Eighty and Out (22 page)

I had offered to babysit Lisa’s daughter, Pam, because Lisa had been putting in overtime at work for the end of the year. I kept my eye on Pam as I took my time setting up the Christmas tree. At two and a half years old, she was a handful, but a joyous one.

Some claimed the world would end in 2000. And while Lisa worked hard programming to help save it, others stocked up on canned goods and supplies. I, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If the world ended, it ended. If it went on, it went on.

My rheumatoid arthritis had gotten worse, even with the new drugs, and I had given more thought to the pact Jeannie and I made when we were kids. My opinion on it had changed through the years, and for a while, I had thought it was a silly idea, that we had been naïve. Now, I thought we were geniuses and watched the right to die debate with great interest.

I tucked Pam in for her nap and gave her a kiss on the cheek, setting up the village underneath the tree, thinking of my own escape plan. I had botched the attempt when Jim had left but was grateful because it wasn’t my time. That was me snapping, unable to take any more loss.

Now, I was sensible. I had lived life, enjoyed it to the best of my ability, and when I turned eighty, I’d end it with dignity as planned. And I’d do it correctly this time. I’d take a whole bottle of painkillers.

I finished decorating the tree and stood, satisfied with how it had turned out. The reality was I probably wouldn’t have to do it, because studies showed people with RA died younger than people without. The article I had recently read said a decade younger.

The good news was it was my decision. I had control over my own life, no matter what the law said.

I went to the kitchen and made lunch, before waking Pam and giving her half of a sandwich with milk. We played with her doll, and then I reached for a brush to fix her hair.

“You want me to braid it?” I asked her.

Pam nodded and turned forward, facing the mirror. I brushed the knots from her hair and began braiding. I stole glances in the mirror as I worked and thought of Jeannie, remembering how I did the same thing to her in the same room, all those years ago.

When I was done, Pam smiled. “Pretty,” she said, the word sending my heart soaring.

The doorbell rang. It was Lisa.

“Thanks for watching her, Aunt Lou. We’ve just been so busy. It’s like I can’t type fast enough.” She looked overwhelmed.

“This Y2K thing is scary, huh?”

“Very scary. If the computers aren’t fixed, they’ll go back to zero when it hits 2000, and it will wreak havoc on every area of our lives.”

“Gosh. That does sound bad. Well, you know I enjoy having her, so bring her by anytime.”

The new year arrived, and the world didn’t end. In fact, it brought me a new neighbor.

“Here. Let me help with the snow,” Chuck said after walking over holding a shovel.

He and Rhonda had just gotten married.

“Thanks,” I smiled. “It’s nice having you next door now.”

Chuck smiled. “Agreed. And I’ve got to say, I’m really happy.”

*****

The next few years were some of the best years of my life. Having Chuck and Rhonda next door was fun. Bernice and I had taken a few more vacations. One to Mexico, one to Paris, and a road trip up the California coast. And I got to spend as much time as I wanted with Pam, who was the apple of my eye and favorite person to spoil. I babysat her when Lisa needed me to and watched her once a week in the evening so Lisa and Tim could have a date night.

We had all just had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner at my house, when Bernice called.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You sound upset.”

“I am,” she choked.

She began sobbing. “What’s the matter?” I asked, alarmed.

“There’s been an accident.”

My stomach dropped. I prayed she wasn’t going to say what I thought she was going to say.

Bernice kept crying.

“Tell me what happened,” I said. “
Is Alejandro okay?”

“Alejandro’s fine.”
She took a few deep breaths. “It’s Juan and his wife. They were hit by a drunk driver.”

My heart sank. I was afraid to hear more. “Is Juan okay?” I asked, sick with worry.

“He’s in the hospital. He’s badly bruised and has a few broken bones.”

“Oh, no...”

“It gets worse,” Bernice said, continuing to sob. “Juan’s wife didn’t make it.”

I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”

Bernice and I talked for the rest of the night. The next day, I sent flowers and a get well card to the hospital and had a floral arrangement delivered to the funeral home where the service was to be held. I had considered flying there for the funeral, but it didn’t feel right, and after hearing how badly Juan took the loss of his wife, I was glad I hadn’t gone.

Shortly afterward, Lisa and Tim went on a road trip, and I babysat Pam. We watched Disney movies all week, and Rhonda came over and baked chocolate chip cookies with us. Pam had been saying she wanted a puppy, so Chuck chased her throughout the backyard while barking, making Rhonda and I laugh, and Pam squeal with delight. We had so much fun, I was sad to see her go home at the end of the week.

Later in the year, Bernice and I were discussing our annual vacation.

“How about the Grand Canyon?” she suggested.

“Too much walking. I’m too antiquated to partake.”

Bernice laughed. “How about a spa then? We could go swimming. Get a facial and massages.”

“Now you’re speaking my language. Being pampered sounds nice.”

Bernice knew of a couple of locations, and we discussed which place was best.

“How about you decide this time? You seem to be more knowledgeable in that area.” Before hanging up, I asked, “How’s Juan?”

“He was really depressed for a while and had to go through some physical therapy, but he’s improved.”

“Good to hear. All he can really do is take it day by day.”

That’s how I had done it. Life just kept coming, and I didn’t have a choice.

A few days later, I was just walking out the door to meet Lisa and Tim for dinner, when the phone rang.

“Hello. May I speak to Louise?” a man said.

“This is Lou.”

“Lou, this is Alejandro.”

“Hey, Alejandro. What’s going on?” He never called me and I was pleasantly surprised.

“Unfortunately I have a bit of bad news.”

“What’s happened?”

Alejandro cleared his throat. “It’s Bernice. She had a heart attack.”

My legs gave out. I had to steady myself and sit down. “Is she all right?”

“Yes. She’s all right. The doctor said it was a minor one. She had some stents put in and is back at home resting.” Alejandro’s voice quavered, but he didn’t break down. “I was thinking if it’s possible, maybe you could come and visit soon. I know she would like to have you here.”

“Just say when,” I told him. “I’m available whenever you think it’s best.”

Alejandro and I talked for a few minutes more, and we decided I would come in a week or two. When we hung up I cried, unable to keep it together the way he had, then booked my flight.

I landed in Albuquerque and took a cab to Santa Fe. On the drive north, I stared out my window at the electric blue sky, noting it looked just as vibrant as it did all those years ago. The mountains looked different though. The many trees that dotted its face were covered with a light dusting of snow, making them seem more majestic.

The car stopped in front of Alejandro and Bernice’s place, and I got out. Alejandro came out to greet me and gave me a big hug.

“Thanks for coming, Lou. Bernice is so happy you’re here.”

“How’s she doing?” I asked as he carried my bags.

“Getting better. She’s moving around, but I want her to take it slow. You know how she is, she doesn’t know how to take it easy.”

I smiled. That was Bernice. She had always been that way.

“Well, I’ll make sure she does. I promise.”

Alejandro smiled and nodded. We stepped in the house and he put my things in a spare bedroom.

“Let me go check on her. I think she’s resting,” he said.

I scanned the room as I waited, glancing at the framed family photos on the wall, and then Alejandro came back.

“She’s up. Let me bring you to her.”

I followed him to their room, and I saw her, sitting in bed with pillows propped up behind her.

“Hey, Lou,” Bernice said in a small voice. “Thanks for coming.”

I went and sat on the bed with her. “You gave me a big scare.”

“Tell me about it,” she said. “I guess I have to learn to take it easy. Not do so much.”

“You’re a quick learner. You just have to set your mind to it.” I took her hand in mine. “This year’s vacation is here. Relaxing at home.”

We got caught up, and then she was tired, so I went for a walk outside. Alejandro had run to the grocery store, and I went to take a peek at the horses. Bernice had said they had a black one I might like, a particularly feisty one named Dash.

I found him and looked into his big brown eyes, then stood next to him, admiring his shiny coat.

“He’s the one you want to ride if you’re looking for adventure,” a man said.

I turned and saw Juan. He looked a little older, with a few wrinkles and salt and pepper gray hair, but his warm smile hadn’t changed.

I smiled back at him. “I was just looking at him. I wasn’t planning on going for a ride.”

“Why? Are you chicken?” Juan teased.

I grinned. “I’ve been through so much in my life, nothing scares me.”

Juan reached for a nearby saddle and put it on Dash. Then he turned to me and smiled. “Fearless and beautiful, huh?” He reached for my hand to help me up. “Hop on.”

Juan mounted Dash, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. The horse exited the barn slowly, but once it saw open land, began galloping. The rush was more intense than I had remembered it. And as the cool wind blew through my hair, I felt more alive than I had in a long time. The air was cool and crisp, invigorating my every sense as we raced through the foothills.

The rhythm of Dash’s breathing reminded me of life itself, and how so many people I knew and loved had died, some of them while still young. I tightened my grip around Juan’s waist and rested my cheek on his back.

I had no idea how many more days I had left. All I knew was I wanted every one of them to be like this.

A year later, Juan and I sat next to each other on the porch watching the sun rise. I glanced at my knuckles before reaching for my coffee. They really did seem less swollen since he had taken me to Chimayo at Christmastime.

“You just have to have faith,” he had said as he took my hands in his and smeared them with healing dirt. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer in Spanish. I kept mine open, marveling at the crutches that hung from the wall inside the church, thinking of the thousands of people who made pilgrimages on Good Friday each year, some walking from as far as Albuquerque.

Juan and I had stayed for the holiday service, and by the time we left, it had gotten dark. The church’s exterior had been decorated with rows of luminaria, and all the candles were lit, making the paper lanterns glow from within.

“Merry Christmas,” he had said, then gave me a kiss.

I looked over at Juan, his nose buried in the morning paper, and smiled. Then I thought of my last conversation with Jeannie. How she had asked me not to go through with the pact. How she had wanted me to live… for her.

I guess in the end Jeannie got her wish.

And so did I.

The End

Reaching for a stack of incoming mail, Lakeisha spotted a greeting card, obvious because of its telltale shape and colorful envelope. She opened it and the song “Happy Birthday” began playing. A brief smile formed on her face, and then she let out a sigh. She picked up her letter opener, then, with the skill of an artisan, pried the musical device out of the back of the card without ruining its cheerful appearance. After a quick scan of the card’s seams for drugs, Lakeisha put it back in its envelope and sealed it with a single piece of tape.

She felt awful defacing the gift, but it was procedure. Inmates with nothing but time on their hands were notorious for taking little things like batteries and wiring and turning them into something dangerous. Musical cards simply weren’t allowed.

Lakeisha had been in a hurry to make it to work, so she skipped breakfast. Luckily, Megan, the new prison psychologist, was just passing by with a box of donuts.

“Girl, how’d you know I’d be hungry?” Lakeisha asked.

“Because we’re on the same page. Pretty much need to be jacked up on sugar to make it through a day here, right?”

Lakeisha smiled in agreement at the tall brunette. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Megan popped the lid open so Lakeisha could make a selection. After pulling out a chocolate glazed, Lakeisha thanked her, then took an ample-sized bite of her donut. As she savored her meal she watched Megan walk away. She was a sweet kid and she kind of felt bad for her. Gossip was this was the only mental health position she was offered after her recent graduation.

“Guess we all gotta start somewhere,” she said out loud. Then she stared at her desk and had a sobering thought: the problem was sometimes you never left.

Before moving onto the next piece of mail Lakeisha removed a napkin from her top drawer and carefully wiped her hands. As she pulled the letter out a photograph spilled onto her desk, a glossy shot of an out of shape, heavily tattooed naked white man.

Lakeisha shook her head in disgust, then mumbled, “I didn’t need to see that while I was eating.”

Not only was it gross, X-rated photos weren’t allowed. Now she had to set it aside and fill out an “unauthorized” form. “Always something,” she muttered. After completing the form, Lakeisha proceeded to scan every fold and seam for drugs. Seeing none she put the letter back in its envelope and set it aside.

Prisoners knew she had the right to read everything they wrote. Sometimes folks on the outside were aware of this too, but Lakeisha didn’t have time to read all the mail. Her job was to process it and make sure it was free of contraband. With five hundred pieces going through her hands each day, and a thousand during the holidays, she didn’t have time to read every word.

But there was some correspondence Lakeisha never missed, a few prisoners whose stories she followed closely. As she learned the details of their lives, through the incoming and outgoing mail, it was like a soap opera. With each letter, she was always left wondering what would happen next.

Long ago Lakeisha had learned not to get close to any of the inmates, to keep her distance. She wasn’t allowed to show any form of favoritism. That was against the rules, so she kept her little mail soap operas a secret. The inmates’ stories were just a little indulgence to make her job more bearable. Plus, even though she knew they were criminals, some having committed truly despicable acts, they were still people. They had dreams once. And as she delivered the mail to them each day, she often wondered what those dreams looked like. How different were those dreams today?

After a short bathroom break Lakeisha moved onto the second pile of incoming mail. The return address on one envelope in particular caught her attention.

It was from Kristen’s husband Jeremy, the one who hadn’t written or visited in three long years, even though she wrote him every week without fail. Lakeisha always read Kristen’s correspondence. Anxious to see what he had to say, she ripped open the envelope.

Kristen,

I’ve been getting your letters. I haven’t written back because every time I try it always comes out the same way, with me cursing at you, so I give up and toss the pen and paper aside.

My sister suggested I just write what I feel, no matter what it is. That some communication is better than nothing. So, based on her advice, I’m going to say what I’ve been dying to say for a long time.

You’ve ruined my life Kristen, in every way a life can be ruined. And worse, you’ve hurt the kids. They’re suffering without their mother. All because for you it was never enough. You always had to have more. Even if it meant stealing to get it.

I’ve lost a lot of friends because of what happened, and some good clients will no longer work with me. Because of that and a bad economy and trying to survive on a single income, now the house is gone. I had to rent a small, two bedroom apartment, and am sleeping on an airbed in the family room that I blow up each night and deflate each morning. I do that so the kids can each have their own bedroom, so they won’t feel like anything in their lives changed.

But who am I kidding. Your goddamn mugshot was in the newspaper. People contacted me and asked, “Is that your wife?”

Ryan and Toby were bullied at school once the story spread too. They still struggle to sleep at night and their grades have suffered.

As if that weren’t enough, finding that shit on the computer after you were arrested, when I stood by your side after you got fired. That hurt the most. I hung in there through the drinking, then came to grips that you committed white collar crime. But I drew the line when I discovered you cheating behind my back.

Seriously, why the fuck do you continue to write me?

Jeremy

Lakeisha slowly refolded the letter and put it back in its envelope. She felt bad for Jeremy and the kids. Their side of the story was heartbreaking. But she also had a soft spot for Kristen, a model prisoner who seemed to be a genuinely nice human being.

Delivering the mail was usually something that made Lakeisha happy, as she knew it often was the only bright spot in a prisoner’s day. She dreaded today’s trip.

When quitting time came and Megan stopped by to say goodnight, Lakeisha was relieved. Maybe Kristen had taken the news better than expected. She assumed Megan would’ve had to make room in her schedule to handle an inmate’s nervous breakdown.

*****

Kristen was thrilled to receive a letter from Jeremy. Once she tore it open and read it though, her spirit deflated.

She had put him through a lot. He had stayed by her side, dealing with her constant drama. Like the night Toby and Ryan had noticed her stumbling out the front door holding car keys in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Fearful she might drive off and kill someone or hurt herself, Ryan ran out and tried to take the keys from her but she pushed him to the ground. When he landed he’d smacked his hand hard on a stone garden gnome and cried out in pain.

Toby saw blood on his older brother’s hand and grabbed the phone to call 911. He’d tried his best to speak to the operator but his mom was making such a ruckus in the background he could barely hear. Instead of helping her son up she was screaming expletives at the top of her lungs. Then she whipped the bottle of wine at the side of the house, staining the white stucco red and sending glass shards flying everywhere. The grand finale was when the cops showed up and she began mouthing off to them just as Jeremy pulled in from a long day at work.

Of course, she didn’t remember any of this at all. But her family sure did. And they never let her forget it.

They’d been keen to bring up the pasta incident too. Jeremy kept texting her asking where she was, saying that the kids were hungry and wanted to eat. He’d worked all day and made dinner but everyone was waiting for her to return before eating. When Kristen eventually showed up she was wasted. She stumbled into the house and to the kitchen table. After she sat down her face fell into her dinner plate.

With unusual calm Ryan rose and wiped spaghetti noodles and sauce off his mom’s cheeks as Jeremy held her limp body. Then they carried her off to bed and made sure to position her on her side in case she vomited in her sleep.

There had been many nights like that one. Most of which Kristen only learned about in embarrassed retrospect. When she first started stealing, she hadn’t been drinking much, but then the stress of keeping secrets and telling lies led her to drink more and more each day. That’s how she finally got caught. She took it too far, lost focus in her alcoholic haze, and her scheme unraveled.

Even then Jeremy had stayed. He said they’d figure out how to fix things. He thought they could find a way to raise money to pay back what she’d stolen. He’d been under the impression it was eighty thousand dollars, a large sum but not impossible to obtain. Maybe they could sell the house and use the equity. Maybe it didn’t have to go to court.

The truth came out after the arrest. Kristen had stolen almost half a million dollars from her employer, a family-run construction company, over the course of five years. She’d been their controller.

Jeremy and his sons had watched as the police arrested Kristen. The neighbors had seen it too, but turned their eyes away, not wanting to get involved. After Jeremy had come to grips with losing his wife of twenty years, and the betrayal of being lied to about the actual dollar amount taken, he found the emails.

“Where you been baby?” the man had written. “I miss you.”

Kristen responded, “I’m stuck here with you know who. Wish I could be in your arms. I’ll see you soon.”

Tears filled Jeremy’s eyes as he read the emails. It was clear he’d been a greater fool than he first thought.

After taking a long walk around the block, Jeremy decided to contact the police. Maybe this boyfriend knew where the majority of the money was, because he couldn’t figure out where a sum that large could have gone.

And he didn’t want to think about it anymore. All he wanted was for her to be out of his mind and heart forever.

Kristen sat on her bunk, thinking of all she’d done and felt sick.

She was forty-five-years-old and had been sentenced to seventeen years in prison. She’d chosen “no restitution” because there was no money left to pay back. All that remained was a mountain of evidence in the form of a second set of books they’d found hidden in the ceiling tiles, and Italian owners who’d felt angered and betrayed by someone they’d once considered family.

She was lucky they hadn’t killed her.

The more she thought of it the more she wished they had. She’d been in prison for three years already and couldn’t figure out how she’d make it through. She would have been better off as alligator food in the Everglades. What was there left to live for?

After lights out the sound of Kristen’s anguished cries filled the quiet prison, a deep, guttural wail from the depths of her very being.