Chapter 24

When the time came to move in with Garnish, Emm couldn’t wait to get away from Darold’s. He was uneasy about what lay ahead, but eager to leave behind Virginia, who was less welcoming than during his first stay. She flicked her crumbs toward Emm’s place at the table, and he could swear that after he made his bed each morning, she rumpled it while he was in the bathroom.

He was also worried by a change in Darold. A month or two ago, Virginia’s barbs had rolled off him. But lately, as Emm’s return had increased their frequency and intensity, Darold coughed more after each of her outbursts. His chest sagged under the weight of her incessant disapproval. Emm hoped that his going would ease the tension between them. Ditto his spending more Saturdays with Foy and leaving the pair to themselves. He’d never appreciated the importance of a husband and wife having time alone together. Now he regretted that he and Izora hadn’t had more time with each other before the babies began coming and was even sorrier that they’d never had a chance to be alone again after the children left home. Izora had died too soon.

It was time to call Mrs. Cray. Today, when she asked what he’d learned, he would have an answer. For the third time, with a third child, Emm called to mind the Carnegie quote, “If only the people who worry about their liabilities would think about the riches they do possess, they would stop worrying.” He told the social worker that he’d become more accepting of his limitations and less angry at life for having disappointed him. He explained what he’d learned from Foy.

“You’ve taken a big step forward, Mr. Benbow. But don’t just apply the lesson to your waning physical and mental abilities. Your dwindling list of children is also a liability.”

Emm was confused. “Are you saying that the riches I possess are shrinking?”

Mrs. Cray laughed. “Well, the central office limits the number of times you can register a change of address to mail your pension checks to, and you are running out of those.”

It took Emm a second to realize that she was joking.

“I’m saying that you can afford a decent old age home, like Kingsbridge, provided they still have an opening by the end of the year. Consider changing your attitude and behavior to make living in that kind of setting an acceptable alternative. In case none of your children work out.”

Emm did consider it as he set about tidying Darold and Virginia’s house. Could he accept Mrs. Cray’s premise that living in an institution would not be so bad? His days would be orderly. He could shed his unnecessary possessions and no longer witness the house falling apart around him. The newspaper could be delivered to his room and taken away by the janitor when he was done with it. The food, while bland, would not endanger his health. He could dine with the ladies. There would be people around if he fell or got sick, and he might even make friends, as Foy had, and get them to join him in the common room for activities livelier than watching television.

But for all that he’d changed, Emm was not Foy, and Kingsbridge was not a cozy group home. The fear of living in an institution persisted and grew into a new obsession. Only in this case, Emm’s need was not to get something, but to avoid it. The threat of “upstairs” loomed larger than ever, a reverse descent into hell.