The Suitcase

The Suitcase

“Could you reach that suitcase?”  An old man pointing to the top shelf of his bedroom closet. The suitcase rested on top of boxes marked with labels; photos, mementoes, trips, money-with a ha-ha-written next to it.

“What do you need that old thing for. I thought you told me you were going to throw that away. What happened to the one I got you last Christmas?”  A prolonged silence took charge of the room, neither of them wanting to begin something they had been trying to avoid for over 30 years. “You going someplace?... You know the reason I’m here is to take you to your doctor’s appointment tomorrow. You do remember the appointment don’t you? I had such a difficult time getting you in, what with the increase in viruses and food contamination illnesses. It’s important you get things looked at as soon as possible. Most illness can be handled if diagnosed early. So, are you ready for tomorrow?”

He continued to stare at the black suitcase, the same suitcase he’d had when he left home for college. The same suitcase he took on their honeymoon to Quaker Town Pennsylvania. The suitcase he was taking with him when he left this time, for good. He didn’t respond to his son’s questions but stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed, her side of the bed; she always had to sleep facing the window. Why, she wouldn’t say, and he had only asked once, and when she didn’t answer, he never asked again. She had been like that; set in her ways, and he in his, and yet they allowed each other space so they weren’t bumping into each other every time one of them turned around.

“Your appointment is at 3 pm.”  

 “What appointment?”

“We are to see the specialist tomorrow at 3 in the afternoon. Don’t you remember? We were there a month ago, they took x-rays, and when they contacted me about the results, I made a follow-up appointment so they could go over the prognosis with us. I told you. That’s why I came, so you wouldn’t have to go alone.”

“Is that prognosis guy going to be there again? I didn’t like him very much. He seems like he wished he were someplace else. Do you think he wanted to be someplace else? I know I did.”

His son watched as his father ran his fingers through his sparce white hair in his habitual attempt to restrain the cowlick that seemed to grow from his head at the convergence of a vortex that seemed to be moving. He’d closed his eyes as he often did when confused; it reduced the size of his world to a more manageable one.

“No, he won’t be there. We are going to see Dr. Robbins. You like Dr. Robbins. He’s the one with the wire rimmed glasses and the head of curly white hair; Remember? You thought he looked like Santa Claus in the off season.”

“Do we have to go? ’ve got to pack. I’m going away for… for a… because… that’s why I wanted you to come; not to go see that prognosis guy." I might not be coming back.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. They have treatments today that are far superior to what you were subjected to last time. How many years ago was that?” His question went unanswered.

“I don’t see what difference it makes if I’m going away and probably won’t be coming back.”

“Alright, I’ll play. Where is it you are going, and why won’t you be coming back?”

The old man looked at his son and shook his head. “There’s a time and purpose for everything under the heavens. I’m sure you’ve heard that. Well, I’m going to see what that is all about. I’ve spent my entire life doing what I felt I had to do, not always what I wanted to do. I figure I’ve earned the right to go where I want and do what I want, just because it is what I want to do. Don’t you think that is fair?”

“Yes, I have heard that saying. I think it’s a testament verse, something from the bible, don’t know for sure. And yes, I think you should be able to do what you want to do when you want to do it, but within reason. The reason for going to see Dr. Robbins is to have him explain what he found on your x-rays and what he suggests we do if there is anything that needs to be done. It is better to find out early and deal with it, whatever it is, rather than pretend nothing is wrong and wait until it’s too late. You do see that, don’t you?”  

“I don’t see what difference it makes. Like I just said, I might not be coming back. There is a lot of purpose out there and I know I don’t have much time to explore it all. Why would I waste what time I have looking at pictures of something that might be or might not be. The purpose I’ve been trying to tell you about is the heavens. Not the make-believe place you are told you are going to go to when you leave here, but the heavens, the real heavens!

Do you realize, we know practically nothing about our own galaxy, let alone all the other galaxies they know are out there; something like 200 million, maybe more. That’s all they can see so far. 

Do you have any idea what a light year is? I know what it is supposed to be, what they tell us it is, but I can’t imagine moving at the speed of thought, can you? And stars? There are probably trillions of stars, and I don’t know a thing about one of them, except that by the time I see one, it might be already dead. So, you can see the urgency in me leaving as soon as possible. I’m sorry if I put you to any unnecessary trouble, but I thought I told you I was leaving and that you understood. It’s not that I don’t want to stay, it’s just that I feel it is more important to go, now, while I can, than to wait to be told I can’t.”

“How do you plan on getting to the other galaxies, stars, whatever? You aren’t thinking of walking are you? Unless you’ve learned somehow to walk at the speed of light, it would take you a million years to walk there, and I don’t think you’ve got that much exploring time left.”

“You can’t walk to another galaxy, but did you know that your mind travels at approximately the same speed as light; at least I believe it does. You must have heard of people who will themselves places? Do you remember Dorothy from the Wizard of Ozz, she found herself in a strange place, Ozz land I think, and she never left her bedroom. You must have had dreams that took you places you couldn’t believe you traveled to, and yet you did, and you didn’t. plan to do the “did” part, I’ll leave the “didn’t do part,” up to you. Did you know you worry too much for a young person? Life is too short to worry about everything, I should know. It’s probably my fault you are like you are. I was a compulsive worrier and look where it got me. 

I figure if Dorothy can get out of Kansas, and not leave her bedroom, I should be able to get to Saturn in a blink of an eye. I’ve always wanted to see the rings close up. The pictures are pretty and everything, but it’s not the same as being there. If I sound like I’m crazy, well, I just might be, but there is nothing I’ve found out that prevents a crazy person from fulfilling a dream. I’m not hurting anyone and not hurting myself, if that’s what you are worried about. I will have to leave sometime, as will you. So why not go where and when we want to go, instead of where they tell us to go. I’m tired of being told what to do and when to do it; what I can and cannot do. I’m going, and there is no one going to stop me…

Now, would you get my suitcase down from the shelf? I can’t reach it without a ladder and your mother forbid me to use a ladder for any reason. She was afraid I was going to kill myself. She was a worrier too, so I guess you got it from both sides. Maybe you should go see that prognosis guy and talk to him about your worrying problems. I can’t make it, so you might as well take my place so the appointment doesn’t get wasted. They get upset when you don’t make your appointments, I know, I’ve been practicing.”

“You are going to Saturn in your mind, and need to bring a suit case along? For what purpose? Souvenirs?...when are you planning on leaving?”

“If you’ll get my suitcase down from the shelf, I can pack without upsetting your mother, and I hoped to leave after I go to sleep tonight. That should be enough time for you to get my suitcase down.” 

“What about Dr. Robbins? Don’t you want to hear what he has to say about your x-rays?”

“I could be back by then… although I doubt it. I’ve waited my whole life to go to Saturn and I don’t think I should rush back just to see Dr. Robbins. If he’s any kind of doctor, he will understand.”

The old man shifted his position on the bed but kept his eyes focused on the suitcase. It was still there, and its means of leaving the shelf was standing across from him. He was sorry he hadn’t asked him to get the suitcase down for him earlier, he could have been gone by now.

“Isn’t he the doctor, that the last time we went to the hospital he was telling us about planning a trip to Brazil, rainforests, that sort of thing? See, he gets it. I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. Even though I’m not going to Brazil, I’m sure he’ll see that Brazil and Saturn aren’t really all that different from one another when you think about it. Say hi to him for me; he looked lonely last time, like his cat died or something.

You get the case down, I’m going to the spare bedroom and lie down, rest up for the trip, you know.”

The old man shuffled across the rug and out into the hall. The sun was setting, a light breeze caused leafy shadows to dance on the hall floor; he smiled at the familiar sight. He made his way to the next room, found the bed, checked the sky for possibilities, and lay down. 

His son, against his better judgement, pulled the suitcase from its resting place and laid it on the bed. He opened it; the smell of mildew enveloped him. He began to cough; all he could do was shake his head and laugh… Saturn?

He went down the hall toward the spare room, his old room, to see if his father needed anything. His father was right, he did worry about things that he couldn’t change and then attempt to change things he knew he couldn’t change but felt the need to try anyway. He was like his father in that respect. But Saturn?

He walked through the unseen leaf shadows and into his old bedroom. His father lay on his back, his face toward the window, his eyes closed. He looked at his prone figure for a few minutes and then realized he appeared to not be breathing. His chest was not moving, and his skin had taken on a shallow distilled look, like when he’d get dressed up for Halloween and put chalk powder on his face and become himself. 

He went to the bed and placed his hand near his father’s mouth; he felt nothing, not the slightest movement of air. He placed his hand on his father’s forehead, it felt cool to him, but then he was no doctor. He thought he should call someone; an ambulance, the doctor, the police, the…but realized, what would they do but interrupt his plans to visit the moons of Saturn. 

“Time to get up, get packed, and get ready for your trip to Saturn. Dad? Dad!"  He silently mouthed the words as he gently shook the old man. He’s left without his suitcase.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to his father and wondered what it would be like to see the rings of Saturn up close, not just pictures that were pretty and all … but not like being there.