How would you react if you knew that your time was almost up? Would you think about the past, or focus on the future generations? What if your spouse was no longer with you and your parents were now watching over you from above? What if the only close friend left in your life was your sibling? I know what I would do, because that was my situation.
We were sitting in the porch, and a cool breeze ruffled through my thin, fully grey hair. My brother was sitting next to me on a blue beach chair, singing in his deep, scratchy voice, "It's nine o'clock on a Saturday, the regular crown shuffles in. There's an old man sitting next to me..." There are a couple of theings wrong with those lyrics at this time. First of all, it was 5 p.m. on a Thursday; second, it's only us; and third, I'm an old lady, not an old man. I looked around at our surroundings. It was autumn, and leaves of all colors, red, brown, yellow, and occasionally purple floated to the ground.
"Aren't they beautiful?" I murmured.
"Very," Ben said. He slowly stood up, reached for his cane, and limped to the screened window. The he turned his head and smiled. "Look, Jeanette," he said. "Does that remind you of anybody?" I walked over to him and peered down the road. Orange neon cones were up and children were playing. I singled out two kids who looked to be brother and sister. I had seen them around town before. The girl's name was Sadie; she had dark brown hair and she was skinny, and the boy was Mark; who had cuts and bruises all over his body. Sadie had covered her eyes and was counting to ten, and Mark quickly jumped into the leaf pile to hide.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Sadie shouted.
"Those were the days," I whispered.
"I remember," Ben said. After you were done counting, you would say, 'Where are you?' and I would jump up and say, 'Here I am!' You would get so mad at me for giving myself away and would lecture me about how t stay hidden." He chuckled. "I was only four, you know."
I nudged him and said, “I wasn’t the only annoying one. I recall that by the time you were ten, you knew your tricks. On my 13th birthday even, you gave me a present of plastic, yet fuzzy, tarantula.”
“Department stores were where we really acted up,” Ben said. “I remember especially, though, one time when you were ten and I was seven. It was during the summer, and we were at Macy’s.”
“I remember now,” I said. “I was supposed to be watching you while Mom got her outfil for Aunt Beth’s wedding. I turned away for a second to look at a pink, flowery doll house. I played with it for a minute, then reached out to take your hand so I could guide you to the boy’s toys. My hand grasp cold air. You were gone! I ran back to where we had just come from and then to the chlothes section. I searched for you in the hangers. All I got was a mouthful of fur from the coats. I couldn’t find you anywhere!”
“It turned out,” Ben finished the story, “I had found my way to the Star Wars torys all by myself. That was the one place you didn’t check. You scolded me 24-seven for the next month!”
“But that same day, after we were all done shopping, I did something bad myself.”
“Yup. I couldn’t believe it.”
I nodded. “I stole…… a ChapStick!” We both burst into laughter. “I can’t explain it,” I breathed. “I just really, really wanted it.”
“You learned your lesson, though,” Ben reminded me.
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Mom gave me my punishment. She humiliated me! Remember I had to go back and apologize, and return the ChapStick?
“Oh, the good old days,” he teased. I pushed him.
Ben returned to his chair and I followed. He sighed. “Mom definitely had her hands full with us, he said. “But I thought at least I was sweet.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” I said, laughing. “That was me. I remember Mom telling me that when you were born, I wouldn’t let go of you. ‘You almost choked him to death!’ she said.
“That sounds like you,” my brother said. “Always cuddly.”
“But it is true,” I said slowly. “That you were sweet and helpful.”
“Really?” he asked sarcastically.
“Because when Mom was gone…” I started, and Ben reached for my hand
“We supported each other,” he said, finning my sentence for me. I held his hand tight and leaned against him. “Jeanette,” Ben whispered. I stared into his wide, brown eyes. His hair was not yet completely grey; I could still se a few wisps of dirty blonde hair that had stayed his natural color. “Jeanette,” he said again. “I never thought we would make it without her. She was the best mother one could ever have.”
“I know,” I nodded. “I still feel that way sometimes. When I glance down at the necklace Mom gave me when I was six, I start to cry.”
“That was a scary time, wasn’t it?” Ben reminded me. “Horrifying,” I amended. “Daddy was out in Gaithersburg, visiting friends for the evening. He was supposed to be home around 8 p.m. Around 7:30 though, it started to drizzle. We thought nothing of it, just that it would be a could night. We curled up on the couch, waiting for him to come home, with our plaid, used, fuzzy blankets wrapped around us. In 15 minutes time, it started to hail.
“Don’t remind me,” Ben closed his eyes. “I was only three years old. The sound was like bombs in my ears.”
“I know,” I whispered. “ It was 8:23, and we were still waiting. We listened to the radio, and, hearing that 4-95 was backed up (that was where dad was, remember), we waited with big hearts. Mom gave me that necklace, and I never let go of it. By the time it was 9:30, Mom told us that it was time to go to bed. What she didn’t know was that earlier, when she and dad were talking on the phone-”
“We were listening!” Ben cried out. “Dad was worried he was going to have to sleep at McDonald’s for the night! Right when we were climbing the stairs, Dad’s car pulled up. We were so relieved!”
“That night, we created strong bonds between us,” I sobbed into Ben’s shoulder. “I miss mom every second of each day!”
“But you know she’s gone.” Ben was now acting like the older sibling. “She’ll always be with you.” I slowly stopped my tears, and we were silent for a few moments.
It was now around 6 p.m., so we went inside to have dinner, the awkwardness behind us. When we were done, we decided to retire for the night. We were both excited for tomorrow, for it was Ben’s 81st birthday.
“Goodnight, Jeanette,” he said.
“Goodnight,” I replied.
The next morning, I waited as long as I could for Ben to get up. The kitchen was decorated with red and blue, his favorite colors. I had made coffee cake for breakfast, and for dessert later, lemon cake. I looked around. Something was missing. The family, I thought to myself. I stood there, lost in thought. I remembered the birthday parties we used to have, about 25 years ago, when the folks would come down south. With us living in Maryland and them in New Jersey, it would always be hard for them, being they were both 93 and having back and knee aches every minute of the day, but they still visited. Those days are over, I forced myself to believe. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect.
At 10 a.m., I went into Ben’s room. Photographs plastered the tan walls, and his dresser had everything I had given him from the past two years on it: the basket I gave him last Chanukah, a wristband with the words “Go Glenwood!” on it, and other silly things he had kept. I went over to his queen-sized bed and tried to shake him awake. I didn’t work. I felt his cheeks, cold. Then, slowly, I put my head to his chest. Nothing. I started to weep. Soon my face was tear-streaked and red. And then, I gave him a kiss.
I felt sad, but satisfied. I had given him a few laughs yesterday and had reminded him of what’s important. My mouth curled into a smile as I recalled what had been discussed the day before. Plus, I had given him a good life. I had watched over him for 81 years. And just like Mom, I will never forget or stop loving him.
Despite how annoying he was.
The end!
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