Thursday, April 10, 2008

5)Just how crazy


Mariah's mother was doing the books at her gift shop at Cheekleaf when she realized she couldn't add or subtract. It was just like that.

The next day we all knew she was in the hospital for tests. Mariah came out of her office under the grand staircase and was putting on her hat and coat. She stopped at Information and said it was a brain tumor. Four or five of the booksellers leaned forward over the counter to reach her and touch, and then Mariah left for the day.

Six weeks later my dad was down on the floor again with another stomach ache. As I recall, we'd been stepping over him for days. You'd find him just about anywhere, holding his breath and he'd say, don't worry, just have to be still for awhile. This morning my mom was at school, my sister at work, and I was about to leave also.

Actually, this time he wasn't on the floor, but lying on the bottom steps of the stairway.

This is crazy,

I said to him, "This isn't right."

"I'm starting to think that too," he said in a voice like he was holding a bong hit.

I got him in the car. "Are you scared to die?"

"Not scared, John. More like being cheated." He was 57 years old. "Worried about your mom. I want you to grow up and not depend on her."

I dropped him off at Vanderbilt's E.R. and went to work. That night, there was still no one home and it was past nine o'clock. I'd forgotten him, and now I was so afraid I couldn't go upstairs to my room and drink. I knew what was coming.

Finally I heard two car doors shut and rapid footsteps up the back deck stairs and my mom and Jane came in shaking and crying. It was liver cancer. The surgery would be early tomorrow.
________
So it was for months. Chemo, radiation, surgery, no hope. Mariah's mother had the worst of it. She wanted someone to shoot her. My dad couldn't eat, he couldn't even stand the smell of food. He lived on malts and would knock on my door for marijuana, which helped his nausea. Mom and Jane insisted he stop smoking, like he was going to live, and he was good natured about it, sneaking around.

Once I came home and they'd discovered the cancer had spread to his colon. Everyone was in the dark living room watching TV. Dad was on the couch, which was in the middle of the room, and I got on my knees behind it and I wasn't crying or anything but he had his arm resting on top of the couch and I put my hand on his forearm and sort of rested my head a moment. He said he was all right. I asked if I could go to Missouri for a couple of days. He joked was that a northern couple, two days, or a Southern couple, like 'a few'. I said "a couple few".

He said sure and then I called Mariah at home and she said of course, go.

In Missouri, at the Zigzags, I slept too long, accidentally getting sober. I'd never had a panic before now. I went out the bedroom window and bought a 12-pack on the way out of town. I swore to myself I'd never travel to this side of the Mississippi again, and not only because of that damn bridge in St. Louis. Then the beer didn't calm me down until I was entering the St. Louis city limits.

So I made it home early, and back to work early, and Mariah wasn't expecting me. We spotted one another in some long narrow hall way of back stock and just naturally walked toward one another and hugged. Disengaging, she laughed and palmed away a tear and said the Sheriff hurt his back again so this was really good timing.

A few days later Ingram Books invited the owners and Mariah out to their warehouse, and then Mariah invited me along since the Sheriff was still out. It was a half hour drive, and I remember that it was fun, chatting with Miss Davis and Miss Kidd, hearing their stories of the early days of the great bookstore.

I mentioned that my dad was a vice president at Ingram Video. They asked about his health and I said his morale was fine and his doctors were great but he wanted to move back to Iowa and they were having trouble selling the house.

To have this in common. Autumn upon us now, night-time a black veil, my parents' house so far from the Nashville city lights.

Mariah asked me when was my court date, for the D.U.I. charge.

We'd meet at the top of the parking garage at work and then drive downtown in her new car.

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