Seven

 

The ache in his bladder woke him. Henry groaned and rolled over. A streetlight shone through a crack in the curtains, casting a sliver of light on the wall nearest the bathroom door. Henry rolled out of bed slowly, his bare feet coming into contact with the area rug next to the bed. He slid into his slippers and dragged himself across the tile to the bathroom. Late at night he sat down to pee. It was the easiest way to avoid an accident. He didn't really want to open his eyes.

On his way back to bed he noticed the lamp in the living room was off. It no longer sent the wisps of thin yellow light through the cracks around his bedroom door. Chandra must've come home. He opened his bedroom door and peeked out into the darkness. The living room was silent and still. Henry walked through the living room without bothering to turn on a light. He padded down the hall that led to Chandra's bedroom.

No light seeped out from under Chandra's door. He walked over and stood in front of it. He remembered when she was younger. When he got home from work late at night he'd always look in on her sleeping. He worked late a lot back then. Up until Ava died, he worked a lot. He was at work when it happened. He remembered it so clearly. Chandra was thirteen then.

He'd gotten a call at work from a stern voiced woman. "Hello Mr. Melken, this is Officer Marie Frisco." He'd been quite busy that day and couldn't imagine why a cop would be calling him. "I'm calling to inform you that there's been an accident."

He was only half listening to what she'd said until she got to the there's-been-an-accident part. At first, he assumed it was his father. "What kind of accident?" he asked. He focused all his attention on this gnarled voice on the phone.

"It's your wife, Ava Melken." She used both of her names, like he wouldn't have known who she was talking about otherwise. "She was in a collision. You should come to the hospital right away."

He didn't even remember driving to the hospital. He remembered how hard it was to get information from the receptionist. He remembered standing in the hallway lined with gurneys and IV stands, the scuffed white tiles, and the flickering of the fluorescent light overhead. He remembered seeing the doctor walking toward him in loose fitting green scrubs. His shoes were still covered in the white bags they wear in surgery. He remembered the doctor's purposeful stride. "Mr. Melken?" he asked.

Henry nodded.

"I'm sorry ..." the doctor had begun. After that, Henry heard nothing.

Henry tried to remember the last thing he'd said to Ava. He wasn't sure if it was that morning or some other morning that she stood barefoot on the porch as he went to the car. She was still in her pink satin robe. He'd always hated it when she went outside like that. She'd been talking to him, but he didn't know what about. He was too busy thinking about work. "Get inside, before the neighbors see you," he said.

At that she smiled coyly, untied her robe and flashed her yellow nightie to the neighborhood. "Ava!" he yelled.

"See you tonight, Mr. Melken," she said. She spun around on her heels giggling and went inside. He still wasn't sure if that was their last moment.

No sound came from Chandra's room. He placed the palm of his hand firmly on the door and waited. He didn't know what he was waiting for exactly. He stood there for a few minutes before walking back through the dark living room. This time the smell of Ava's favorite lilac perfume hung in the air. No matter how many years had passed, he was sure he could still smell her in the house. Sometimes he swore he even felt her brush his cheek. He stopped in the living room just before his bedroom door. "Ava?" he whispered. He didn't really expect an answer, but he stood there listening anyway. When the smell finally faded he went back to bed.

 

**

 

Henry didn't get up until ten. He'd opened his eyes earlier and had intended to get up, but somehow had fallen back to sleep. A note from Chandra waited for him on the dining table.

 

Dad,

Missed seeing you yesterday. Sorry I got up late today and didn't have time to make breakfast again. There's some granola in the cupboard. I had some. It's not stale.

Love you,

Chandra

 

Henry folded the note and put it in the trash. He wondered if she had fun last night and wanted to call her at work, but he knew that he probably shouldn't. She was busy. When he worked he used to hate it when she called him there. Most things could've waited until he got home. He took a bowl from the cabinet above the sink and filled it with granola.

When he got the milk from the refrigerator he noticed the soup Rosa had given him sitting there only half eaten. He took the soup out and transferred it to another container, then washed Rosa's container out in the sink. He had nothing better to do so he figured he'd return it to her after he'd showered and gotten dressed. Henry always hated it if someone kept something of his too long, and didn't want to cause anyone else the same aggravation. He dried the container carefully with the olive green dish towel that Chandra kept hanging on the oven door.

 

**

 

Henry thought it was rude to walk across other people's lawns. While he knew Rosa didn't mind, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. She had a nice lawn. Her grass was somehow a deeper, more pleasing green than everyone else's on the block. As he walked up the walkway, Henry could see Rosa through the big picture window in her living room.

He ignored the knocker and rapped on the door with his knuckles. She opened it immediately.

"Henry," she beamed. "John's out. Even though he's retired, he still likes to be out of the house by eight thirty. She smiled broadly.

Henry held the container up. "I just wanted to return this."

"Oh. You could've kept that. I've got plenty." She took the container from him, opened it and looked inside as if expecting there to be something in it. "Did you like the soup?"

"Yeah, it was great. Thank you." He patted his stomach like he had just eaten some.

"Come in." Rosa turned and walked into the living room.

"I just wanted to drop that off."

"Come in." She repeated as she disappeared around the corner waving her pudgy hand overhead like she was swatting at gnats.

Henry's feet sunk into the plush ivory carpet in the living room.

"Sit, sit." Rosa picked up a stack of magazines from the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm not going to stay long." His body sunk so far down into the flowered sofa that he wondered whether he would be able to get back up again. He leaned back, crossed his ankles and tried to relax. It was a nice living room. It hadn't changed much since John had died. The last time Henry had been in this room was the day of John's wake. It had seemed dark and oppressive then. People with downcast eyes dressed in black filled every corner. Now the room seemed open and bright.

He heard some banging around in the kitchen. Then Rosa appeared holding a red tumbler. She handed it to him. "It's limeade. Like lemonade, but with limes. Have you ever had it?"

"No." Henry couldn't refuse. He took the tumbler from her.

"It's John's favorite. I just made it." She took a coaster from a stack of coasters on the end of the coffee table and sat it in front of him. "Most people haven't had it before. Can you believe that?"

"I've never heard of it before."

"What a shame!" She stood in front of him looking expectantly.

Henry knew she was waiting for him to taste it so he took a small sip. "Mmm." He nodded his head and set the tumbler down on the cork coaster.

"Good, isn't it? I make the best limeade in the county." She sat down in the overstuffed beige lounge chair next to the sofa.

"You certainly do." He took another sip.

"You flatter me." She laughed. "Be careful what you say to me. John gets very jealous."

An uneasiness crept over Henry. He picked up his drink again. Rosa sat watching him. Henry didn't think of her as beautiful exactly, but there was something attractive about her.

"I haven't had a chance to take in any of those slacks yet."

"That's fine." Henry finished the drink and returned the cup to its coaster.

"Do you want more?"

"No, thanks. I should be going." He tried to scoot himself to the front of the sofa so he could get up more easily but that proved difficult.

"You don't need to go so soon."

"I have some things to do."

"Like what?" she asked.

Her question took him by surprise. He looked at her stunned for a moment, unable to think of a reasonable answer. "I go walking at the mall." Once he said it, he regretted it. How pitiful he must've sounded.

"You should come with me to the flea market."

"It's open today?"

"Not the one here. The one in Bradenton is open every day." She stood up and walked over to the long narrow table at the back of the couch and picked up a glossy red and white flier. She passed it to Henry. "It's part inside and part outside. It'll be a good place to walk around. It's nice to get a change of scenery sometimes, right?"

Henry glanced at the glossy flier without reading it. "I don't know."

"What's there not to know? I'll pick you up in about an hour. We can walk around and eat lunch together."

**

Rosa was a surprisingly good driver. Henry had tried to do the driving, but she'd insisted. He was scared at first, but she drove the speed limit and always signaled. She was confident, yet careful. They glided along in her maroon Buick in relative silence. The air conditioner cranked out in a steady hum. It didn't take long before the goose bumps started to rise on Henry's arms. Rosa noticed him cross his arms and turned the air conditioner down without a word.

"Does my driving make you nervous?" she asked after she merged onto I-275.

"No, not at all." Henry uncrossed his arms.

"You didn't want me to drive."

"I just feel more comfortable doing the driving."

"That just must be the way men are. John used to be the same way up until a year ago. Now I do almost all the driving."

"Maybe it's a control thing," Henry added.

"Yeah. I guess it is. I've always been a good driver. That seems to surprise people. Maybe I come across as flighty or something. I don't know what people must think of me, but it can't be good." She signaled and got into the left lane to pass an old red pickup truck.

"I'm sure people think you're great."

"People, but not you?"

"Yes ..." Henry was flustered. "I mean no ... I mean, you're very nice. You gave me that soup and those clothes. You even offered to take the pants in. That was very nice."

"It was, wasn't it?" She got back into the center lane.

"You know what I really admire about you?"

"You admire something about me?"

"Yes. Your lawn. It's so green and healthy looking all the time," Henry said.

"I'm good at that too, aren't I?"

"You sure are. What's your secret?"

Rosa's eyes lit up when she spoke. "The secret is taking care of it at night. I wait until eight thirty before I mow it. I would do it later but I don't want to disturb the neighbors."

"I thought you just did that because of the heat."

"No. No. Whether it's hot or not, I'd do it that way. The sprinkler system is set to go on at midnight. I fertilize it on a regular basis and use pesticides but only at about one in the morning or so."

"You're out at one in the morning taking care of the lawn!"

"That's the best time. It soaks up that stuff better in the dark. About a year ago I started doing it because John refused to do it at that hour. Now it looks great."

"It certainly does. It just seems dangerous to be out that late."

"It's not late, it's early. Besides, I take a karate class once a week."

Henry laughed. "I don't know, Rosa. I don't know."

She waved her hand dismissively. "There's nothing to know. I've done it a year already. No problem."

The Skyway Bridge rose up out of the bay in the distance. The water was the aqua blue that you see on postcards. "Chandra hates this bridge," Henry said.

"Really, why?"

"Ever since she was a little girl she's hated it. She's afraid it'll fall down. The Howard Franklin doesn't bother her though."

"That's because it's not as high."

"I guess you're right." All these years and Henry had never thought of it that way. "Even now if she has to drive across it she drives in the inside lane and tries to get off it as fast as she can." That always worried Henry. If Chandra were going to have a car accident, it would most likely be on the Skyway Bridge. Luckily, she didn't cross it that often.

"I saw someone jump off of this bridge once," Rosa said.

"Really?"

"Traffic was slow. This guy had pulled over, a couple of cars in front of me. He got out of the car and just as I passed him he leaped off the bridge."

"That's terrible!"

"Not really. I mean, if he wants to die that's his business."

"People who do things like that really need help."

"Some people get help by seeing a counselor, some jump off a bridge. One is just more permanent. It probably helps more than a counselor, too."

Henry looked at Rosa in disbelief, but said nothing.

"I don't understand it but some people just don't want to live anymore. Who are we to tell them to do anything different?" She reached down and clicked on the radio. It was a classical station. "I hope you don't mind." She glanced over at him.

"Not at all." They crossed the rise in the bridge and were heading down the opposite side. Glints of sunlight hit the water. The road snaked out before them. "It's good. This is good," Henry said.