Irene

He turned his eyes to the warm June morning sun. The curtains danced in the breeze coming from the open window and he smiled as he thought of dancing with her. He remembered the way her hair would bounce as he spun her across the floor, her smile bright with joy. For a moment all was well, and then he remembered that everything had changed.

The coffee maker beeped, and he walked over to the kitchen. He took down her favorite mug and filled it to the brim. No room for cream but three full scoops of sugar found their way into the dark, warm beverage. He knew she would hate that, but he’d always been a sucker for sweet. With a deep sigh he went back to the living room and settled into his worn recliner.

She never wanted a recliner, she said they were for “old people”, but he thought there was nothing better after a long day than relaxing into the chair and watching the news, cold beer in hand. Eventually there were days he’d come home, and she would be asleep in the chair, softly snoring in the recliner’s comfort. Eventually it became her chair, with a permanent pile of books next to it on the side table.

Eventually it became his again.

The phone rang but he couldn’t be bothered. He knew what the call would be, the words said and how he’d have to respond. He’d had the same conversation for weeks now and he was tired of the script. He set his coffee on the table and closed his eyes for a moment. Flashes of her raced through his mind – the freckles on her fingers, her crooked front tooth, the scar on her ankle from when she fell down the ravine. They’d been kids when they met, and he knew from day one she was it. Feisty when she wanted to be and sweet when she needed to be, she was the best of both worlds. At 12 years old that’s all a boy can ask for. Well, that and a stolen kiss or two behind the slide at recess.

It was a simpler time, those days. They would climb up to his brother’s treehouse and spend hours reading and drawing, putting together LEGO creations. Sometimes they’d walk to Dairy Queen and share a hot fudge sundae and French fries. He remembered the feel of her fingers the first time he took her hand – soft but with calluses building up. He never wanted to let it go.

At 18 he was working at his father’s hardware store, and she was the new girl at Jinx’s Diner. With her smirking smile and shining eyes, the tips came in like crazy. She saved every penny, telling him it was for her wedding dress. He’d ask who she was planning to marry, and she’d pout until he swore he’d marry her someday. As if she really had any doubt.

By 25 they had a toddler and a baby on the way. He had a manager position at the hardware store, and it was a given that he’d take over the business in the future. His dad was already enjoying the benefits of partial retirement and being a grandfather. No child had ever been spoiled like their little girl. But they agreed that no child deserved to be spoiled more than she. When her brother was born, she took being a big sister very seriously and they grew up close, to this day living only an hour away from one another.

They remained close to their parents as well. He thought about all their anniversaries and holidays together, the laughter and music ringing in his ears. Sure, there were hard times too. Tears and words spoken in anger, a drive late at night to calm down. But the good always made up for the bad and the bad never lasted too long.

Until now.

She was in their room, still asleep. He didn’t know what she dreamed of, or if she dreamed at all, but he hoped that time was peaceful for her. When she woke, she may not know what year it was or why he was in her home. And those times were the hardest.

He’d begun noticing a difference in her when she turned 50. Little things, like forgetting the word for computer or not remembering appointments. Then she drove to the grocery store and sat in the parking lot for two hours, not knowing why she was there. One day he came home, and she looked at him confused for a moment, as if she didn’t recognize him, before exclaiming hello. He knew then that something was wrong.

She refused to see the doctor at first. The kids tried to convince her; her best friend tried. He tried. She wouldn’t have any of it. She said she was fine, and she wasn’t sick, so she didn’t need the doctor. Her stubbornness had only gotten worse with age. Finally, the day she forgot that she had a grandchild, she agreed she needed help. Her eyes in that moment were the saddest he’d ever seen.

It was agreed that she didn’t need to go into a home. She could be taken care of at their home with some help and medication. He didn’t want strangers coming into the house, so he left the store in the capable hands of his manager and committed his days to his wife. Most days felt normal with her puttering around in the garden or reading and making them tea. He took over cooking duties or calling in takeout duties, depending on the day. The atmosphere was relaxed on those days, and he could feel positive about the future.

Some days he became nostalgic and convinced her to take a drive to Dairy Queen and share a sundae. He would take her to her favorite bookstore, and they’d end up at the park, sitting on the picnic blanket kept in the trunk of the car. She would read and he would watch her light up with the turning of the page. She’d always enjoyed a good mystery, but these days stuck to happier books: romance and humor. He could tell when she came to a more “romantic” part of the book because she would giggle softly, and the tips of her ears would turn pink. He would smirk at her which made her giggle even more and then would read the paragraphs to him. He would turn pretty red himself sometimes.

Years went by and he tried to stay optimistic, but he knew the time was coming when she’d have to leave. He couldn’t imagine a day without her in the home, so he prolonged it as long as possible. A nurse started to come by to help with bathing and therapy. The kids came by once a week to give him a break. But he didn’t want a break. He didn’t want help. He was her husband; it was his duty to care for her for better or for worse.

There was a knock on the door and his daughter came in, already in tears. She’d sworn she wouldn’t get upset but she was never good at keeping her emotions at bay. They embraced and held each other for a few moments. He then held her at arms length and smiled. She looked just like her mother.

His son then walked in, shaking his head at the tears. The opposite of his sister, he seldom showed his true emotions, but a quiver of his lips told the truth. He was having a hard time with this as well.

If there was nothing else he could be proud of in this world, he could be proud of his children and the people they’d become. He wouldn’t take all the credit; he believed his wife had more to do with it than he did. All the same, he felt such overwhelming joy when he looked at them and almost couldn’t believe they were his blood.

His daughter went up to rouse her mother. They’d decided not to bring in the nurse today since there would be enough caregivers going forward. This morning would be about them.

The shower turned on upstairs and he turned to set the table: yellow tablecloth dotted with daisies, a carafe of coffee and matching mugs, cinnamon rolls from the bakery across town, and a bouquet of pink roses. He put on her favorite record and let the music calm him. The room was cozy with sunlight and for a second, he was able to forget what this was for.

He heard her giggle and turned to see her and their daughter making their way to the table. Her hair was a white crown, and her smile was the answer to peace. Though frail and stooped, he saw her as the Queen she’d always be to him. Tears pricked his eyes, and he wiped them quickly so she wouldn’t see. There was no need to upset her today.

He pulled her chair out for her, and she gracefully sat down admiring the roses. She softly hummed along with the music as the rest of them took their places. When coffee and cinnamon rolls had been passed around, he nodded to their children.

Their daughter started: “Mom … I just want you to know how much you have always meant to me. Since I was a little girl, you have been my role model, and I wanted to grow up to be just like you. You are one of the strongest women I know. I’m so glad I can say you’re my mother.”

His wife smiled softly.

Then their son spoke: “We are who we are today because of you. What you taught us, how you guided us. I’ve always been so proud to call you my mother. Thank you.”

His wife smiled again, and her eyes drifted back to the roses.

He began to speak: “My wife. My best friend. My person. My reason for living and being a good man. You have been all these things and will continue to be for the rest of our lives. You gave me these beautiful children and this beautiful life. I would never have been able to repay you for all of these things. I tried to do my best for you and will continue to do so for as long as we live.”

His wife began humming again and looked around the table, eyes bright but confused.

“Thank you for this lovely meal but I must be going. My boyfriend is waiting for me; we’re going to get ice cream and walk along the river. It’s a beautiful day for it, don’t you think?”

He took a deep breath, looked down, and nodded. “A beautiful day, yes. It is.”

Raising his head, he could see even his son had tears in his eyes. He knew this was it; the moment he’d been dreading so long was here. It was time for her to go.

“Perhaps we could give you a ride,” his daughter suggested. “We’re just heading out ourselves after all.”

His wife took a moment, then smiled a thank you.

They walked her to the Lexus, which had been her anniversary gift 15 years prior. Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed that she’d never been in such a nice car before. He helped her sit in the front and closed the door. He paused a moment to collect himself and walked around the back. Sliding into the driver’s side he asked her what kind of music she liked to listen to. He grinned at her answer and blared what he knew was her favorite song.

He stole glances at her on the drive and sang along with her, his voice cracking at the lyrics. Memories rushed through his mind as the car rushed down the street. They’d had a good life, he knew, and she would be taken care of. She would still be in his life. He wasn’t sure how much of him would be left in hers. But if she still thought of him as a teen taking her out for ice cream and stealing kisses at the river then he was glad. That time wasn’t for nothing.