When Tamsen arrived, two days later, Paul told her about a terrible dream he’d had, one not particularly difficult to interpret. He’d been with his parents at the Mall of America. They’d become separated and couldn’t find one another, which filled him with anxiety, even though he was a full-grown adult and not a child. Eventually he found his mother, who informed him, “Your father isn’t with us anymore. His heart is stuck.”
“Can you get your father online?” Tamsen asked.
She’d arrived just before six. Paul was cooking her a relatively fancy dinner by his standards, veal scaloppine in a mustard cream sauce with wild mushroom risotto, matched with a spectacular Chianti, or so the wine salesman at the liquor store had claimed. He wanted to do something special for Tamsen, to pay her back for all the things she’d done for him. She said her cooking instructor would have been pleased. Stella was under the kitchen table on scrap patrol.
“Probably,” Paul answered her. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. Why?”
“Your dream made me think of something.”
Paul called his mother and got her to turn the computer on and set it up for his father to use. When they were ready, Paul asked Tamsen what she wanted him to say.
“I usually start by asking him how he’s feeling,” Paul said.
“Do that, then,” she said.
PaulGus: How are you feeling today? Better?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: We’ll just take it easy today, then. Okay?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: It’s a beautiful day here today. Is it a beautiful day there?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: Well, we’re very much enjoying the sunny weather. Have you watched any golf on television lately?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I think this kid Tiger Woods is amazing. Don’t you?
HarrGus: YES
“This isn’t exactly going anywhere,” Paul told Tamsen.
“Tell him you think Tiger Woods’s father must be very proud of him,” Tamsen suggested.
“Why don’t you type?” Paul said, rising from the chair and offering her the keyboard. “He won’t know the difference.”
“Paul, please,” she said.
“If you have something in mind, just go for it,” Paul said, gesturing toward the open chair. “I give you permission. It’s better than you telling me what to type. If it takes too long, he loses focus.”
Tamsen took a seat at the keyboard.
PaulGus: his father must be very proud of him.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: last time i asked you if you loved your son paul. do you remember that?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: are you proud of your son paul?
HarrGus: NO
“Gee,” Paul said, “this is making me feel much better.”
“Just wait a minute,” she told him.
“What does this have to do with my dream?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It just made me think that maybe you got it backward.”
“How did I get it backward?”
“You didn’t lose him,” she said. “He lost you. He’s the one who had the stroke.”
PaulGus: do you love your son paul?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: let me ask you this, then. do you have a son named paul?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: if you did have a son named paul, you would love him, wouldn’t you?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: but as far as you know, you don’t have a son named paul?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: i’m a little confused as to why you say that. are you still feeling confused about some things?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: do you know what day it is? or what year it is?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: do you know the names of all the people who come see you?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: sometimes you forget?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: do you have a son named carl?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: and a daughter named elizabeth?
PaulGus: and you know that because they come to visit you and tell you who they are?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: but nobody named paul comes to visit you?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: does the name paul gustavson ring a bell for you?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: is that person related to you?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: is that person your father?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: and do you understand that this is paul you’re talking to over the computer?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: so is it your understanding that you’re talking to your father? that all these times, you’ve been talking to your father?
HarrGus: YES
“Now this is getting interesting,” Paul said.
His grasp of family history wasn’t as complete as it could have been. He remembered his grandfather and namesake as a quiet, stern, undemonstrative man, an architect who designed railroad stations and yard depots for the Northern Pacific Railway. He gave everybody five dollars for their birthdays, always a crisp, unwrinkled, unfolded bill, tucked into special cards with a window cut in the front to frame Abraham Lincoln’s face. He’d seen four of his boys leave to fight in World War II and welcomed three home, having lost Inger, his second oldest, in the invasion of Normandy. Harrold had served in the Pacific. Neither Paul’s father nor his uncles ever spoke of what happened during the war. Paul’s grandfather died when Paul was nineteen.
“So Harrold has thought all this time that he was talking to his father,” Paul said.
“Apparently,” Tamsen said.
“I’m going to have to go back and reread our previous conversations,” Paul said. “Switch seats with me.”
Paul typed.
PaulGus: I guess there’s been some confusion then. You think I’m your father?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I apologize, Harrold. And I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that you’ve had a stroke. There must be all kinds of things that you wish you could say to me. Things you never got a chance to say when I was alive.
HarrGus: YES
“What are you doing?” Tamsen asked.
“Pretending to be my grandfather,” Paul said. “If that’s who he thinks this is.”
“That’s lying,” Tamsen said.
“I know,” Paul said, “but when is he going to get another chance to talk to his father?”
PaulGus: I’m very proud of you for the way you’re handling this. I’m proud of you for the way you’ve lived your life. You’re a good man and a good father. I imagine there were times when you felt like I could have been a better father.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I never said this often enough, but I want you to know I always loved you, even though I couldn’t always express it.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: We both loved you, your mother and I. And we were always proud of you, even when I might have been harsh or stern with you when I was trying to teach you things or correct you when you made mistakes. We were always very proud of you. Did you know that?
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: Well, we were. We love you. I love you.
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: I have to go now.
HarrGus: NO
PaulGus: I have to go. I can’t stay. But Harrold, the next time someone talks to you on the computer, it won’t be me — it will be your youngest son, Paul. You have three children, Carl, Elizabeth, and Paul. Paul will be the person contacting you next. Do you understand?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Do you remember your youngest son, Paul, now?
HarrGus: YES
PaulGus: Do you love your youngest son, Paul?
HarrGus: YES YES YES YES YES
PaulGus: Okay. I gotta go.