Jack

         “I have something I think you might like.” Jack waved his fist in a small arc, keeping the contents concealed between his gnarled, arthritic fingers.

         Dorothy tracked his hand with her eyes, her brow furrowing slightly. She looked intrigued; she must be having a good day.

         Jack suddenly opened his hand, gasping for dramatic effect, as he revealed the chocolate treasure in his palm. Dorothy’s eyes lit up and a delighted “oh” escaped from her lips. She shakily reached for her favorite hazelnut truffle, and Jack guided her fingers to place the treat in her mouth.

         “Does that taste good?” Jack asked.

         “No.” Dorothy smiled. The words ‘yes’ and ‘no’ now comprised her entire vocabulary, and she used them indiscriminately.

         Jack let out a deep, guttural burst of laughter. “I guess I won’t give you the other one then,” he teased, holding another chocolate just out of her reach. She giggled when he conceded to give her the truffle.

         Jack shook his head and marveled at the supernatural link between women and chocolate. Even in the severe stages of Alzheimer’s, his wife was still under its spell. She only seemed to vaguely recognize him on some of her better days, but her interest in chocolate never wavered. Now that was dedication.

         Chocolate had always been an integral part of Dorothy’s life. Jack sighed with relief for the millionth time when he remembered their first official date, when he had debated between bringing flowers or chocolates; it was a good thing he made the right choice. Shortly after they married, Jack was stationed by the navy at Pearl Harbor, leaving his wife expecting their first child. When he would sit in the barracks reading Dorothy’s letters, he was never certain if his absence, the pregnancy, or the national rations on chocolate were the hardest on her.

         Jack slipped the rest of the chocolate back into the plastic bag on his lap so that he would have something to share during his next visit. He would probably be back tomorrow; he tried to make a daily trip to the nursing home. It was hard to see her there, especially on the days when she would cry inconsolably, or stare blankly into space. Even on good days like today, it was hard to see his articulate wife trapped in a body that allowed her no means of expressing herself. Eight and a half decades of life had taken her full circle, until she again arrived at the developmental level of an infant. It was hard seeing her like this. But it was harder to stay home and not see her.

         Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, Jack dabbed the smudges of chocolate from Dorothy’s face. Her eyelids were getting heavy. She leaned against the back of the couch, preparing to assume the position of the other ladies scattered throughout the room, heads hanging backwards, mouths slightly opened. Jack gently took her hand and interlaced their fingers, content to sit with her until she joined the softly snoring choir. He gazed into the fireplace, the most inviting fixture in the residence, and listened to the brass band music coming from the radio in the corner. Why hadn’t he taken her dancing more often? Jack hated to dance. Dorothy loved it.



         Hobbling through the front door of his house, Jack made his way to the recliner and lowered himself into his favorite chair. For the sake of noise, he turned the tv on, but he took no interest in the channel or program. Dorothy was probably being escorted to the dining hall now, with no recollection of his visit. He knew he should make himself some dinner, but traffic had greatly prolonged the drive home, and his body ached. Although he knew he was thinner than ever before, his whole body had felt like it weighed heavier on his knees lately. Maybe he should search in the back of his closet for the cane.

         Jack turned his head in violent disgust, as if he could look away from the thought. He had carved that cane for his own father in the shop behind his house. Whenever he had needed a place to think, or to calm down from a heated moment, or to just feel useful, Jack had always gone there. Over the years, he had made countless creations in that shop; they were always polished and practical. He had made furniture, fences, and wooden spoons. Many complimented his work and suggested he try to sell it, but he always gifted his projects away. His family had sufficient money for their needs, and it satisfied him to see his woodwork put to good use.

         The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts and dragging Jack back to reality. He begrudgingly left his chair with a moan—that made it easier to stand up—and sighed on the trip to the kitchen phone.

         “Hello?” he grumbled.

         “Hi Dad!” his son chirped on the other end of the line.

         Jack smiled but rolled his eyes. Matt used to struggle to remember a weekly phone call to his parents, but lately he seemed to feel a need to check in daily. “Matt, hello. What’s new?”

         “Oh, same old, same old. How are you doing?”

         “Not much different from yesterday,” Jack said with only the slightest hint of an edge in his voice.

         “Did you visit Mom today?”

         “Yeah, she was pretty good today. One of the workers said they even got her to eat a full breakfast this morning. We sat and shared some candy, and she smiled a bit.”

         great. I need to get down to visit sometime.”

         “Sometime,” Jack agreed. His son only lived 10 minutes away, but he didn’t often find the time to stop by the nursing home.

         There was some whispering in the background. “Have you had some dinner yet, Dad?” Matt asked.

         “I’m just getting it now. Don’t you let that wife of yours bring anything over, I’m fine.”

         “Are you sure?”

         “I can take care of myself.”

         “We just worry about you, Dad. We don’t like seeing you over there by yourself...”

         “And don’t start in about that spare bedroom again. I’m fine on my own. I’m not leaving my house,” Jack recited his standard lines in the familiar argument before it could even get started.

         “Well, if you change your mind, you know the offer’s open.”

         “What are the kids up to?” Jack abruptly changed the subject.

         Matt briefly filled him in on Josie’s ballet lessons, Scott’s soccer games, Heather’s campaign for student body treasurer, and Kate’s first semester at college.

         As they said their goodbyes and hung up, Jack realized that his growling stomach probably did need to be fed, but that didn’t solve the problem of what to feed it. Cereal was always a good standby, but his milk had spoiled and he’d already tried eating it with water that morning. There were some cans on the shelf, he’d just grab one of those. He didn’t bother to read the label until he attacked it with the can opener—green beans, that would do.

         Half way through eating the green beans, Jack paused and dropped his fork into the bowl with a satisfying clang. Green beans used to accompany roast chicken with cracked peppercorn sauce, homemade mashed potatoes, rolls, and strawberry shortcake for dessert. Jack felt sorry for Josie, his youngest grandchild, who would grow up without any memory of Dorothy’s strawberry shortcake. He took small solace in knowing that he had always expressed proper appreciation for the meals with their tantalizing aromas that greeted him when he arrived home each day, exhausted from a long day managing business at the hardware store.

         He couldn’t honestly say that he missed the hassles and headaches of the store, but he did miss coming home each day with the satisfaction of knowing he had made it possible for his family to continue living comfortably. They didn’t have every luxury they ever desired, but they didn’t lag terribly far behind the Joneses. After getting home, his mind always quickly forgot work as he did his best to meet the demands of the family. He helped his wife clean up after dinner, tinker with unruly appliances, and discuss their days and what was going on with the kids. He coached Matt before baseball tryouts and helped him build his Pinewood Derby car. His daughter, Stacey, needed help with her homework and careful curfew monitoring.

         Jack wearily lifted his fork, resigned to finishing the green beans. Matt programmed computers now during the day, and cared for his own family in the evenings. Stacey worked at a hair salon and also had a family. And Dorothy, Dorothy was far beyond the point where he could do anything to help her anymore. He hadn’t ever wanted to put her in a home. As her condition deteriorated, he had taken over the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and other household chores. He administered her daily medication and picked out her clothing so everything matched. Still, it eventually wasn’t enough. When Dorothy started spending all of her time in bed, hiding from a world where she didn’t know how to care for her own basic needs and rapidly losing the ability to verbalize or even recognize those needs, Jack knew he had to find a facility that was better able to care for her. It pained him to watch the rough transition for her to a foreign place, but time went by, and she became more relaxed in her new home. She used to call out his name when he wasn’t there; now her eyes indicated mild recognition on good days.



         The next morning, Jack rose from his bed, squinting at the bright sun coming through the window. He had dreamed something about the war, but the details were slipping quickly from his consciousness, and he didn’t care to run after them. He still took pride in his military service, but realized how few Americans even knew the date that would live in infamy.

         Jack headed downstairs to scavenge for breakfast, determined that today would be the day he did some grocery shopping. Halfway down the stairs, he winced as his knees throbbed. Would he have to use one of the electric carts at the grocery store? No, if he took some pain medication first, he should be fine.
         Two steps from the bottom, Jack suddenly lost his footing. A knee buckled—he wasn’t sure which to blame—and his whole body plummeted to the
ground, twisting as he tumbled over the last stair, landing flat on his back.

         Jack stared at the ceiling, dazed for a moment. What just happened? How did his legs betray him like that? His head ached a little where it had hit the floor. And his left leg hurt too. Actually, it hurt a lot. Sharp pain seared from his knee, reaching up and down the leg. How had it taken him this long to notice such agonizing pain? There must have been some mildly numbing shock that was wearing off. All he knew for certain was that he was not about to stand up on that leg.

         Jack looked around, panicked, hoping that a solution would inexplicably appear on one of the walls of his house. All that caught his eye was the telephone, mounted high on the wall, but the chord dangled almost to the floor. If he could just get himself over there, he could call for help. It occurred to Jack that he looked exactly like the elderly people he used to mock in the panic button commercials, but suddenly those buttons didn’t seem like such a silly idea.

         Using his elbows and good leg to scoot-crawl towards the kitchen while holding the other leg perfectly still, Jack slowly inched his way closer to the phone. To avoid thinking about the pain in his leg, he debated with himself about the merits of the carpet in front of the stairs versus the linoleum floor in the kitchen. Carpet gave him better friction, but it also caused rug burn. He wondered if he looked as ridiculous as he felt. Later he would tell Dorothy about how he’d crossed the house like a gimpy crab, even though she wouldn’t understand what he was saying. Losing concentration for a moment, he bumped the bad leg against a wall, and immediately regretted the slipup. Jack gritted his teeth. Just a little further, he could do it.

         He finally reached his destination, tugged on the phone cord, and caught it as it fell from the receiver. Exhausted from the physical exertion and dizzy with pain, he paused to catch his breath before dialing. Then he paused again—who should he call? He supposed this could be a 911 situation, but that would involve all the fuss of an ambulance coming to get him. Jack didn’t want to cause a huge scene in the neighborhood. No, he would call his son. It was Saturday, Matt should be home and able to help him get to the hospital. Jack gagged a little as he swallowed a large serving of pride and dialed the number.



         “So it doesn’t look like anything’s broken, just a sprain. But a bad sprain,” the doctor concluded after a long spiel full of medical jargon. He had hardly glanced at Jack the entire time he’d been speaking, directing his attention instead to Matt.

         “How long until I can walk on it?” Jack asked gruffly to refocus the doctor’s attention.

         “Oh, you’ll be back to normal in four to five weeks,” the doctor said with an inappropriately bright smile and louder than normal voice. Returning to a typical register and adopting the serious half-frown, he turned back to Matt and said, “We’ll give your dad some crutches for movement that’s absolutely necessary, but he should stay in bed as much as possible. At his age, healing could be difficult, and keeping the leg elevated will be crucial. We have a rehabilitation unit where we can keep him here, if there isn’t anyone available to help him out for a few weeks.”

         “Dad?” Matt knew not to answer for his father.

         “I don’t know…” Jack hesitated.

         “I’ll leave you two to discuss this.” The doctor left the room.

         Matt took a seat on the doctor’s stool and wheeled it over to the bedside. “Dad, you know that we have a spare bedroom where you can stay, and we’d be more than happy to help with anything you need for the next couple weeks. There’s almost always somebody home who could help, it wouldn’t be any bother. You only have to commit to it for a little while. If you hate it, you can leave. But maybe you’ll decide you like the company after all.”

         “I don’t know. I don’t want to put you out.” Jack fingered the bandage around his knee.

         Matt tried another tactic. “Do you want to hang around here with that pompous doctor and his minions?”

         “No,” Jack said sharply. He sighed. “Ok, fine, I’d appreciate your help. For now. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

         “Great, the kids will be thrilled to have you around,” Matt said, standing up. “Let me go make some phone calls so the family knows you’re still in one piece. The nurses will probably be back eventually, but do you want me to send Heather in to keep you company?” Matt had brought his sixteen year old daughter, just in case he had to help his dad and needed someone else to drive.

         “Sure,” Jack replied listlessly as Matt stepped into the hall.

         Jack kicked the extra pillow at the foot of his bed, pretending it was the doctor. When he had been running the hardware store, building furniture, and providing for a family, nobody had treated him like a child. He hoped that he had never come across so condescendingly to anybody, regardless of their age. Now here he was, moving in with his son. Was this it? Would he ever go back home? Did he want to? It was so quiet and lonely without Dorothy. But moving in with one of his kids felt like waving the white flag. He had nothing to offer his family anymore; he was just a burden for them to bear. At best, he was a charity case to make them feel good about their generous hearts. He already disliked the charity idea, and he feared that the family’s willing generosity would turn to resentment as the novelty of the situation wore off. Of course he would contribute monetarily to the household, but that was simply retirement money, it would hardly make his presence valuable in any way.

         A knock sounded at the door, and a heavily made-up face peered through the doorway. “Hi Grandpa, can I come in?” said Heather.

         “Of course you can, Princess!” Jack knew that Heather would be furious if her parents still called her by such a childish pet name, but he was Grandpa and he could get away with it.

         Heather came through the door carrying a large styrofoam cup. “I brought some coffee if you want. Black, the way you like it.”

         “That sounds wonderful, exactly what I need. Thanks,” Jack said, sitting up straighter to accept the offering.

         “How are you feeling?” she asked.

         “Much better. These drugs are great.”

         “Can I have some?” She smiled slyly.

         “Not a chance.” He smirked back at her and she laughed, which softened his smile. “Did you know you have your grandma’s laugh?”

         “Really?”

         “I know you only hear her giggle nervously now, but she used to have the most dainty, joyful laugh. You sound just like her.”

         Heather nodded, taking in the information. “I like that. Tell me more about Grandma. Like, how did you two meet?”

         “You haven’t heard that story?”

         “No, tell me.” Heather settled on the edge of his bed, smearing something she’d pulled from her purse onto her lips, watching him with eyes full of anticipation.

         Jack was surprised that his granddaughter hadn’t heard this story before. He supposed it had been a long time since he’d told it. His kids all knew his favorite stories, and most other people didn’t really care.

         “Well, we met just before the war. My best friend had been telling me all about this beautiful girl he’d been dating for a few weeks, but I hadn’t been able to meet her yet. Finally, we all met up at a local 4th of July picnic, and he introduced me to Dorothy. Long story made short, she came to the picnic with him, but she left with me.”

         “Grandpa!” Heather’s jaw stayed open for a moment in disbelief. “You stole Grandma from your best friend?”

         “Sure did,” Jack nodded, clearly proud of himself. “He wouldn’t speak to me for a few weeks, but he got over it in plenty of time to be the best man at the wedding.”

         “Is that why you and Grandma used to make such a big deal about the 4th of July? I just thought you guys were patriotic.”

         “We celebrated a little of both.”

         “Wow, that’s crazy,” Heather said, “Wow, that’s just like my situation. I’ve been dating this guy from school for a couple weeks, but now that I’m hanging out with him and his friends more, I’m thinking I really like this other guy more. And I think he likes me too.”

         “Go for the second guy. His friend will be ok. You don’t want to miss an opportunity,” Jack advised.

         “Thanks, Grandpa. I’ll remember that.” Heather looked thoughtful for a minute. Then she suddenly looked up at Jack again. “Is it true you’re coming to live with us?”

         “It seems that way,” Jack answered.

         “Are you staying after your leg’s healed?”

         Jack considered. There were still a lot of stories he needed to pass on to his grandkids.

         “I just might do that.”