Alone

Alone

My friend Jason called.  He’s a wedding photographer.

“Listen, the girls are making pizza; there’s more cheese than dough.  Why don’t you and Rainier come over for dinner?”

“Sounds delicious.  Actually I’m just heading out.  Dad’s in the hospital.”

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know the whole story, but he nearly collapsed.  He hasn’t been doing so well.”

“I’m so sorry.  What time is your flight?”

“I’m driving.”

Pause.

I closed the trunk of my car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Rainier’s going, too, right?”

“Jason, Rainier isn’t here.  I haven’t seen him for a week.”

There was a time when I knew Rainier’s entire schedule, and he would call me every day.  There was a time when we couldn’t be around each other enough.  Our jobs were a chore and we lived for the moment we’d spend together.  

You are so quick to make friends, Grandma said to me.  When I was little I had lots of sleep overs.  Not everybody was my best friend, but I did have a lot of friends.  Carla was the Hispanic girl whose mother always braided her long hair.  She wore braces and slept with colored rubber bands in her mouth.  Nicole was the most stuck-up friend I had.  The boys in our class thought she was the prettiest with her wavy blond hair and blue eyes.  She was very fashion conscience.  Mandie Pattel was always know by her first and last name together.  Her father made the most money of the parents represented in our elementary school.  She was a very giving person and always had something different for lunch each day of the week.  Coral was the strange one.  She slept without any underwear and was convinced all the boys had a crush on her.  Grandma cared for neither of those girls.  She only liked Yuri.  Yuri was Japanese, and she was smart.  Common sense was obvious to her.  Grandma could talk to her, and Yuri knew how to carry a conversation.  I don’t know where she is now, but I think of her often, especially when I need to be pragmatic.  Her family moved from the area the summer before we entered high school.  

“What do you mean?  Where is he?  Have you called him?”

I was startled that I still held the cell phone to my hear.  

“Jason, I have to go.  Tell the girls and Dee hi for me.”

The only time I think about having children is when I am around Jason’s two girls, Katya and Sophia.  Age seven and four.  I knew them since they were born.  They are the cutest, happiest little people I’ve ever known, and Jason is there ready to capture their precious ordinary moments with his camera.  Often when I need a smile or something to perk up my day I would visit his blog of his girls and laugh at their silly and all too expressive expressions.  Jason’s a good father.  If I were to have children, I would want to be able to give them the kind of environment Jason has for his girls.  That didn’t mean I wanted children in the future, though.  If I wanted children it was because I’ve seen how good it could be.  My life is easier without people depending on me.  

How can you have so many friends? Grandma would ask.  She never understood why I had a group of girls around me most of my spare time.  I was either doing this or going there or bringing this person home.  You don’t have time to settle, she would say.  You need time to settle your mind and be alone every once in a while.  It’s not healthy to be surrounded by people all the time.  Chezy always hated when Grandma said that to her, too.  Instead of just listening and shutting up Chezy had to argue.  It wasn’t until I went to college that I understood what Grandma meant.  College was a different world, and I had a hard time making or finding friends.  

The phone rang.

Mom.  “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi Mom.”

Deep sigh.

“Mom, I’m on my way.”

“What?”

“I just left the house.  I’m driving home.”

“Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.  That’s a long drive for you.  It’s going to be dark soon.”

“I drive better in the dark, Mom.  Really it’s ok.  Do you need anything?”

“They’ve scheduled your father for surgery.”

“What did they say?”

“He’s going to need a bypass.”

Dad was never the type to get sick, or if he did he didn’t have time for it and pressed through.  He was never weak physically.  He always did things; cleaned the gutters, raked the lawn, mowed the grass, trimmed the hedges, ran the yearly marathon, attended football games, patched the roof and tinkered with the plumbing.  Mom relied on his ability to know how to do things.  Even though they ended up drifting in separate directions the longer they remained together, they depended on each other.  Mom was content with the security Dad provided.  Dad didn’t complain about the comforts of home.  They had a system.  For them it worked.  

I wondered if they ever wanted out.  People who are in love have good times to talk about with their friends.  People who are through with each other can’t bear to be in the same room.  People who are trapped talk of the weather and generalities.  The subject matter never struck home; it never reached the depth of what their heart was crying for.  Rather, such things were suppressed when such people are among company.

I don’t talk about Rainier.  Those good times are dusty memories better left alone.  I’ve tried reliving them only to realize I no longer have my rose-colored glasses.  

“They’ll take good care of him, Mom.”

“I know they will.  Your aunts and uncles are here.  It is quite the entourage in the waiting room.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Sweetheart, it’s ok.  There’s no need for you to drive all that way.  Turn around; go home.  It’s dark.  We’re fine.  It’s all going to be fine.”

“I’m by myself, Mom.”

Pause.  “What about your job?”

“It can wait.”

“Really, sweetheart, we’re fine, but if you think...”

“I should get there some time after 10 a.m.”