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.
“And just like that…here you are,” she said, furrowing her brow and then smiling again. “I’m not imagining this, am I?”
Ernest shook his head.
She coughed and then tugged at a loose thread on her kimono, pulled the red string, then snapped it off. She dangled it and then dropped the loose bit into an overflowing ashtray, sighing. “Oh, dear…I’m so sorry that you’re seeing me like this.”
“It’s always good to see you, Gracious. You’re as beautiful as ever.” Ernest looked toward the kitchen, from where Juju was peeking, smiling. “And our daughters, they’re just like you. You must be so proud…”
“And there it goes,” Gracie said as she noticed the hummingbird fly away.
Ernest watched her eyes and saw the lucidity come and go, fading in and out like a television signal during a thunderstorm. He turned off the radio. Then sat back down.
“Do you remember us?” Ernest asked as he held her hand again.
“Oh, I remember you,” Gracie said with a nod, but her furrowed brow said otherwise. “You were my most…devoted friend. How could I ever forget…you?”
Ernest turned his attention to their matching wedding bands. “And you—you were the precocious girl who stole my heart.”
“Mmmm…” Gracie sat back and smiled. She seemed lost in wistful thought as she touched her lips. Then she laughed gently and asked, “Do you want it back?”
Ernest squeezed her hand. “No, my dear. That’s yours to keep, forever.”
He watched as she closed her eyes, seemingly content, patting his hand, comforted. He listened as her breathing slowed and she relaxed, pulling her lap blanket up toward her chin, resting her head on a pillow in Ernest’s direction. Then he turned to his daughter, whose smile had evaporated as she walked back into the living room. She shrugged an apology as if to say, We’ll try again some other time. But Ernest didn’t mind. He was happy to sit next to her, to watch Gracie sleep so peacefully. This was the best moment he’d had with her all year.
—
ERNEST SAT NEXT to Juju on her small, moss-covered patio and sipped a cup of tea. Her lawn hadn’t been mowed in forever, and weeds had taken over the plot that once belonged to a modest garden. He glanced over his shoulder toward the house and back to his daughter. “Your mother looks fabulous. More clearheaded than she’s been in…years. Tired, but still, she seems so…content. But now that she’s more present, she doesn’t ever leave on her own or wander off when you’re not home?”
“She never does,” Juju said as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “She’s always content with her game shows and happy with her radio and her bird-watching—a perfect roommate. We go for walks around Kerry Park. Or I’ll take her shopping at the market. She still gets confused when we run into someone who knows her and she can’t remember—she used to get really uncomfortable, agitated even. But lately she’s been more relaxed. As though she’s rediscovering things. I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, we could take her to the world’s fair. Maybe some of that excitement might unlock a few of those closed doors.”
Ernest blinked and mulled that over. Gracie seemed so happy, so peaceful. Would it be better to leave her in her bliss, rather than stir up the past and hope for more? There is good in the past, but there are things that should be left undisturbed.
Juju opened her reporter’s notebook, clicked a ballpoint pen.
“Well, my deadline isn’t getting any longer.”
Ernest nodded politely. He’d agreed to talk, to share the past.
“From what I’ve been able to find in newspaper archives and on microfiche at the library, you were what—a newborn, or a toddler?” Juju asked. “And yet nobody came forth with the winning ticket to claim you, correct?”
Ernest shook his head and looked down at his worn, wrinkled hands—old man’s hands. He touched his wedding ring and thought about Gracie sleeping so perfectly, dreaming of better days, as he cleared his throat and looked back at his daughter.
“No, although there was a baby that they tried to give away at the incubator exhibit. I wasn’t that baby, or even a toddler. I was quite a bit older. And yes, someone did claim me for their own.”
NATIVE TONGUES
(1909)