Dawn.
The sun was just coming up in the meadow. The green grass was still soggy from the dew. That foggy mist was evaporating around the mineral gray Ford Explorer. She sat in the front. The whole car had tan leather seats. He sat in the back. She set it up perfectly. He had his seatbelt on. He had a blanket on his lap. The doors are locked. The passenger seat window was slightly open. It was a perfect fit.
The engine was still running. It had a perfect whirring, rhythmic sound. BRRRRRRRRRRR!!
It sounded like a cat with bronchitis. Do cats get bronchitis? She thought. But there they were. Father and daughter in the car in the beautiful meadow.
He likes to talk. He likes to babble. She responds to him and answers him. But he also likes to repeat himself. It was childlike. This childlike act would have been cute if he was fine. But he was not fine. He had one time had a brilliant mind. He was intelligent, graduated from high school at 16. He was witty, sporty, and had lots of friends. She was also intelligent, witty, sporty, and had lots of friends. But that was all gone. Just like his mind and her mind was well.
She turns to him. “Does this remind you of something, dad?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t it remind you of our trips?”
“No.”
“The trip to Catskill Game Farm?”
“Oh, yeah! We went with the Miller family!”
“Yes, it was a good time!”
“Do you remember this meadow, dad?”
“What meadow?”
“The meadow we’re parked in.”
“Oh, didn’t we have a picnic here?”
“No, dad! It reminded me of Catskill Game Farm.”
And so, it continued. These conversations would go on and on, rapidly escalating into madness. “Dad?” She asked, “Remember when you took me to the Mets/Yankees game?” Sports was the one thing that they still could talk about without it going into complete insanity. “Yeah! Didn’t we sit with your uncle?” he slurred. “No, that was another game.” “It wasn’t? I was there!” his voice’s tone escalated. “I WAS THERE,” his voice escalated. “I KNOW IT!” She rescinded. “Calm down, dad! We were there!” “I know the truth,” she said to herself Even though she knew they weren’t “I’ll just keep it to myself.”
She kept on thinking, “He’s gone.” Now she had to figure out. She had to think about what she was doing. Being in a car nearing broad daylight. She would see an occasion squirrel. Maybe a blue jay flying near the myriad of maple and oak trees. The meadow made it possible for cars like her mother’s car to drive on. Parked in the middle of a field. She would be on this field when she was younger, running around with her brother. That same brother who abandoned the family, leaving her and mother with their dad. Leaving so he could travel all over the world with that girl. And she is a girl. At least 10 years her junior. Her frosted hair. Her frosted lips. Her frosted life. She gets an occasional face time call from wherever they were in Asia and then they were off to Australia. He got the life she always wanted.
And what about her being in the car with her brain addled father. What did he have again? Was it Alzheimer’s or dementia? Whatever it was, he wasn’t the same. And what about her? “I don’t have a life.” She thought to herself. And she was right. She had no life. She had no person in her life. She cut off all her friends which meant she had no interactions with them. She barely worked. She worried about her mother when dad started blabbering.
“Why are we out here?”
“I told you before,” she said. “The meadow reminds you of Catskill Game Farm.”
“I did?”
“Yes, daddy!”
“Oh, OK!”
And what about her mother? What she has to go through. Her mother had to watch the man she’s been with for four decades decline into oblivion. The man that swept her off her feet at a local dance. That great brain that helped with math homework. The man who coached Little League. The man who could tell you and describe each song on Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew album. The man who was the finest dancer at her father-daughter dances. The man who was looked upon as a pillar in business and his community, now shuffling like a two-year-old. He had to be dressed. He had to be watched. He was mixing fruit punch with Pepsi as a drink, something he wouldn’t do when he had a decent mind. He was pissing in his pants and in bed. That man. That husband. That daddy. He was gone. “My daddy was gone.” She said to herself.
“It’s nice around here,” he said. “Have we been here before?”
“Yes, daddy,” she said. “I told you. This place reminded you of Catskill Game Farm.”
“I did not!”
“YES, YOU DID, DADDY! I JUST TOLD YOU FIVE MINUTES AGO!”
It was no use. There was no reason to yell at him. He’s not a child. But then again, he is a child. A big sixty something, shuffling, grey-haired child. But her head was going back and forth. “This is wrong,” she thought. “This is suicide.” The exhaust finally was filling the inside of the car. It was getting smoky. She started to cough and think at the same time. This is deadly. THIS IS MURDER! Someone will find the car. Someone will find them. Someone will find their bodies. The police will go to the home to tell the family.
On the other hand, they would both be free. Free. No worries. All ills will be gone. No worries. “Why do they always say that?” she thought again. “Why do they say, ‘they are feeling no pain’ or ‘they’re in a better place.’” What place? This wasn’t a time to be philosophical. But that “better place” is what, a coffin? A body bag? A morgue? Mother, brother, and frosty tipped chippie weeping over our bodies? Mom asking what did she do wrong and then yell at her brother for not being there for him, your sister and her?
Now, it was happening. The vacuum hose on the exhaust was beginning to do its job. The carbon monoxide was starting to fill the inside of the car. She’s getting sleepy. Her thoughts were becoming less translucent. Discombobulating. Delusional. It was becoming completely smoky. She had one eye open. She decided that this was the right thing to do. Was it selfish? Perhaps. Was it wrong? Of course, it was. But it didn’t matter. It is what it is. Dad was not going to get any better. She wasn’t going to find a decent job. She wasn’t going to find decent friends. She was never going to get married. She was never going to have a baby. She was never going to have the life that she wanted. So, it was time.
Then daddy talked. “I’m getting sleepy,” he said. “Do you mind if I lie down?”
“No, Dad!”
“Who are you again?”
“It’s me,” she coughed. “Your daughter!”
“Oh, okay!
Why did you leave me, daddy? Why are you this way? Please come back, daddy! Please bring your brain back! I want you back, daddy! I WANT YOU BACK!
“Good night!”
“Good night, daddy!”
A car pulls into the driveway. Mom is awoken by it. “Where is he?” she says. She puts on her multicolored fleece bathrobe. She gets out of bed and looks for him. He’s not in the bathroom. He’s not in the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness,” she thought. “Please don’t wander.” But where was she? She’s not in her room. The computer was on her bed. It was closed. She picks up the phone to call her, but her cell phone was still plugged in. She didn’t take it with her. She went downstairs and opened the garage door. The Ford Escape was still there, but the Ford Explorer was not. “Where are they?”
While she was fretting, the doorbell rings. It’s the police. As she opens the door, a red-faced, burly cop is staring at her. She sees his badge number 908450. She also noticed the name on his tag: SCHERMER.
“Ma’am?” he said. “Do you own a Ford Explorer?”
“Yes,” she said. “A mineral gray one.”
She ties her fleece bathrobe and wrings her hands together. The policeman’s looks of concern began to agitate her.
“Well, Officer Schermer,” she says in anguish. “Is there a problem?”
“We found your car,” he said. Then she stiffened as he began to hesitate.
“And?” she said.
“We found them.”
She gritted her teeth.
“Their battery stalled, and they walked to the police station,” He said, with a slight grin on his face. My partner is driving them to your house.”
