d applied for a teaching position there and was hired. He disappeared into the firm and rarely came out. She told herself that having a quiet accountant for a husband would be a good balance for her tendency to be frantic at times.
Teaching in a huge high school wasn’t enjoyable at all for her because it increased her frenzy and never allowed her t
o feel like she was teaching one student at a time. The classes were larger than she preferred, so individual instruction was done through computer programs. She’d always dreamed of connecting with her students in a special way so she could instill a love of history in them. A field trip to the Frontier Culture Museum in Staunton would be a big incentive for students to behave in class and earn the right to go on the trip. But the monster school frowned on field trips because of the cost of bussing students, and because one teacher’s field trip would lead to more teachers being bombarded with requests for “excursions”—her principal’s word—so field trips were nixed the first time she brought up the idea.
Her evenings were spent grading papers, concocting endless lesson plans that were packed with detail she really didn’t need, and waiting endlessly for Bill to get tired of sitting at home all the time and decide to do something more exciting than watching men cast lures into lakes.
The intercom on the plane clicked on again, just as the plane taxied to the end of the runway for take-off. To alleviate the tension, Lynn always pictured huge yellow cartoon chicken feet on the bottom of the plane, running faster and faster until they were spinning when the plane left the ground. Then, when the landing gear retracted, she imagined the feet being pulled into the plane and hearing a huge sigh from the big yellow chicken. Silly, but effective at relieving her fear of take-offs.
Her thoughts returned to Bill’s e-mail. A wave of pain overwhelmed her, reliving the realization that she could never be happy married to an accountant who worked more than twelve hours a day in his office, then another two hours at home. During the two months they were engaged, Lynn had spent most of her time alone or with Sharon and their other friends. When Bill got to his house from work every evening, he was so exhausted that most of the time he fell asleep, and forgot the plans they’d made. She’d learned she’d have to go to his house to see him after he’d finally gotten home, and usually cook supper for him. How anyone could sleep sitting in a chair at the dining table was still a mystery, but Bill could—and had—more times than she could count. Then he’d move to the couch, turn on the tv and fall asleep again.