The Oak King

June's alzheimers has gotten bad, but she is mostly joyful nonetheless. There is somthing she always talks about, but I'm not sure what it means. She tells me about an old king with a three pronged crown atop his head. "Im sure he still has the scars we gave him that day," she always says. She tells me that as a child she would sit by the window in the afternoon sun for hours staring at this royal giant, the king of green, and Imagine him calling out decrees in his booming voice. When it would storm, she would pretend that there was a royal ball and his whole kingdom would shake and dance in the rain. It sounds like nonsense to me. It probably is.

Now she sits by the window at the hospice center staring at the trees beyond the fence with a small smile spread across her thin lips. Her curly white hair is cut bluntly, stopping abruptly at her chin. Somehow she looks both ninety and twenty at the same time. On the rare occasion that she brings herself to look away from the window, Its easy to see that she was once extraordinarily beautiful. Her peircing blue eyes are soft and kind with a hint of humor just beneath the surface as if she is always on the verge of laughing, but if she is in on some kind of joke, she has never shared it with me. I bring her lunch from the kitchen, Unseasoned chicken, cooked baby carrots, and jello.

"Hello June, how are you doing today?" I ask cheerfully.

She doesn't answer me. Its like this somtimes, like she disappears into her own mind. I leave the tray on her bedside table and go tend to my next patient.

"Well hello there darling," Henry says with a giant grin as soon as I peek around the door.

"Hi, Henry how are you today, hon?"

"Im just tickled pink I get to see your beautiful smile one more day, Anna."

I like Henry, he's always been a sweetheart. He is not only my favorite patient, but one of the more lucid ones we have here. I place his lunch in front of him and he wrinkles his nose.

"I don't feel much like eating to be honest, couldnt we go for a spin around the grounds instead?" He asks flicking the wheels on his wheelchair.

"You should eat, Henry."

"Oh come on, you wouldn't deny a dying old man's wishes would you?"

"Okay," I say relenting with a small smile "a quick walk, but when we come back I want you to eat, please."

The sidewalk outside loops around the entire building and ends by a white fence. Henry insists we stop by the fence. He rolls his wheelchair until his wheels touch the chipped wood and places his hand on a tree. I cant help but stare at Henry face, he is quiet and focused, no trace of a smile. I've never seen him like this before. It is only when I pull my eyes away from his face that I finally see what he is doing. On the tree is a small jagged carving H + J. He traces the lines with his finger. It is only when I look back at his face that I see the tears swimming in his eyes, but he is smiling again.

"This was our tree, but I would say it belonged more to her than me. I can still picture her the way she was when I carved this. She had the bluest eyes I've ever seen and that blonde hair drove me wild. She wore those overalls," he chuckled and shook his head, "the ones that always managed to have a new paint stain every time she wore them"

"She sounds beautiful," I say, but Henry doesn't seem to hear me. He looks up at the top of the tree.

"She always said this tree was somthing special, royalty even. She called him the oak king. I still wonder where she ended up. I hope she lived well."

His eyes are still swimming, but he finally looks at me and tells me he is ready to go back. His normal smile is back on his face and I am relived to see it.

The sun is sinking fast by the time I head to my car for the night. I feel completely drained emotionally and physically. At home I start the shower and turn the water on as hot as I can stand it. I can't stop thinking about Henry, somthing about the way he was today was so out of the ordinary. I feel like what he said was important, but I can't quite put my finger on it. The weirdness of today and somthing about what he said tugged at my attention right up until the moment that I crawled into bed. I was so exaughsted that I fell asleep quickly. I slept fitfully and dreamt about giant kings and trees shaking in a storm. The last image I saw before waking up was Henry's finger tracing the carved J on the tree.

I wake up in a panic with one name repeating in my head like a drum beat against my swimming skull. JUNE. Sweat sticks to my forehead as I let this realization slowly sink in. I get ready and head to work early, eager to tell Henry that I know where his mystery girl is and more importantly that she is closer than he thinks. Of course he didn't know, it makes perfect sense because she never leaves her room. She just stares outside her window all day at that tree, the oak king.

Cathy sits at the front desk and I smile excitedly as I say hello. I can't wait to go see Henry.

She doesn't return my smile.

"Wait Anna.. before you go anywhere there is somthing you should know. I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but Henry passed away last night," she said solemnly.

What.. no that's.. no but he.." My stomach sunk.

"He didn't suffer," she quickly added. "He just kinda slipped away in his sleep. I'm sorry Anna, I know how much you liked him."

"Its alright. Thank you, Cathy," I said as I walked away feeling utterly deflated.

The rest of the morning went by quickly and I was only partially present for it. My muscle memory took over as I went through the motions of an average work day, until lunch time and I realized I wouldn't be bringing Henry a tray anymore. Fresh tears sprung into my eyes and my throat burned from the effort to keep them at bay.

June sat at her window as I brought her lunch, a dry turkey sandwhich, an orange, and a small cup of milk. I place it at her table.

"Hello June, how are you doing today?" I ask. She says nothing until I reach the door and then softly, almost to herself she says, 

"Henry said goodbye to our king yesterday."

"What did you say?" I ask turning around quickly on my heels. My wide eyes searching the profile of her face for any clue that it is possible that she not only recognized him from across the courtyard, but remembered him.

I stand there letting her words sink in.

After a while I whisper, "Your oak king still has the scars you gave him that day, June."

She said nothing else but a small smile spread on her thin lips.