Car Sales Confidential

Chapter 4 Christmas Lasagna on House Arrest

CHRISTMAS LASAGNA ON HOUSE ARREST

It was Christmas Day, the setting sun revealing a silver-gray moon rising in the night sky. Our family of five is bundled up. A young couple in love, hand-in-hand, she is wearing a red dress, red coat, with a black fur muff. He is tall, but barely holding onto a heavy bag, and smiling through the pain and constant discomfort of a persistent, dangerous illness, although the family does not know just how sick he really is.

A mature couple is also struggling to manage the bags they're carrying. Another young lady, me, is using Christmas mismatched potholders to juggle a hot pan of homemade lasagna I put together using a time-tested family recipe only hours earlier.

My brother, Luke, son to the mature couple, was living in an suburban apartment house featuring a pond out back with no clear way to get to him but to walk a long winding path through brisk whistling December winds and then continue up some slippery steps to his front door.

"Trent, are you okay?" my concerned sister, Lana, had to ask after noticing the bag he was carrying almost slip out of his grasp.

"Why don't you let me take that?" she tried to insist.

"I'm good...now you're the one who looks frazzled," her husband, Trent, responded bravely, never wanting to burden anyone, much less his beautiful, loving wife, with the limitations imposed by his ever-advancing illness.

"Put your hands in that muff of yours," he politely ordered, letting go of her hand while reassuringly wrapping his arm around her.

I was also aware that Trent hadn't been himself lately, overheard what she said, and tried to move past an obvious concern for his physical welfare and get on with the visit.

"Trent, I can't wait to see Luke's face when you walk in the door! He finally got himself a nice place. Isn't the sky beautiful...it looks like a shiny black opal?"

I knew my brother had been struggling with depression and suicidal impulses. Earlier in the year he'd been released after two weeks in rehab. Now, I also had to face the likelihood that Trent was not well. Though quick cures are not likely for either of these two men I love dearly, one who's body was ill, the other whose mind was misfiring, I was sure that the best medicine for them both at the moment was for the family to be all together on Christmas Day.

"I brought some disposable plates so that no one has to wash dishes. I've also got the fixings for a salad that we can put together once we get inside. Dante, did you remember the dressing?" their mother, Gloria, told everyone, directing traffic being her German-American way of staying calm in challenging circumstances.

"Why of course I did...and just why would you think otherwise?" Dante, the always polite and tolerant patriarch of the family declared, half teasing, half serious as the couple, wed for over fifty years, was not above bickering over the littlest things—seemingly the show of emotion their way of reinforcing the fact that they still loved each other even after so many years together.

"Oh, look, there's that Black police officer who lives in the building, and he's got his dog, Dakota, with him," I said, always excited to see an old four-legged friend.

"Merry Christmas, Officer Dakota!" everyone chimed in jest as they walked past.

Lana reached the door first and rang the bell. Turning, she could see Trent's gaunt, tired face and said, "Sure you're okay, Hon?"

Their eyes met and somehow he managed to conceal how he was really feeling without speaking a word.

Luke was under house arrest, having just been released from court-ordered rehab after another difficult stretch abusing drugs and alcohol. Opening the door, he presented a courageous Aspergers survivor's smile to his family.

"Hi everybody...I can't believe you all really came! Hey Trent, good to see you up and about! You know I can't leave here or I would have been by for a visit way before now. Every day, even on holidays like today, I get a random call and I'd better be here to answer the phone or it's back to the..."

This gathering was a big deal for Luke. In all the years they'd known him he'd never hosted a family gathering. Too often centering around him was some mental illness, medical, or legal crisis which would bring them all together primarily to help Luke get back on his feet. Today, however, Luke had his I'm-okay-today game face on—smiling and happy.

"Trent, isn't this just the best apartment? Dad, you sit down and we'll start organizing dinner," I, the family's always upbeat Pollyanna, suggested, sensing things were off to a good start and wanting to keep it that way.

"Look at this big hall closet, right as you walk in. I wish we had one like it at home," Luke's mother, Gloria, chimed in, always the pragmatist and never shy about suggesting a new remodeling project for Dante, who along with my brother, Mathew, had the craft skills having designed and helped construct the new edition to our home.

"This is nice, Lara, and so neat and clean. I could even be comfortable living here. Perhaps Luke can help you learn how to keep a place tidy," Trent teased, having on occasion been to my quite a bit less than an orderly, organized pad.

Acting the good host, Luke takes everyone on a guided tour of his digs.

"Yeah, it's good here. The heat is included so I live it up and open the deck doors even in winter. And look, I even have two patios...and check out this cool linen closet," Luke continued.

"Lara, get over here and help me with the salad. Luke, Lara made your favorite lasagna and it will look so good served on that gorgeous dining room table of yours," Gloria mused.

"That is some table...it's a special kind of wood, isn't it?" Trent suggested.

"Yeah, teak, I oiled it yesterday, but something is wrong with one of the legs," Luke added, a Rain Man genius at some things, but not so good when it came to turning wrenches.

It would seem we're all born with certain gifts. With Luke it was about numbers and a unique personality that could charm the scales off a snake when he was in the right frame of mind—that is sober. A Mr. Fix-it, on the other hand, Luke just wasn't. So, Trent volunteered to get down on all fours with great physical difficulty to look under the table.

"Don't worry now...you know I know furniture. Let's see...I think we just need to turn this..."

Trent's family owned a furniture store, so he was the right man for this particular job, that is if he were his old self—before the illness began to sap his strength. Lana noticed right away and spoke up quietly, so only he could hear.

"What are you doing down there. Get up right now. Lara, come here and help him," Lana directed, simply carrying on the caregiver role she had to take on ever since Trent's illness began to extract a toll on his ability to lead a normal life.

Dante, a first-rate Mr. Fix-it in his own right, recognized that a problem was brewing and got up to see if he could help.

"Do you need a shim?" he suggested after feeling the wobble in the table leg.

I did as Lana suggested, got down under the table, but didn't insist that Trent stop what he was doing. Instead I provided moral support while he tightened up a loose wing nut.

After completing the simple task Trent was breathing heavily so I helped him to his feet. Luke had been watching the whole time, though because of being on the autism spectrum it was difficult for Luke to empathetically appreciate the sacrifice and suffering involved in what he was observing.

Instead of saying anything to Trent, Luke's mind turned to his stomach.

"Thanks man...really...so, Lara, what kind of lasagna is it anyway?"

POSTSCRIPT

In this true story of extraordinary family love and loyalty, a brother-in-law in his prime, who would soon die of cancer, pushed through his fatigue and discomfort to make an appearance on Christmas to visit his wife's brother who himself was struggling with the life-threatening effects of suicidal tendencies, depression, and drug abuse all connected to his mental illness conditions of Aspergers and bipolar disorder.