Empty House: Part 2

Finished taping up a box, Jack looked down at his watch. Most of the morning had evaporated as he packed. Elaine and the grandkids would be there any minute. The living room looked strange and unfamiliar to him, he hadn’t seen it so empty since he and Suzy had first moved in. All the furniture Jack could move was pushed neatly by the door and Jack has spent most of the morning filling box after box with knick-knacks and memories. All of his books were packed away, and Suzy’s china was carefully wrapped up. It was odd that Suzy hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, but maybe she really needed the rest. Jack stacked the box along the wall with the rest and then pulled on a heavy sweater. He decided he would let Suzy sleep as much as possible and that he would wait for Elaine outside. The fresh air would do him some good.

He hadn’t been waiting long when a green minivan pulled into the driveway. As soon as the car was parked the sliding door raced down its track and a barefoot boy in a blue soccer uniform came sprinting across the yard kicking up amber oak leaves as he went. Kaden, Elaine’s 8-year-old son, plowed into Jack for a hug without slowing down. It hurt, but Jack wouldn’t trade Kaden’s enthusiasm for the world.

“Kaden be easy on your Grandfather!” shouted Elaine while working to unload empty boxes from the hatchback.

“Grandpa!” exclaimed Kaden, ignoring his mother. “I scored two goals today!”

“You don’t say? I think that earns you a dollar, you better take this” said Jack handing Kaden a bank-fresh dollar bill from his wallet. “Put that in your pocket before your mother sees.”

“Sweet! Thanks!” Kaden shouted, then added “Mom says that after we get you moved you will be able to come all the time.”

Jack ruffled Kaden’s hair and laughed “I wouldn’t miss them.”

Mary, Elaine’s oldest walked up giving Jack a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before she sat down on the stoop and opened her book. Last to walk across the lawn were Matt, an athletic boy of fifteen and Elaine, both carrying awkward armloads of flattened packing boxes.

“we’re just getting the small stuff now,” Elaine explained to Matt. “Your dad is coming by later for the furniture.”

Matt threw down his stack of boxes and slid Mary over so he could have a seat, putting a dangling ear-bud back in his ear.

“Apparently you are ruining his life,” translated Mary without looking up from her book. Elaine shrugged and smiled hesitantly at Jack.

“Dad, how are you?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“Oh, I’m doing alright. This chill wants to take the strength out of my old bones, but I’m as ready as anybody for some heavy lifting.”

“Well let’s get started then,” Elaine said with relief. “I’m glad you are on board with this Dad, it’s going to be so much nicer having you closer and out of this big empty house.” The four of them filed their way into the living room.

 

“Grandpa, come here!” Called out Mary from half way down the attic ladder. “I want to show you something.”

Carefully climbing the ladder, Jack poked his head up into the attic, and looked around, dust floated lazily through the sunbeams coming through the window. Getting his bearings Jack hefted himself up until he was sitting on the floor.

“Oh Geez, I haven’t been up here in ages,” he said taking stock of the numerous boxes he had tucked away and then forgotten about. Mary sat in one of the only spaces not occupied by junk, a couple of half packed boxes surrounding her.

“I thought we were supposed to be packing, not unpacking,” he teased as Mary pulled something out of a box. Mary laughed, exposing two slight dimples.

“Nah, this is more fun.” She raised a blocky, black and grey camera with what appeared to be folding billows to her eye. “Say cheese, Grandpa” she said, pushing the button. There was a click and then the old Polaroid began emitting a low buzzing sound.

“How did you get that old thing to work? Asked Jack. “Where did you even find it?”

“Please, you never throw anything away,” said Mary,  pulling out the photo and waving it back and forth. “the instructions were in the box.” She blew on the photo and then handed the black and white portrait to him. “There! Look at that handsome devil” Jack wasn’t so sure, but he smiled anyways. Mary had already turned away. “Look, it even has a self-timer!” she balanced the camera precariously on a short stack of boxes and hitting the shutter she quick-stepped her way behind Jack and hugged him around the neck. Jack reached up and put one hand on top of hers, smiling for the picture. The camera beeped and then clicked before buzzing again.

“There are a lot of great old pictures up here,” she continued, while waiting for the new picture to develop. “I even found your wedding album.” She handed a shoebox of loose pictures to Jack who began sifting through, smiling at the memories.

“Your grandma would love this.” Said Jack letting the pictures fall back into the box one-by-one. Marry continued waving the polaroid in the air.

“Yeah I wished we could show her.” She looked down at the developing photograph, blowing on it gently.

“Well, let’s start bringing some of these boxes downstairs, and we can show her. It is well past time she got out of bed.

Mary didn’t reply.

“Mary?”

“You were doing so good this time Grandpa.”

Empty House: Part 1

Jack felt the heavy quilt slip down as he tried to rearrange his pillows as he leaned against the headrest. It was still dark outside, making it difficult for him to guess how much time he had before his alarm went off. The cool night air prickled his exposed arms. Jack blew a few warm breaths into his hands before wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Sleep didn’t come easily anymore and Jack found himself falling asleep later and waking up earlier. Arthritis had set in making eight hours of sleep a challenge. His doctor had prescribed him some sleep medication to get him through the night and a host of other pills to get him through the day. They did their job, keeping the aches and pains at bay, but the sleeping pills could do little to prevent his dreams from troubling him. Jack pressed his palms deep into his eyes trying to remember what had shaken him from his sleep.

The air was wet and fresh and there was a faint scent flowers and earth in it. He held a large white daisy in his hand.

He pressed his palms in deeper, as he tried to remember more. Every time he felt himself getting close to the memory it slipped through his grasp, like fine sand pouring through his fingers.

He sat for a long while with his arms up revealing the sweat stains on his undershirt. Eventually the chill air of the room caused little goose bumps to rise on his arms and his neck hair to stand on end. His body convulsed suddenly as something of a mixture of a shudder and a shiver overtook him. With a deep sigh Jack decided to face the day. His dream had stolen any remnant of sleep from him and besides he had plenty to do.

Elaine and the grandkids would be coming over later that morning to help him move and he still had to finish packing. He had five kids. Elaine was the only girl and the only one who still lived close enough to visit. She made the trip with her kids as often as she could, but Jack missed the days when it was easier for him to get about and he didn’t have to miss as many soccer games and choir recitals. That was why they had finally decided he should move closer.

He looked over to his wife’s side of the bed. She hadn’t moved despite his abrupt departure from slumber and for that he was thankful. He braced himself for his arthritis to kick in, and then slung his legs out from under the quilt to land on the pale yellow shag carpet. Out of bed he looked back. For some time now Suzy hadn’t been feeling well. Mostly it was old age he thought, she was just slowing down like he was. Some extra sleep would help her regain some of her vitality he hoped.

A few steps short of the door a soft meow reached his ears. He looked over to the corner of the room where a pair of eyes shined softly in the dark.

“Well, Come on,” he said.

Without further ado the cat rose and sauntered over to jack in the way only cats can. He was still young, filling out his slender form. Elaine and the kids had given him to Jack a few months ago; another guy to keep him company in his old age. At first Jack protested, but in the end he did it for the grandkids. He reached down and scratched the grey fur behind the ears and under the chin as the cat rubbed against his legs purring. The kids named him Charcoal, but Jack called him Charley.

“Good morning to you too,” Jack said, giving one last scratch and opening the door so Charley could run out to his food dish.

Padding down the hall after the cat Jack turned into the bathroom. At seventy-five his eyesight was poor and without his glasses he walked mostly from memory and long years of routine. That was something he was going to miss. At his age it wasn’t going to be easy to pick up and start over again in a new place, but he reminded himself how it would make it easier to see his grandkids. Still, he was going to miss his routines, the house, even the yellow shag carpet. All of his memories had the kids playing on that carpet. Jack chuckled at himself as he peeled off his undershirt, slipped off his boxer shorts and stepped into the shower.

“Of all the things to be nostalgic about,” Jack muttered to himself shaking his head and turning on the hot water, “Honestly, shag carpet.”

He stayed in the shower a few minutes longer than he needed, letting the hot water push out the chill and relax away both his physical pains and the anxiety from his dream. It frustrated him that he couldn’t remember more of it, but there was no point lingering on it and he let the water wash it away.

Out of the shower, Jack tuned and studied himself in the mirror. Time had not been kind. His once distinguished salt-and-pepper hair was now a uniform white, and Jack noted the deep creases in his brow, the chipmunk like cheeks, and the lines around his eyes. He smiled at his reflection and watched as the wrinkles transformed his face. He smiled wider. No, time had not been kind, but he figured he and Suzy could squeeze a few more grains of sand out of Father Time’s hourglass.