Chapter 9
9
CT
All these people! Running around like chickens. Headless chickens. And one of them has green hair! Who are these girls? Why are they here? Isn’t this my house? I think it is, but it’s not the same. I think this is my chair. It feels like my chair. But everything is different. Why do people keep changing everything around? Who are these people, anyway?
“Dad?” the tall woman says to me.
“What?” I glare at her. Why does she keep calling me Dad? She’s not my little girl. She’s a big girl!
“Mom is resting in her room.” The big girl places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready to have some dinner now?”
“No.” I shake my head so hard it makes my brains rattle, but I want her to understand. “Not hungry!”
“You need to eat something.”
“Not hungry.”
“Grandma made roast beef,” the one with green hair says. I think she’s a child, but she’s tall too.
I shake my finger at her. “Why is your hair green?”
“Because I like it like this.”
“Who are you?” I ask her.
“I’m Cooper,” she speaks loud and slow. Does she think I can’t hear?
“Cooper?” I stare at her. “That’s my name. Cooper...” I try to remember the other part of my name.
She smiles and nods. “Yes. I know. You are Cooper Thomas . I’m Cooper Janelle .”
“No, I’m CT,” I correct her.
“Okay, then I’m CJ.” She sits in the chair across from me. The chair where Honey should sit. Where is Honey? “Mom named me Cooper after you.”
“Mom?” I try to put the puzzle together. “Is Honey your mom?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Honey is my grandma. You are my grandpa.”
“And I am your daughter. Jewel .” The other woman holds a plate of food right under my nose. Stinky food. “Please eat something, Dad.”
I lift my hand to block the plate. “Not hungry.”
“You need nourishment, Dad.”
“ Dad? ” I look for the one with my name, but she is gone now so I look back at this one. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jewel.”
“That’s your name? Jewel? Like a ring?”
“Yes. You named me after your mother.”
“ Mother? ” What is she saying? “You mean Honey?”
“No, I meant your mother. Honey is my mother.” She keeps holding the plate right in front of me. Does she think I want to eat that? It smells like garbage, and I know it will make my stomach hurt. Bad food does that.
“Take that away. To the garbage!” I raise my voice to make sure she can hear.
“ Daaad. ” She steps back.
“Am I your dad?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m your daughter, Jewel. Remember?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t remember things.” I rub my head ... maybe I can make my brain work better. My brain doesn’t work right sometimes. I don’t know why that is. It used to work all the time. It used to be the way I wanted it to work. Now it just does whatever...
“Grandma says give him a peanut butter and honey sandwich,” the green-haired girl tells the woman. They think I can’t hear, but I can. “With a glass of milk.”
“Yes.” I bob my head up and down. “Peanut butter and honey. That’s it.”
“Okay.” The girl takes the plate away, and I can breathe again.
“Jewel?” I try out the word. “Is that really your name?”
She smiles. “Yes. That’s right. Jewel.”
“Okay.” I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. “I’m tired.” I want to sleep so they will go away and stop bothering me.
“You’re probably worn out.” Her voice sounds nicer now. “You had a busy day.”
“Yes. I was in the hospital.” I don’t remember why I was there, but I’m sure it was something bad. Did I fall down? I reach up to touch my head. Is that why I can’t remember things? Because I hit my head? Yes, that’s what happened. Or else I am having a dream. When I wake up, I will be better and things will make sense again. I think they used to make sense. But I can’t really remember that now.
Honey
Honey knew she needed to rest yet felt it was impossible. She could hear Jewel and Cooper in the living room, trying to coax CT to eat something. He’d already rejected the roast and, despite Jewel’s best try, according to CT, the peanut butter sandwich she’d fixed for him was “not done right.” Honey had forgotten to mention that he liked his bread toasted, so now he was complaining that it was too soggy, telling them he’d choke on it and die. And chances were, he might choke too. Another element of FTD was somatic illnesses, and if CT thought something would make him sick, it surely would. She needed to explain this to Jewel.
After the events of the day, CT was really scrambled. He still didn’t recognize his daughter and granddaughter. Never mind the fact that Honey had spent this morning prepping him for their arrival. It was all lost in the mix. He was completely befuddled. As frustrating as it was to her, there was nothing she could do about it. If she had earplugs, she could ignore him and block it all out. Forget for a moment that her dearly beloved was nutty as a fruitcake. Of course, thinking that only made her feel guilty. People weren’t supposed to talk like that. But she’d only thought it.
She definitely felt sorry for CT. He didn’t like his condition any more than she did. Under normal circumstances he would’ve rejoiced over his daughter and granddaughter’s visit. Instead, he was holding them at arm’s length. The world was such a confusing place for him. And today had not helped.
She leaned back into her bed pillows, still longing for escape and knowing there was none. She might get a tiny reprieve while she recovered from her concussion, but CT would expect her to be up and at ’em soon. He would never understand the doctor’s insistence that she “rest” for a few days. Well, at least she had help.
“Hey, Grandma.” Cooper stuck her head through the cracked-open door. “You asleep?”
“No.” Honey pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Come in, Cooper.”
“Mom said to bring you some tea.” Cooper held out a glass.
“Thanks, sweetie, that sounds good.” Honey patted the edge of the bed. “Can you sit and visit for a bit?”
“Sure, if you want.” Cooper handed her the glass and sat down. “You feeling better?”
“I guess so.” Honey shrugged, determined to play this down. “To be honest, I didn’t feel all that bad. Mostly a bad headache.” She tugged a lock of Cooper’s hair. “This is a pretty shade of green.”
The girl smiled. “You really like it? I did it myself.”
“I think it displays real creativity and individuality.” Honey felt a throb and reached up to touch her swollen forehead.
Cooper narrowed her eyes. “That’s a big lump, Grandma.”
Honey attempted a smile. “Think it’ll knock some sense into me?”
She shrugged. “You really need more sense?”
“I think I do.”
“How’s that?” Cooper leaned forward.
“Well, I did some pondering in the hospital. I think God is trying to tell me something.”
“Seriously? That’s pretty harsh. God whacking you on the head just to tell you something?”
“Not exactly, but I think God is using it.”
“How so?”
“He is reminding me that I can’t do it all.”
“Well, no one can do it all.”
“That’s for sure. But I think I probably try to ... or, at least, I did. Maybe this bump on the head will help me remember I can’t.”
“Yeah. Mom sometimes acts like that too. Like she can do it all. It’s aggravating.”
“Might be hereditary.” Honey poked Cooper’s arm. “So watch out, sweetie pie.”
Cooper laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t even want to do it all.” She ran a finger along a quilt square, tracing the seams on the patchwork piece. “Did you make this quilt, Grandma?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Honey surveyed the pale shades of fabric, faded from too many times on the clothesline. “Back when your mama was a girl, I got into quilting one winter. This was my first big project. Don’t look too closely though. It’s full of mistakes.”
“Looks pretty good to me.”
“Thanks.” Honey sighed. “Do you know how to sew?”
“No. But I’d like to learn.”
Honey brightened. “Maybe I can give you lessons. When I’m better.”
“Cool.”
Honey reached for Cooper’s hand. “I know you weren’t too excited to come to the farm,” she said cautiously, “but I want you to know how glad I am that you’re here. Thank you for coming. It means the world to me.”
Cooper’s countenance dimmed. “Not to Grandpa.”
“Well, that’s only because he’s so confused. He’s not usually this bad. But stress does that, and today’s been pretty hard on him.”
“I guess it was hard on all of us.”
Honey studied Cooper’s face. “How’s your mom holding up?”
This girl was hard to read. “Okay, I guess. Anyway, she’s good at faking it.”
“Faking it?” Honey took a sip of tea.
“Yeah. Mom always acts like everything is just fine. She hates to admit when she’s made a mistake. She can be seriously lost, and she’s like ‘we’re fine, we’ll get there.’”
“So you think she’s made a mistake?”
“Yeah.” Cooper winced. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure she knows it was a mistake to sell everything and come here.”
Honey didn’t know what to say. She was probably right.
“Not that we can do much about it now.” Cooper stood and walked over to Honey’s dresser, where Honey’s framed photos were displayed. “Is this you and Grandpa?” She held up their wedding photo.
“It is.” Honey sighed as she stared at the photo. Such a young couple. Her long dark hair was topped by a wreath of teacup roses and baby’s breath. She’d crafted it herself and arranged the flowers in the church. She’d even sewn her bridesmaids’ simple dresses. CT had worn a plain brown corduroy sports jacket—and no tie. Her grandma had made their wedding cake. It was a shoestring wedding, for sure, but the marriage lasted longer than that of some of their friends who’d gone all out.
“You were so young and pretty.” Cooper set the photo back.
“Well, we were both young. I was only twenty and your grandpa just twenty-two. Of course, we thought we were all grown-up.” Honey laughed. “Funny how that works.”
“Is this Mom?” Cooper held up the photo of a little girl and a yellow lab puppy.
“Yep. She was about seven. And Goldie was just a pup.”
Now Cooper picked up a more recent photo. “Where were you and Grandpa in this one? It looks kinda tropical.”
“That was years ago on our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. Our one and only big trip. It was always hard to get your grandpa to leave the farm, but he reluctantly agreed to go to Maui with me for spring break that year.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. Mom still has a box of shells you sent her. I used to play with them when I was little.”
Honey smiled. “It turned out to be a fun trip. But even then ... I could tell your grandpa was acting different. I think that’s the first time I really noticed how forgetful he was getting. And he wasn’t that old.” Suddenly Honey regretted being so transparent with her granddaughter. Why burden the child with these old people problems?
Cooper put the photo back, then turned toward Honey with a surprisingly compassionate expression. “Is it hard on you? I mean, watching Grandpa like this? Does it hurt a lot?”
Honey felt a lump growing in her throat, but she didn’t want to cry in front of Cooper. “Well, yes, to be honest, it does hurt some. But it is what it is, right?” She lifted her chin and forced a smile.
Cooper came back and sat on the bed again. This time, she took Honey’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Grandma.”
This unexpected act of kindness cracked something deep inside of Honey’s chest. “Th-thank you,” she muttered, struggling to hold back tears. “I guess it’s been a lonely road.”
“Well, we’re here now.” Cooper squeezed her hand. “You’re not alone.”
“I really appreciate that.” Honey leaned her head back, closing her eyes and taking in a calming breath.
“And you can talk to me, Grandma. I’m a good listener. All my friends always tell me that. I think it’s because it’s just been Mom and me, and she’s always talked to me a lot. I mean about grown-up things. So don’t worry, I can take it.”
Honey opened her eyes and stared at her granddaughter. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Jewel talking to Cooper about “grown-up things.” Had Cooper been forced to grow up too quickly? Had she been allowed to really be a child?
“I’m probably talking too much.” Cooper released her hand and stood. “I know you’re supposed to rest.”
“Yes.” Honey barely nodded, but the motion made her head ache. “You’re right. I do need to rest. Thanks for the tea ... and sympathy.” She attempted another smile. “You’re a dear girl, Cooper.”
“Love you, Grandma.” Then Cooper quietly exited the room and Honey allowed her tears to fall freely. It had been a lonely road. And despite having her daughter and granddaughter here, Honey knew it would get lonelier as CT’s illness progressed. After forty-six years together, a lifetime was a lot to lose.