Page 7 of Swimming in Grief (Monster Match season two)

Reuben

I finally had to go back to work on Monday. I put on my usual suit and tie; I had always preferred t-shirts and shorts, but in the corporate world, a suit was your armor and your shield. Anything less, and you might as well be in your underwear. Walking into the office that first morning back, I wasn’t sure what to expect. My manager had at least been understanding of the situation, which I knew was a blessing that many people did not have when it came to emergencies. It was a strange mixture of people being exceptionally quiet and awkward around me, and others being overly friendly and helpful. But oddly enough, no one mentioned Kyle by name. In fact, very few of them even asked me how I was feeling. It seemed like an unspoken rule that they did not want to mention any unpleasantness that could result in making me upset, so everyone just sort of danced around it.

And then there was my meeting yesterday with Glauruss that kept replaying in my head. I hesitated to call what we had a date, since we hadn’t really agreed that it was a date, just getting together to talk. He had been nice. He seemed to genuinely care how I felt about what was going on. But I noticed how quickly he knocked back all of his drinks at the Bayside Breeze. I had thought that by us going to his boat, he might be done drinking, but I had been wrong. And the fact that every time I had mentioned family, he had clammed up and gotten really uncomfortable. There was something painful there, something that he did not want to talk about. Which I could understand. Perhaps it was something I could help with, but he and I barely knew each other. We had not yet established that relationship, that bond of trust and friendship.

I actually wondered if I would hear from him again at all. We had not left on the best terms. If I didn’t hear from him by Wednesday, I figured I’d write back and at least apologize for anything I said that caused him pain. But I actually got a notification in Kyle’s email Tuesday night that there was a message from Glauruss. I opened it up.

SeaKing Swimmer: Hey sorry about Sunday. You didn’t do anything wrong I just have a hard time talking about family. Do you want to get together again?

That question made me think. We could easily go our separate ways now if we wanted. But having someone who hadn’t known Kyle and didn’t find it as awkward when I talked about him was kind of nice. And it got me out of the house. I didn’t want to turn into a complete hermit with Kyle gone. That wasn’t healthy for me. So, I wrote back.

FabTeacher: That’s ok, we both have stuff we’re dealing with. I’d like to get together again. When?

SeaKing Swimmer: Sunday same time again?

FabTeacher: Works for me!

SeaKing Swimmer: I’ll meet you at the dock, we can hang out on my boat? Maybe take it out for a bit?

FabTeacher: Sounds good, as long as I don’t fall over board!

SeaKing Swimmer: I promise I wont let you!!

I had until Sunday before I saw Glauruss again. This was going to be a long week.

And it was. I found myself vacillating between depression and anger. More than once, I had a breakdown in my office at work and had to lock myself in a bathroom stall until the tears passed, my fist pressed against my mouth to muffle the screams that tried to break free. It would come out of nowhere, which was more than a little frustrating. But I supposed grief wasn’t on a schedule.

My fifty-first birthday came and went, like any other day. No one remembered. I barely even remembered myself, which was all right with me. I spent the evening on the couch with a half-gallon of cookie dough ice cream and finished the television series Kyle and I had been watching. When I went to bed that night, I cried and held Kyle’s urn in my arms.

I decided on Saturday to drive the two hours one way to go visit my dad. It had been about six weeks since I had visited him; Kyle and I had planned to go see him again soon. I wanted to tell him about Kyle, though I had no idea if he would actually remember him, or even me.

One of the nurses at the care center escorted me to his room. I had brought a box of chocolate raspberry cremes, his favorite candy, and I set it on the little table nearby. “Hi, Dad,” I said as I sat down in the chair next to the bed.

Benjamin Thompson gazed back at me, the whites of his eyes more of an ivory now. He had been a large man in his youth; his whole side of the family had always been ‘big boned.’ But his ailing mental health had obviously taken its toll on his body, his skin loose and wrinkled. He had been such a strong man up until my momma passed away. I wondered if I was looking at my future self. Would my mind start to go too as I got older, living alone without my spouse by my side?

“Hello,” he rasped politely, but there was no recognition of me in his face.

I took his hand in mine. He had big hands, but the skin was stretched taut over the bones. He was definitely frailer than he had been the last time I came to see him. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that he was not much longer for this world.

“I wanted to let you know, Kyle passed away recently,” I said, keeping my voice gentle so as not to disturb him. My father looked at me, and I could see that the name held no meaning for him. “My husband, Kyle,” I added. Still nothing.

“I’m sorry, Jacob,” my father said, patting my thigh with his withered hand. “I’m sure you’ll see him again soon.”

Jacob was my father’s younger brother, the uncle that had died more than thirty years ago from a drug overdose. But the fact that my dad associated any name with me at all in his advanced dementia was a blessing.

“Yeah, I probably will.”

“When is Linda coming to visit?” he asked me.

My momma, Linda, had been dead for eight years now. When my father’s memory had started to go and he would ask that question, myself or one of the nurses would gently remind him that Linda was dead. But every time I said it, I saw the hope die in the old man’s eyes, the desolation and sorrow that passed over him. Kyle had been the first one to answer, “She’s coming tomorrow, Benny.” That simple statement had made my dad’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. I worried that the lie would hurt him, that he would be devastated the next day when his wife never appeared. But my father had not seemed to remember, asking us again when Linda was coming. ‘Tomorrow’ was always the answer, even though ‘tomorrow’ never came. I knew one of these days, it would; he would leave this life and be reunited with my momma. “She’s coming tomorrow, Dad.”

He seemed satisfied with that answer, his lips curling back in a sort of grotesque way. He squeezed my hand. “What’s your name?”

“Reuben,” I said.

“Reu… ben…” He said the word like it meant something to him, and hope sparked in my chest. But then he turned eyes back to the ceiling and went quiet, and the hope faded again.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I would suffer the same fate when I got older, having my brain turn on me, making me afraid of people around me or unable to comprehend who or what was happening or where I was. If I had had Kyle by my side for it, I imagined it would be better. I could only hope that if it did ever come to that, someone would be kind enough to tell me ‘tomorrow’ when I looked for Kyle.

I held my father’s hand until he fell asleep, and then I still just sat there, keeping ahold of him. Another long goodbye. It had been the same way with my momma, with months of deteriorating health as the cancer ravaged her body. It had been almost a relief when she had passed. I thought that it might be the same when the time came for my dad. Was a long goodbye better than no goodbye at all? Why did it seem like there was no medium between suddenly gone and hanging on but not really there? I wondered if perhaps Kyle and I would have had a long goodbye, one of us getting sick as we grew older together. Would that have been easier to handle? It was silly to speculate, but there was that little part of me that I knew would always wonder ‘what if?’