Undying Love

Shelley's footsteps announced her arrival. She usually sounded like she was in a bit of a hurry, her spike heels tap-tap-tapping on any hard surface, like the shiny linoleum she traveled over now. You'd almost always hear her before seeing her. So of course Audrey knew, without even having to turn to look, that her daughter had just arrived.

“Hi Mom!” Shelley warbled as she sat down hurriedly in the chair closest to her mom. The legs squeaked as the momentum hit and the chair slid a bit closer to the bed.

“How are you doing today? I brought a book for you and Dad to read together. It’s called The Agatha Christie Collection, and I thought you’d both like it. You two have has always loved murder mysteries.” Placing it next to the copy of A Dog’s Purpose that her brother Brandon had gifted a few months back, Shelley kept up her cheerful monologue, skimming from topic to topic, barely stopping for a breath. It was Tuesday, the day she always visited on her way home from work. She was a dutiful daughter. And a talkative one; some might call her a gossip.

“So, you should know that Brandon is struggling right now. I just found out that he missed his last two house payments, AND Sheila has moved out of the house. Austin claims he saw her high-school sweetheart, Anthony, help her move out while Brandon was at work.” Shelley always seemed to feel better after she vented to her, thought Audrey. Perhaps Shelley wasn’t immune to feeling a certain gratification about the situation, as if it offered proof that she was the responsible one in the family, not still a little girl overshadowed by her big brother. 

“Bye, Mom! Love you forever!” Shelley said as she delivered her farewell hug. Her footsteps sounded a little lighter as she tap-tapped out the door, down the long hall, and out the door.

Her mother, on the other hand, felt a little heavier after receiving this kind of family intel. She wanted so much to help her family, but what could she do, really, but listen? It’s not as if she had income rolling in so she could bail anyone out financially. It’s not like she could snap her fingers and fix her daughter-in-law Sheila’s attitude or her son Brandon’s desperation. It was all just simply out of her hands. At least right now. 

Later that night, when all was still again and she was a hostage of her own thoughts, she looked forward to the comfort of her dreams, when things did sometimes get fixed. Even her own problems.  

She did have nightmares, too, sometimes, though. She’d be on the street at night walking her golden retriever, Sheridan, and see headlights coming right at her, bright lights from which there was no escape. She always woke up, drenched in sweat, before it hit. Thank goodness; she’d heard that if you dream you die, you die. And she didn’t want to die. Not just yet. Not when, despite her family’s struggles, every day seemed just a little better, a little bit brighter, somehow, than the last. At least that she could remember of late. It was as though a cloud was parting and she could see a glimpse of blue sky where once was only gray.

It was the basketball-shoes-on-gym-floor squeak that heralded Brandon’s arrival and reminded Audrey of all the high-school basketball games she watched when he was young. He had been top scorer his junior and senior years, although in the throes of premature middle-aged responsibilities and disappointments, he’d lost the jaunty arrogance from his walk. When Shelley was feeling spiteful (she’d always been a little jealous of Brandon), she called him Flick, after the Flick in John Updike’s “Ex-Basketball Player.”  Audrey understood and discouraged the dig, but Brandon, never a scholar, had no idea why Shelley had chosen that nickname. He didn’t think to ask. Aah, family dynamics. What could Audrey do? She just didn’t have it in her anymore. But she, the matriarch, loved them all so very much -- she lived for them.

Brandon didn’t sit; he stood, never staying long, his voice seeming to Audrey to come almost from the ceiling. He, of course, gave a very different version from Shelley’s of the events of his own life and shared a great concern for Shelley’s well-being. Apparently she’d been frequenting bars even on weeknights. She was no longer dating steady and reliable Bernie, he informed his mother. Although Audrey felt distressed to hear that, she so loved to hear Brandon’s voice. His visits were a pleasant distraction, a way to pass the time. He reminded her of his father.

Stanley. Oooh, Stanley with the soothing voice. The best times were when he was around, when he was not on a business trip or playing golf or simply just at work. He did work long hours, but always took the time to spend quality time with his wife. He was a thoughtful man. Often the talk revolved around what was in the paper that day, or what was on NPR news. He liked to leave it on most of the day, even when he left, and that was more than fine with Audrey. She loved the news stories and how they always gave her something to think about. She didn’t always agree with Stanley’s take on things, but she had learned to accept and appreciate his opinions -- even value them. Who would’ve predicted such improved understanding and acceptance at this late stage of their marriage? Such a peaceful, easy feeling between them?

Things fell into a reliable routine, and Audrey drifted passively through her days. She had learned to accept her lack of control, and to look forward to the times when those who loved her would direct the conversation, would take initiative. It was very different to change roles in this way, for busy Audrey to become a shell of the woman she once was. 

Her family took pains to continue to involve her in the goings-on. She loved visits, but it was so hard to have absolutely no control over the conversation. 

When Stanley wasn’t around, Shelley began to criticize her dad, and her tap-tap-taps on the linoleum began to sound indignant. She complained that he never called, that it was because of him that they never had family dinners anymore. Why were they never in the same room at the same time anymore? What had happened between them? Audrey worried.

Brandon seemed almost secretive. He never spoke about his dad any more; in fact he never spoke about Sheila. What had happened to wedding vows in this modern world? This generation lacked persistence and commitment, Audrey fretted. You have to be able to last through the hard times. Like that cliché, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

Sometimes Brandon would vent about Shelley’s decision-making, but mostly he just talked about safer topics like his rescue dog, a golden retriever like Sheridan. Audrey loved to imagine the golden at play, fetching, swimming, running; and she privately wondered why Brandon always left him at home instead of bringing him with. She would like to have a dog around once in a while. She remembered the good old days, when her own golden dog would keep her company, would understand how she felt even though not a word passed between them. The long walks they would take, both daytime and nighttime. How she missed him, how she longed for his steady comfort now. 

Yet, it was Brandon who told her. Told her how Dad was seeing someone, a woman at the office. How could this be? Audrey didn’t believe it. Wasn’t Stanley always loyal and attentive? She struggled to respond. Brandon was forgiving, though; he said, “It’s been a year today, Mom. It’s been so long.” After Brandon left, she dozed, dreaming of the woman she once was somewhere back in time, the one with multiple suitors, although she only had eyes for Stanley. And she knew he loved her, unconditionally. He was faithful. This story of Brandon’s seemed far-fetched --  the kind of thing you’d have to see to believe. Why would he suggest such a thing? There must be a misunderstanding, an unfair assumption. Such is the world we live in.

Later she heard Stanley’s dress shoes lightly signal his quiet, patient approach, and she was reassured. Stanley sat on the edge of the bed, next to his wife of so many years; for better, for worse; and prayed out loud. “Lord,” he said, “please send me a sign.” 

Audrey knew it was time. She simply must take action.

She moved a finger. Or was she dreaming? She moved it again. She. Could. Move. She was coming back!

Stanley took her hand and placed it gently on his face. She could feel wet tears springing from his eyes.

“Audrey, oh Audrey,” he whispered. “I will always love you. As I promised… until death do us part.” 

He gently laid her hand back on the bed. She felt his weight shift, disturbing the bedding; her head slid off the pillow. 

“I know this is what you would have wanted.”

The room seemed to darken. She felt a light pressure on her face, and her breathing slowed. What was happening? 

She couldn’t move; she surrendered her quest for the measure of control she’d been seeking for as long as she could remember. Not just her body -- but her soul -- relaxed. Yet paradoxically she felt more power than she’d felt in months.

A dim passageway began to glow, a golden light in the blurry dark she’d become accustomed to. She felt a surge of strength. She was recovering! It was happening! Her dreams were coming true!

“Goodbye, My Love,” said Stanley as he left, letting the door swing shut behind him, sealing out the sound of his retreating footsteps.

A woman stood waiting in the brightly lit, cold linoleum hall of the hospital.

Audrey could see her.

And then she heard Sheridan’s joyful bark in the distance.

Time for a walk.