returned home within the hour, and after unpacking the bags of unneeded items and storing them away, she left the pills on the counter. She eyed them warily. It was hard telling what they would do an elderly person. She’d never taken anything like this in her life, over-the-counter or not. Squaring her shoulders she returned to the living room once more, where once again she perused the albums. It wasn’t as simple as one would think, picking just the right picture. A picture captures a single moment in time, not the moments before or after, so remembering precisely what was going on at that time was tricky to say the least. Certainly, when the picture was taken the subjects were smiling happy smiles, but that didn’t necessarily mean everything was fine and dandy ten minutes later. It was a lesson she learned the hard way.
She had chosen a picture of Eldon, Scott, and herself. She remembered the day, or at least she thought she had. They had been picnicking at a local park. It was a bright, sunny summer day. What could be more enjoyable than that? Scott had been roughly ten years old and had a look of glee on his face. He was clutching the new racing boat his father had bought for him at the five and dime in anticipation of taking it on its maiden voyage in the pond. Eldon, looking a bit tired, with a few worry lines around his eyes, smiled down at the boy, and she had one hand on Scott’s shoulder, the other looped around Eldon’s neck. If she had looked a little closer at herself she may have realized, but time plays tricks and memory is a slippery thing.
Back in the kitchen she filled a glass with water, and after reading the label cut the dosage in half, taking only one of the pills and forcing the entire glass of water down her throat. Refilling the glass, in case she should need it later, she took it, and one of the bottles of sleeping pills (whatever had possessed her to buy two?) into the bedroom with her. These she placed on the bedside table. Then, drawing the drapes, she laid down on the bed, clutching her locket to her chest. She felt her breathing become more rhythmic, her eyelids grow droopy, and before long she was sound asleep.
The dream was fuzzy at first, like always, and then it came around with astounding clarity. There she was, unpacking the picnic basket onto a red checkered cloth. She remembered having purchased the cloth the day before for just this occasion. Eldon looked on from his seated position leaning against an oak tree. Scott scampered around the picnic area, his boat clutched in his hands. He performed a series of sideways skips, his feet landing slightly closer to the cloth each time.
“Now, Mama? Please, now? Just for a little bit. I’ll come right back when it’s time to eat. I promise.”
His wheedling tone was biting on her nerves, though she wasn’t sure why. Why did she feel so snippy?
“Not now, Scott! I’ve already told you, we eat first, then you can go sail your boat.”
“Oh, but, Mama-”
“Scott,” it was Eldon, his quiet tone held a lot of patience, while at the same time a firmness even the child could not deny.
“Aw, Dad,” Scott’s face fell a bit at the realization he was not going to get his way, but as with most children he came around quickly just by the sheer excitement of the day. Placing the boat carefully on the edge of the cloth, he said, “Can I help you, Mama?”
“No, I’ve got it under control, thank you.” Why did she sound so curt?
“Here, Scott,” Eldon rose from his seated position, “you can help your old dad.” Eldon picked up the camera, there newest acquisition. It had cost a pretty penny considering their tight budget, but now, more than ever, Gilda was glad for its purchase a few years before. She spent almost every night going through the photo albums, reliving the past.
The two headed off towards the woods, camera in hand, with Eldon promising they’d return in a few minutes for the meal. By the time Gilda had everything plated and drinks poured they had indeed returned, and they all sat to eat. The atmosphere relaxed a bit, good food has a way of doing that, and they chatted companionably about this and that, though nothing of any real importance. After they had eaten and cleaned up, Scott snatched up his boat and scampered towards the pond. Chuckling, Eldon bent to grab the camera.
“Come on, Gilda, we’d better keep up with the boy.”
Gilda dragged her feet (what was the matter with her?), but eventually caught up with the two of them, if for no other reason than Eldon had slowed Scott down a bit. Once at the pond, Eldon decided to delay Scott’s joy just a bit longer, wanting to get pictures of the boy and his boat, the boy and his mother and his boat, and then requesting Gilda get one of him and Scott together. A nearby gentleman who had been fishing upon their arrival, kindly offered to take a picture of the three of them together, and Eldon, delighted, quickly handed over the camera.
If the smile on her face felt forced, Gilda wasn’t sure why, but she dutifully stood by while the gentleman took their picture. Then, wishing them a good day, he collected his fishing gear and walked off. Scott promptly took the signal, and heading to the area the man had recently deserted, he crept toward the edge of the pond.
“Now be careful, son,” Eldon admonished.
“I am, Dad,” the tone implied he would be a fool to think otherwise.
Carefully, Scott placed the boat into the water and watched as it wobbled precariously before up-righting itself and setting off on a rocky journey.
“Look, Dad! Look! It’s working! It’s sailing!” Scott jumped up and down on the bank.
“It sure is son,” Eldon smiled broadly at the boy. “It sure is. She’d a pretty seaworthy boat, I’d say.”
“Come on!” Scott called as he picked his way around the bank, Eldon followed, with Gilda a few steps behind.
The boat made it about a third of the way around the pond before it started a tottering turn, heading straight for the center of the pond.
“No! No!” Scott’s panicked cry echoed across the pond. “Dad, it’s getting away!”
“It’s all right son, we’ll just head to the other side. It’ll float over; the pond’s not that big. Let’s see who gets there first, us or the boat.” He was smart, turning it into a game that way. Scott’s panic forgotten, he quickly broke into a run, the natural competitiveness in his nature extending even to inanimate objects.
Eldon picked up his pace a bit, though Gilda’s remained the same. A few minutes later, Scott was calling from the other side of the pond, “Come on! Come on! The boat’s almost here! You’re gonna miss it!”
“We’re gonna miss the boat, Gilda,” Eldon chuckled at his own pun.
Gilda barely cracked a smile.
Eldon was the first to catch up with Scott, naturally. Scott began prodding his mother, “Come on, Mama, hurry up, you’re gonna lose.”
Gilda picked up her stride a bit, though not by much, and continued picking her way around the pond, keeping a watchful eye on the muddy banks. All she needed was to slip in the mud and fall in; that would put a bright cap on the day.
Less than a minute later she had joined them and they all watched as the boat wobbled its way toward the shore. It was only a few feet out when it suddenly stopped, for no apparent reason. It was as if something they could not see under the water had anchored it, bringing it to an unbidden halt. The slight breeze ruffled the sails of the boat, causing it to rock precariously, but still it did not move on.
Looking to Eldon, Scott questioned, “What do we do now, Dad?”
Eldon thought for a minute. Then, “No worries, son. Let’s just find us a long, straight stick. See if we can’t get that boat unstuck.”
Eager to oblige, Scott galloped off to the woods and before long came back with the required instrument. “Is this good enough, Dad?”
Eldon eyed the stick, sizing it up as if he were looking to make an extremely expensive purchase and wanted to be sure it was just the right thing. “I do believe so, son, I do believe so.”
He started to reach for the stick, but Scott snatched it back. “No, let me!”
“All right, but be careful.”
“I will.”
Scott picked his way
to the edge of the pond, and using the stick, he prodded at the boat. The boat rocked perilously, in imminent danger of capsizing.
Eldon quickly laid a hand over his son’s extended arm. “No, not that way. You’ll only tip the boat. Try going underneath it. See if you can dislodge whatever’s holding it up under the water.”
Nodding, Scott frowned in concentration as he took on a squatting position, and tried it his father’s way. “I can feel it, Dad, I can feel it! I’m not sure what it is, though.”
“Good job, son. Now, try and prod it with the stick. Be careful,” an intake of breath as the boat rocked precariously once more, but the tone never changed. That quiet, calm tone Eldon was always good at. “Be careful.”
“I got it, Dad, I think I got it.” In his excitement, Scott lunged forward a little. It was only a little, but it was enough to topple him from his squatting position, and before they knew it he was plunging, face first into the pond.
“Scott!” Gilda didn’t mean to, but it came out before she could stop it. The scream sent birds scattering into the air as it echoed around the pond.
Wordlessly, Eldon plunged in after the boy, coming up seconds later, Scott draped over one arm, gasping and sputtering, a bit of plant life hanging from his hair.
Panic, now subsided at least as far as Eldon was concerned, he cracked a little joke, “Nice day for a swim, huh, son?” To which Scott, still sputtering, began to giggle.
Gilda wasn’t sure what had gotten into her, she only knew she was filled with fear and rage. And the rage was quickly overtaking her.
“It is not funny! Not funny at all! You could have been hurt!”
“I’m fine, Mama,” Scott began, “really, I’m fi-”
“You are NOT fine. You’re soaking wet, both of you! And with this wind (the way she was going on you’d have thought it was an icy wind straight from the North Pole rather than the summery breeze that it was) you’ll both catch your death! Just what I need, the two of you in bed with pneumonia and me trying to nurse you both back to health at the same time! As if I hadn’t had my fill of playing nurse at a hospital bedside-!” She was stunned into silence by her own words.
The two of them just stood there, chest high in the pond, staring disbelievingly at her.
Turning on her heel, she stalked off, back to the picnic site, without another word.
Behind her, she heard Eldon instructing Scott to get his boat, but she paid no mind. She assumed Eldon had it all under control. He always did. Unlike her. She felt as if her whole world was spinning out of control, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Her emotions all roiled up, she felt tears start leaking from both eyes. Blinking furiously, she stemmed them back
If she envied anything, it was Eldon’s control. His steadfastness in accepting fate, in a way she had never, could never, be able to. All she could do was keep asking why? Why them? Why Cynthia? Why her?
Feeling decidedly sorry for herself, she began slamming things back into the picnic basket, uncaring as to whether or not she broke anything, basket included. Snatching up the cloth, a cloth she never used again, she marched towards the car.
Eldon and Scott met up with her minutes later, and it was a very quiet ride back to the house. No one uttered so much as one word. Upon reaching the house, Scott, on his father’s command, headed straight for the tub, and then to bed, the boat forgotten in the back of the car, where it remained for months to come. Gilda was never sure if Scott ever played with it again. She only knew one day it was gone from the car. She never knew who had removed it, or where it had gone. And to be perfectly honest, she had never much cared.
Now, as she sat at the kitchen table, her head held in her hands, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry. Eldon came