Love and Other Consolation Prizes(14)

Juju looked back at Ernest. “She’s kind of stubborn these days. I swear she ignores me just to irritate me.”

“Don’t…” Gracie said. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not even here.”

Ernest heard the lucidity in her voice.

“Well hello, Ma. I didn’t even know you were awake. Dad is here. Ernest, remember? He’s the boy you mentioned—the boy who was raffled off at the fair all those years ago. Remember the fair we talked about?” Juju spoke slowly and loudly, as though her mother were hard of hearing. “Here he is. Look, he’s all grown up now, just like you. And he came all the way over from Chinatown to see you today. I thought you might know some of the same people.” She leaned back and whispered to Ernest, “I’m expecting the full story when we’re done here.”

Gracie nodded pleasantly and stretched her slender arms into a threadbare robe that had been draped across the back of her chair. She said something about the chill as she slipped her feet into mismatched slippers. She blinked at him and then at Juju. Then she turned her attention to the view of Puget Sound, dotted with the V-wakes of pleasure boats, the misty green Olympic Mountains, and a tiny hummingbird that flitted about a bird feeder hanging from a soffit outside the living room window. She sniffled and seemed to tear up as she pointed a trembling finger at the bird, which zipped up and down, back and forth, like a bumblebee with a long red needle for a beak.

Ernest looked at his daughter and then past the bird, south toward the Century 21 Expo: the silhouette of the new Space Needle towering above the sweeping curve of the monorail, the pyramid-shaped roof of the new Washington State Coliseum, and the colonnades and vaulted arches of the United States Science Pavilion. He’d heard that the trees that were dug up in front of his house had been replanted there. That row of hardwood now lined one of the grand pavilions.

“Ma, Dad is here to talk to you. And chat about the fair,” Juju said.

Her mother blanched at the sound of Juju’s words.

“Oh,” Gracie said with surprise. “We shouldn’t talk about the affair.”

Juju laughed and shook her head. “No, Ma. Ernest is here to talk about the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Expo—the great big world’s fair, remember? He was there, just like you, so I thought you two might have a little visit, become reacquainted. Maybe you can share some of your stories about the old days. How’s that sound? He’d love to hear some of your memories, your tall tales. Maybe he can answer some questions—help you fill in the blanks, you know.”

Gracie had ignored him. But when Juju wasn’t watching, Ernest could have sworn he saw his wife wink and suppress a knowing smile.

Juju said to Ernest, “I’ll go make us some fresh tea—see if we have some cookies or something.” She switched on a shelf-top Radionette and tuned in to KRAB, where the local balladeer Ron Holden was crooning his hit single “Love You So.” The song had made headlines for cracking the Billboard top ten, but most local stations, like KJR, refused to play it.

“I like your taste in music,” Ernest said. He had a deep abiding weakness for love songs, ballads, and musicians of color.

“What can I say? I am my father’s daughter,” Juju said as she turned up the volume. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Just shout if you need me.”

Ernest smiled and pulled his chair up next to Gracie’s. She looked so thin. She kept her hair long, as she always had, and her beautiful cheekbones had hollowed a bit. Her eyes looked haggard, though not so unlike his. They’d both seen so much.

Where did you go, my dear sweet girl? After three years of trying, failing to reach his wife, and watching her become terrified, tearful, or practically catatonic at the attempt, Ernest had accepted their situation. But today he wasn’t merely going through the motions of a loving caretaker. Or a distant friend. Today he dared to hope.

Ernest cleared his throat and said, “Hello, Gracious.”

He held his breath as she reached over and held his hand with both of hers. He searched her eyes for a glimmer of recognition.

“It’s been a while. Do you remember me?” he asked as he longed for his wife of years ago, before the ringing in her ears, before the sudden headaches and dizziness, before the seizures that took her away.

Gracie nodded and drew a deep breath, sighing. “It’s been too long. No one has called me Gracious in…” She blinked, squinting at him, pursing her lips, and shaking her head as though he were a puzzle waiting to be put back together. “…in…forever.”

Ernest smiled and nodded even though he’d called her that just last week. But she hadn’t remembered him then and had told him to go away.

But today, she touched his cheek, felt his stubble. She traced the lines on his face and the bags beneath his weary eyes. In that moment, he ignored how the years had accumulated on Gracie, memories that had left their marks, and the scars, which had piled up like layers of sediment. He felt his own age, though, as his heart seemed like a clock that had come unwound, slowly ticking. And he longed for the years he’d lost and the lifetime that she’d forgotten.

“Ernest,” Gracie whispered, nodding. “Young.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and choked back a tidal surge of emotion.

“I’m here.” He held her soft warm hands, mottled with veins and spots, mileposts from a life richly lived. He dared to kiss them.