We dropped in on Flo after Peter offered to bring his girls down for an after lunch visit. Once we’ve all found a place to sit, this time outside, around back, Peter and I always walk over to Concord Teacakes for coffee and brownies. We drink our coffee and we bring the brownies back and watch them sit uneaten in the white box.
At Teacakes I ask for a small cup of black while Peter engages the young blond girl – about Matt’s age – behind the counter. On the blackboard, above the counter and behind the teenager’s head, is a complete list of offerings.
Something like this:
Small Latte / Cappuccino $1.95
Med. Latte / Cappuccino $2.95
Lg. Latte / Cappuccino $3.95
And on and on through regular coffees, cakes, sandwiches, etc. .
Peter says loudly to the air, “What do I usually get?â€
I say to myself, you always ask for a medium latte cappuccino and the befuddled counter girl always asks, “Latte or cappuccino?â€
Peter scans the board and says, “There it is, I’d like a medium latte cappuccino.â€
Blondie asks, “Which do you want. Latte or cappuccino?â€
Peter looks back at the board and repeats himself. “Latte cappuccino,†but then, as always, he catches himself.
“Which one has foam?†he asks.
“Cappuccino.â€
“That’s what I’ll have, and one of every brownie.â€
On the way back to Concord Park, as we’re crossing the railroad tracks, Peter asks, “How are you doing?†As in, I’m sorry your mom’s dead, can you get out of bed in the morning?
Matthew still claims I never answer a question, and this time I try to be direct. “I’m doing all right. What was it like for you?†I’m asking about his mother, although I could be asking about his father or Patti.
“That’s easy. Everything they tell you is a lie. It never gets better. I miss Jo like she died yesterday. There are questions I should have asked. There are things I should have done. I wish she was here for the girls.
“You’re a real source of comfort.†I don’t really mean it. I mean I do. What I don’t mean is what’s implied in my response. For me it’s comforting to hear honest answers. Like a turkey leg. I may not like it, but it gives me something to chew on. Peter hears what’s implied and blushes.
“Hey, someone has to give you the other side. . I was watching TV the other day and I saw this advertisement for ending depression in a single day.â€
“With a forty-five?†I mutter, waiting for him to laugh, but he didn’t quite hear me.
“In forty-five days? No a single day.â€
“No, with a .45,†I said. “Otherwise it’s a scam.â€
adam
The pair ‘a yas do bring to mind turkey legs, but with a whole bird attached … ! Latte capuccinos and 0.45 caliber depression medicine …
Blessedly short on experience, I’m not much help with dealing with death, but I’ll take the leftover brownies …
Chris
Perhaps it doesn’t get better, but it will feel different. Less intense. Brownies are a fine if temporary remedy. The .45 would of course be a permanent remedy.
rakkity
The only “cure” for depression is to get so involved in many new things that your forebrain loses touch with your hindbrain. When my mother died in 1970, things started happening so fast in my life I had no time to grieve. My job in Colorado came to an end as I graduated with a PhD, met my (first) fiancee, went to Alaska, visited the east coast, moved out to California, got a job in Australia, moved there, got a house, got married. All in the space of 4 months.
Jennifer
Rakkity, it sounds like you think that grieving delayed is grieving denied. But reading your story (with no consideration of who you really are) it sounds rather like grieving delayed is denial. I mean, that’s just too damn much to do in 4 months, and the failure of the marriage (again, an assumption with no information) seems like proof.
Michael, of course you’re never over it. In some ways it gets worse — at first, you KNOW what she would have said, but then your life branches in unexpected ways and you want to (but don’t) know what she thinks (would think?) Or you just want her to be proud of you or your family. But you do get much less raw. Do take the opportunities that come your way to sob deeply.
michael
Diane and I trucked out to Circuit City to buy a replacement for my dead keyboard, and as I was driving I blathered on about how no one understood this little ditty. First, I said, I thought it was funny, not just the part about Peter’s repetitive coffee dialogue, but also the depression cure. Isn’t this typical Michael humor? I’m not anymore depressed than usual, and I’m not actively looking for a hand gun, but if you knew Peter you’d know that his active gray matter generates or gets enamored of a hare-brained scheme about once every five minutes. This one, a twenty-four hour cure for depression, I wanted to extinguish as quickly as possible. Would anyone not agree that the only instant cure is a slug behind the right ear?
Secondly, I was ( I thought) demonstrating my inability – still – to answer questions. I gave a short reply, but turned his question right around. Once Peter began talking about his mother, I gave mine up. I don’t know how it’ll be for me. I’m sure I’ll miss her, as I do now, but I wasn’t asking for guidance, I really was asking about Peter.
Now, I have to admit, no matter what argument or posture I took, Diane kept shouting, “Go back and read it yourself. You’ll see why people rreacted as they did.†I yelled back, “I guarantee you that Travis laughed when he read it.” This could be like the decaf thing where it took me years to realize that switching her real coffee for jolt-free was a bad thing to do. Diane insists, as Adam indicated, that a better ending would have not included the last sentence. I agree, and had I “seen†it, I’d a ended it there too.
Here’s the other thing. Carrying on the pick-on-Peter theme, I wanted to add another couple of paragraphs to the story, but I fell in love with the .45. Had I continued I’d of written about coming back with that box of brownies and having Peter take a look and then say, “How did that mint flavored brownie get in there?†“Well,†I said, “You did say one of each.â€
And then Kate wanted to talk about how when she and her friends get together they list the one hundred ways that her father has embarrassed her. And, she said, “My friends come up with more ways than I do.†Her favorite is Peter jumping out from behind a tree with a chainsaw and a goalie mask…or something like that. She laughs when she talks about it, but her dad laughs louder. Which is why I could write any of this. He enjoys being made sport of – at least by his girls.
It seems to me that only Chris jumped on the humor train, but none of this means I didn’t appreciate the stories/advice that followed. As a side note to Jennifer, I’m guessing there was more to the end of rak’s first marriage than what you imply. As a side note to rakkity, Diane tells me she remembers, now that you brought it up, that you were married before you met us. I don’t have any recollection of that at all. Bear in mind that back in those hippy days we were close friends with neighbors, Andy and Sue, for a year, before he realized they were married.
Btw, I bought a Microsoft Ergonomic 4000 and I love it. Fairly cheap and the best keyboard I’ve ever had. The keys are soft, the palm rest is cushioned, the function keys are plentiful and it has the spread/split design that Travis turned me onto about nine years ago.
rakkity
Jennifer, yes, it may seem that it was grieving delayed, but it wasn’t delayed. It was just intermingled with a thousand other experiences with my girlfriend and my father (who went with us to Alaska). As for the timing of most of the things of that year, they were dictated mainly by circumstance and fate. But through it all, my mother was always in my thoughts.
Somewhere I read a magazine article which listed all the most stressful experiences: death of someone close to you, changing jobs, moving to a new location, getting married or divorced, giving birth, leaving friends, retiring,… Sounds a lot like life.
rakkity
Ergonomic 4000? Michael, I don’t see how you handle that split, curved keyboard. Since I use 4 different computers, all of them different OS’s, I can barely get my finger bones around a straight, non-ergonomic keyboard.
More function keys? Overkill! I can’t even remember what the usual function keys do on Fedora, OS-X, Mandrake, and XP.
Jennifer
Yeah, I laughed, but you said “For me it’s comforting to hear honest answers. Like a turkey leg. I may not like it, but it gives me something to chew on.” So I thought I’d try … although I originally censored the first (honest) thought I had about this part: “Matthew still claims I never answer a question, and this time I try to be direct. “I’m doing all right. What was it like for you?— which was that you were too stupid to realize that you weren’t answering the question.
michael
My ideal key board would have separate left and right sections so that I’d be typing with my hands at shoulder width or more. Like this but with a lobotomy.
Most of the time I am too stupid to realize how evasive I am, but not then.
What are you doing with all your free summer time?