Nano chapter 7 and 8

 Chapter seven

Retirement

     Alice Wallis was at her desk writing Christmas cards to her friends and family. Six fifteen in the evening, her husband, Leonard napping in the living room. She was on the H section of her address book, and even though she had already filled one out to Roger Hollins and family, she thought again about his loss this year. Alice worked with Mary Hollins for sixteen years. They became fast friends, even through the years when Alice was her immediate supervisor. This was at least twenty five years earlier, and Alice thought back to how different they were in those days, Mary barely in her thirties then and Alice a vibrant forty five years of age. Life was rarely fair, and Alice knew never to feel like it was unfair. That was just a selfish attitude by those who demanded their own way, from their jobs and their families, and especially from those around them in society. Asking God 'why me' was akin to asking a drunk why they drank. It was a pointless questions.

     Still, there were moments in life when you just had to imagine that things occurred simply because somebody out there was a dick. She and her husband, Leonard, married now for fifty seven wonderful years in a row, had been battling cancer off and on for the past sixteen or seventeen of those years. And not to sound ungrateful that her husband was here, in the living room snoring, and her best friend was gone, but it just wasn't as natural as the order of the world pretended to be. Then again, Alice Wallis figured, cancer is not really a natural part of the world, even if it were so prevalent in society. That was the thought that was still with her at dinner later that evening, when she and her husband were sitting at the table eating their broccoli and pork chops, and the topic,s till burning in her head, came up in conversation.

     “It's just not suppose to be a part of our world, Lenny. You know what I mean?

     “I don't know. Seems like it's a very major part of the world, doesn't it?”

     "Yeah, but why? I mean, why would it even exist. Why is it here?”

     “You're getting into one of your moods again, Alice.”

     “Don't tell me what kind of mood I am in or not, Leonard.”

     “I know better don't I?” Her husband smiled at her, in a kind and gentle way.

     “Yes you do.” replied his wife. And it wasn't as if she were feigning anger at him with her gritted teeth response, because she was slightly annoyed at him. But he was correct and she had no reason to go off on an angry tangent. So she mellowed out and formed her thoughts.

     “As I was saying,” she continued, “Cancer just isn't natural. I know some of it is caused by these unnatural toxins, pollution, radiation, greenhouse gases. But some of it just shows up. Where did breast cancer come from? Why is it so dangerous? Why does it keep showing up?” Alice was on the verge of tears now, and her husband stood up from his seat at the table to come around and hug his wife.

     “I'm sorry. You're right. I am in one of those moods aren't I?”

     “Of course you are. But that's okay. You're supposed to have feelings.”

     “But what are the answers? I mean, what is the reason for cancer?”

     “You know I can't answer that, my love. It's just one of god's things.”

     “That's just it, Lenny. It isn't one of god's things. It can't be.”

     “Careful, Ally. We start thinking we know more than He does-” Leonard paused just long enough for Alice to interrupt.

     “It is not natural, Leonard. That's the whole point of what I am saying. I mean, if we have this forgiving father now and no more need for plagues, then why is there a plague like this still around? Why is god taking us away with this disease?”

     “Honey, you are asking questions no person can answer.”

     “Not until the afterlife, I know. Seems a convenient cop out doesn't it?”

     The quiet between them grew from a moment into a minute into a few minutes of silence. An observer would think they were mad at each other, quietly fighting each other inside their own heads. An observer who knew what it was like to live with somebody for that length of time knew better. That observer would see the couple silently expressing their love toward each other. It could have been either of those ways between Leonard and his wife of almost six decades, and always more of the latter than the former. In this case, it was much less of avoiding an argument with his wife. It was even only a miniscule thought that she was disturbing him with her thoughts, her near blasphemy. It was simply that he loved his wife, his partner through richer and poorer, and he let her come around to wherever she needed to be, to feel.

     “It is just incredibly sad, isn't it?” Alice Wallis stated after these few minutes of quiet reflection.

     “Of course it is. Especially when you keep thinking her instead of me.”

     “what do you mean?”

     “I mean, you can't help but think that. It could be me gone, not her. That you are more lucky than Roger is, who is alone now.”

     “I don't know how you always seem to know what I am thinking.”

     “That comes with the territory, love.”

     “Yeah I guess.” Alice Wallis sighed deeply, a sigh that released all of her tension. “I am going to call him and see how he is doing.”

     “Go ahead. I can clean up the dishes.”

     “well, at least there's that.” She winked at her husband, kissed him and went out to the patio with her cell phone.

Chapter eight

Cut Away

     About an hour later, Roger Hollins and Alice Wallis said goodnight and promised to check in again in a week or so. Roger was just finishing one last cigarette for the evening, noting to himself again that Alice never remembered the time difference between California and Florida. He was out on the back patio in a crisp forty five degree Florida winter chill. He knew that people came down here to Florida for the warm weathers. He grew up with those people in New England. As a boy he had never visited the south but his grandparents had come down yearly as well as a few of his aunts and uncles. But Roger Hollins had spent too many of his adult years, twenty four to be exact, in sunny southern California, to find forty five degree evenings just a tad chilly for his blood. Californian's retired to Arizona, or Las Vegas. They did not travel across country to Florida to retire. Yet here he was. And to top it off he was alone now. Of course there was family here, his brother spent the winters here, and his children were only five or six hours away most times. And he had made several close friends here in Florida the past seven years. So he could not say he was alone. But that was exactly what he told himself, and he felt that he earned that right, having spent just less than fifty years with his wife and a few months without her. Roger was alone now and there was not much else he could do about it but accept it. Alice was smart enough to know what he was feeling. She sympathized even if she could not directly relate. Alice Wallis had not called him to remind him that he was alone; that was simply a side effect of the conversation.

     He love Leonard and Alice Wallis like they were family. He remembered how scared she was when her husband was diagnosed with cancer, and Mary and he were by their side during the first round of chemo and the second. And when it returned ten years later they were on a plane almost immediately. He tried to imagine the relationship that his wife had with Alice Wallis, her former employer, between himself and one of his bosses, and he could not imagine it. He had nothing against his various supervisors over the years. It was simply a matter of separating his work life and his personal life. He knew people who felt differently, he even married one of them it seemed, but he did not picture himself getting so close to one of his coworkers, let alone a boss. Being friends with his wife's boss, however, was completely fine by him, and he thought back to when they first started hanging out and when his wife first took that job. This of course led him to one more cigarette out in the breeze and he figured he would either dire of exposure or lung cancer soon enough.

     Images seemed to continually flash through Jessica's head. These images were memories of Florida, of visits to her parents' house in between trips abroad.

     “I just can't handle living on a golf course Roger.” her mom, complaining again about the location of their new house.

     “Ma, you can't build another house right now. There's a recession.”

     “I'm tired of people telling me what I can and can not do.”

     “You won't sell this. That's all I mean, Ma.”

     “This is Florida. Things will sell.”

     That was all, what, six years ago? Seven or eight, Jessica figured. It was always surprising to her that she did not feel like she's aged since then, since ever. Was it her whole generation who felt perpetually young, or just her? She would have to ask around about it some day.

     “Tulip died, Jessica. I am so sorry.” Another flash, this time of a phone call, Jessica in Amsterdam, filming a fashion show this time, with news of her dad's King Charles Spaniel, Tulip, being put to sleep. “Your dad is just beside himself.”

     Another flash, of the house in Riverside. “you have a red wall in your kitchen?” This was her asking her mom. Mom and dad had just moved into this house, a smaller two bedroom out in the hills of Southern California.

     “Yeah, it's pretty cool isn't it?” mom acting like a teenager, her daughter was thinking.

     “You've never wanted color in any of your houses before.”

     “Well, people change. You know how that goes.”

     Flash of images again inside Jessica's brain. Packing up that house to move east. Packing up her own house to move west. Then abroad. Visiting her mom and dad in a trailer park in Florida.

     “You know, I think you guys were happiest there, in the trailer park.” This was a flash from a few years later, house number one in Florida, a memory of a memory which was interesting to Jessica. In the real world Jessica was in bed, under the covers, waking up slowly, letting these images flash through her thoughts, not so much different from a dream but in a way something much more tangible.

     “I just don't like being right on the golf course, that's all.”

     “I would love it, no back yard neighbors.”

     “Yeah well, you aren't living here, are you?”

     “I think you're only happy when you're upset about something.”

     “You really think that about me, your own mother?”

     “Well, it's a trait you passed down to me, that's all.”

     Another flash, this time later in Florida, her dad speaking to her this time. “what do you mean you blocked out your childhood?”

     “Well, she only remembers the bad things that happened anyway.”

     “Are you this way on purpose, Jessie? Is this the way we raised you to be?”

     “Dad, she's just in one of her moods. You know how it goes.”

     “My name is not she.”

     Jessica bothered herself to roll out of bed this time. She was through with the flash backs, the lucid dreaming. She pondered a moment to explore her real memories and match them up to the events running through her mind the past half hour or so. They seemed on point to her, and this actually bothered her. Not every memory was her mom and herself arguing, at least disagreeing on things. But in some moments it certainly felt that way. Was that really all there was to it, or was she in some sort of funk right now and focusing on those negative aspects. Jessica walked into the bathroom to freshen up, as it were, and came out and finally looked at the bedside clock. Two o'clock in the morning, in Wales just about parallel to the International Date Line. She subtracted in her head and figured it was only about nine thirty at night near the Eastern portion of the States. She called her father.

     “I miss her dad.” She did not have to announce herself to him, or the reason for the call. She was instead able to state that simply and firmly and quietly cry while he comforted her from four thousand miles away.

     “I do to baby girl.”

     After a few moments Jessica began to explain why she was calling. She described the dreaming state to her father and her conclusions.

     “So I don't know, am I supposed to be learning something from all this?”

     “You think that your mom is trying to tell you something, in other words?”

     “Maybe. I think it's more that I am wondering what exactly she taught me. What is my legacy, in other words.”

     “You seem to be contemplating some big questions there in the middle of the night, son't you think?”

     “Well, I might still be on states time, you know? Been here only a week so far. My body is still adapting.”

     “And that has nothing to do with having bad dreams?”

     “It's just that, they weren't really dreams, like I said. I mean, I know I have to call them that but it was different than dreaming. I was awake, and I was,”

     “Was what?” He asked, after a moment's pause.

     “I don't know. I was reliving those moments, if that makes sense. If that were something possible, that's what I feel like I was doing this morning.”

     They were soundless for a full minute on the telephone.

     “Listen, dad. I know you don't understand. I don't understand.”

     “It's just that, well, I don't want you to think I don't believe. Because I do. You know that. I believe in a god and all that and maybe your mom is in heaven talking to you. Maybe you miss her, and your mind is just making up reasons to be mad that she is gone.”

     “Well, if you are going to put it so logically like that I guess you might be right.”

     “Don't get sarcastic with me, Jessie.”

     “No. I mean, I didn't mean that. It does make sense that way. I wasn't trying to make fun.”

     A few more minutes of banter followed, and father and daughter were able to hang up from each other, one to retire for the evening and the other to awaken and face the day.