This one of my short stories which appeared in my “Stories for Shut-Ins” series, sent to over 300 readers during the Covid Pandemic.
Lost and Found
We’ll call the place Perch Lake, Illinois, and the time is around 1:30 in the afternoon, early summer, 2011 or so, and what we’re watching is a man about the age of 80 driving a truck so dented and rusted and rattling it must be traveling on plain spit and spite. The driver is Chester Nash, former roofer who took a fall, former farmer who gave it up and sold off most of his land, former celebrated high-school athlete who gained 48 pounds since those
The man was old but rather natty, short cloth jacket, new fedora, corduroys, looking down as he walked with a healthy stride for his age of eighty-four. When he stepped into the open-air mall from the street entrance, he raised his eyes and stopped abruptly, changing very suddenly. His chest felt empty, emptied out, except that his heart was beating hard in there, nearly hurting him with its sudden force. He swallowed and looked about and clenched his hands, his jaw, eager to get his bearings, to see where he was, but nothing was familiar, and the knowledge of being lost spread the panic from his chest to his tight arms and his jaw that was shaking now, and he was suddenly sweating, and trying to take hold of his mind and grab on to something, to a thought, any thought, but it was like putting his hands into water and trying to catch a fish. You can see them, you can touch them, but you can’t hold on. All right, all right, all right! Where am I? I’m in a mall. Where is this place? I was walking from… where? I am... I am...
He needed to catch something, some thought sliding by, some memory, some.... There was nothing there, nothing filled him but the panic. I am.... Who was he? His name, what was his name?! Christ, his name was not there. It had to be there. He looked around again for any possible.... He saw that some of the people stared at him as they walked by. He moved then, thinking that movement would bring him something, anything. He approached a store window. He saw himself in the glass, and yes. All right. That’s me. He nearly wept at the knowledge that he knew this man in the glass, this lost man. That’s me, yes. Now... who am I? What’s my life? What’s my name? Where do I live? It has to be there! Everything was just out of his reach, swimming out there. If only he could grab one piece of it, something...
He turned and took four random steps. Should he stop someone and ask? What would he say? I’m lost! They would ask, where do you want to go? Where do you live? I don’t know! He moved toward the soft splashing of a fountain. People sat there on the low wall that surrounded the water. Maybe if he sat, sat very still, it would all come back, if he just let it, if he could be calm, but there was no calm, only the fierce worry and the fear and the giant, staggering loss of everything.
He was only one step from the low fountain wall when he saw her. She was staring at him, and so he looked away. He tried to pretend he was fine. Why?! Why pretend?! He sat not far from her, and felt himself vibrating. He could feel his clenched teeth shaking, clicking, and his breath choppy and his heart still pounding him, like some machine, some mechanics in there about to give way. He was so afraid, afraid of this awful... emptiness. He looked at the woman again. She was staring, and she smiled slightly, or at least her eyes softened. There was gentleness there, maybe concern, maybe help. He looked away and looked at her again, nearly his age, pretty with her silver hair to her shoulders, a scarf that was...
“Hello,” she said softly. He didn’t speak, could not speak, and she asked, “What’s your name?”
He felt he would shatter from his shaking and from his hollowness, he would implode. He made himself speak and was amazed at the loudness of his voice, almost a shriek.
“I don’t know!”
Here she leaned toward him and put a hand on his shaking, knuckled fist, and in her eyes, very soft now and deep, she gave him one small brushstroke of hope as she said, “You will.”
He forced himself to talk to her and found he was not shrieking this time. “I will?” She nodded, so positive. Something began to loosen inside of him, slightly, very.... “When?” he asked her, and he felt some weeping in the word and made an effort to take hold, to hold on to something. Her eyes. He chose her eyes.
“It won’t take long. You think it will. You think it won’t come at all, the memory, but it will.”
“How? How do you KNOW?”
“It’s happened before,” and now she was smiling, not just in her eyes, a slight curving of her mouth.
“Before?! To me! You’ve... seen me before?! She nodded, her eyes even more tender now.
“Here? I come here?”
“Sometimes.”
“You know me?! Tell me!”
“Let it come to you.”
“Why don’t you tell me?!
“Let it come. It IS coming, you know.”
“I don’t know! I don’t.”
“You have to let it in, the remembering. Let it come. It’s going to be all right.” And he stared deeply, wondering what, what will be all right, what will ever be...
“You need to breathe,” she said, and slid a few inches closer to him.
He tried. He breathed. “I was walking. I got lost. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know WHO I am. I’m... away from where I should be...
“Yes. So that means there are people...,” she said.
“What?”
“There are people worried about you. They’re frightened. Am I right?”
He stared a moment before it struck him, coming through his fear and confusion to shake him. “Yes... Yes! I... Who are they? I feel that. I do, but... who? I...”
He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breath, but he needed to see her, her eyes, the slight smile. He needed her certainty. He opened his eyes and saw she was gently nodding.
“It’s coming,” she said, “faster than usual. You’re only on eight.” His face twisted with wondering, and she went on. “I’m keeping a slow count. You already realize that people know you and are worried about you, and now you’re only on... nine.”
“And... when,” he said, “When will I...”
“Always by twenty, and it’s only... 10 now. Who’s worried about you? A name. Who’s worried?”
He bent his head into his hands. At first it was shaking, but it stopped. “I... I think... it’s... I don’t... Bobby!” The name was torn from him, like a bandage removed from a wound. When he lifted his head she was shining a smile at him, deep and rich.
His voice broke as he said it, “He’s my son! Bobby. I have a son!”
“Me, too,” she said, chuckling. “I also have a son.”
“My son’s name is Bobby.” He said this with great pride, said it like the waving of a flag. “I have a son named Robert Allen Praymer!”
“So do I,” she said. And they were suddenly still and staring, and she had tears too, like his own, tears of happiness, and he looked at her with such wonder and a blooming realization and then a love that was deep and old and forever.
“Oh, god...” He was fully weeping now. “Oh, god... Ellie. Oh, Ellie!. I’m so sorry. How could I... ?
“Not your fault,” she said. “You should call him now... Bobby. He drives all the streets while I wait for you here. Call him.” He stared a moment, going over her words, then nodded and began touching his pockets.
“Do I have my phone?
“Inside jacket –- left.” He found his phone and stared at it, squinting.
“The... number?”
“Look –- where it says Bob. Just press there.”
He pressed, then slowly brought the phone to his ear, as if it was some new invention. He was not fully inside himself yet. Then he took in a sharp breath and said, “Yes... yes it’s me and I’m fine. I... I’m so sorry. I’m okay now. I’m with Mom at the mall, by the fountain. She found me. So sorry. I just... What? Oh, okay. Okay.” He replaced the phone and told her, “He’s coming. He’s coming here. Bobby.” He stared at her smile. She touched his face and he suddenly trapped her hand there, on his cheek, pressed it, kept it there on his skin that was wet from his tears. He drew in a deep and shaking breath, bringing himself up, straighter, fuller now, the emptiness gone. “God, I love you Ellie. And look what do I do to you? I just.... How can it all go away? Everything? How can I... empty out?”
“But here we are. Here we are, Ellie and Ted.” She put her left hand on the other side of his face and held him still and he breathed in her smile, and it filled him. “The man I love. Always and forever. The only one.” They kissed then, and dropped their hands to their laps, still holding on.
He breathed back the last of his tears and stared at her as if he was reading her, the long book of her, of them. “Not... completely true, though, as I think about it. Once... you did love somebody else.”
“You know I didn’t. You idiot. How can you say...”
They were chuckling now, and he was nodding. “Way back, he said.”
“Who?!”
“Brando. You couldn’t get enough of Brando.”
“Oh, for god’s sake. Maybe for a little while...”
“For years. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to BE Brando. I was so jealous. Years.”
“Not for that long. No. It was just BBO, remember?
He cackled then, his laughter rising into the high notes. “BBO, yes!”
“Brando Before Obesity. He WAS heavenly for a while.”
“I almost hated him.”
“Oh, bullcrap. You had your Audrey Hepburn.”
He was beaming now, so alive, so fully within himself. “That was different. That was a chaste love. You and Brando – that was lust.” He was awarded her unguarded face of laughter, and her continuing swordplay.
“And you? You were dazzled! Who could compete with her? That wasn’t fair. You have what, four books about her life, her films, all those photos… It isn’t fair that she never got fat.”
“Well, he said,” so happy now, happy to the bone, “we were never unfaithful outside the movie theater.” Their smiles shined like bright mirrors, and then he saw movement over her shoulder, someone approaching, and his grin widened even more. “It’s Bobby! Bobby’s here!” He rose and took three strides to meet his son, a man in his late forties, strong and rugged with a good, open face that was pinched with worry now. “Bobby, I’m so, so sorry, so sorry...” They held each other’s shoulders.
“It’s okay, Dad, but... Jesus...”
“I know... I hate to scare you like that, but it’s alright now. Mom was waiting right here for me. We...” He started to turn to her, but Bobby was holding him, staring, working his throat, very upset. “I’m really sorry, Bob. Let’s get her and go home.” He started to turn, but Bob held on and spoke in a choked voice.
“Dad... Dad! We lost her, Dad.”
“What? Lost her? She’s right...”
“Two years ago. The cancer came back. Sometimes... you forget. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Ted wrenched away from his son and turned to the fountain. Ellie was gone. He began looking about, whipping his vision everywhere, anywhere. “No, she was right...”
“Dad. Dad, look at me. Will ya?” Bob took his shoulders again, gently. “She’s gone. Sorry. We’re all so sorry. She’s gone. Okay... Dad? Remember? Now... let’s go home. Come on.”
Ted hesitated, staring at the fountain again, breathing it all in, breathing in the truth of everything, remembering what he didn’t want to know. With his son’s guidance, with Bob’s arm around his father’s shoulders, they began to walk to the street where the SUV was double parked.
As they reached the car, Bob clicked it open and turned to his father again, and they stared. The younger man troubled, the older man shaken, weak now. “You can’t walk alone, Dad. You just can’t.”
“Sorry.”
“Everybody was so scared. Lacey and the kids were upset. I called her, and Paula was freaking out. You can only walk with us or Paula, that’s what she’s there for.”
“I... I won’t. Okay I won’t. I promise.”
Bob opened the car door, but Ted hesitated, waiting. Bob stared. Ted put out his arms, and Bob came in for a hug, a tight one. While embraced, Ted kissed his son on the cheek. Bob squeezed them together once more and let go, then held the car door open for his father, but again Ted hesitated. “I know you don’t like it when I kiss you. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dad. Really.”
“Not in public, I know, but... couldn’t help it.”
“Come on, get in and relax. We’ll be home in five minutes.”
Ted entered the car and fussed with the belt. Bob entered the driver’s seat and helped his father, then started the car and joined the traffic – in silence for a while. Ted found himself taking long breaths. His chest, which had been empty of all but fear, now felt like a great stone. He focused on the streets, the trees, the sunlight, and he asked, in a while, “Can we just... drive a while. Not long, but...”
“Sure,” Bob said. “Beautiful day.”
Ted’s stare went everywhere: the side windows, the rear-view mirror, his son’s face. “Listen, Bob, if you don’t mind, can I get in the back, so I can stretch out a little?”
“Sure. Sure. You must be really tired. I’ll get us home.”
“In a while, okay, Bob? Let’s take a little while.”
“Sure.” Bob pulled over and got out of the car, leaving it running. He opened Ted’s door and helped his father out, then he opened the back door for him, but Ted stood still and Bob stared at him.
“One more hug, okay?” he asked his son. They embraced again, Ted pressing the man to him tightly, and for a long while. In the midst of the embrace, Bob kissed his father on the cheek. They parted then, both of them smiling slightly. Ted got into the back seat and Bob closed the door, walked around to the driver’s side, got in and drove along as the sunlight blinked in and out of the trees.
Ted did not lie down, but slowly turned to the side, not to the window, but across the seat, and he saw just a bit of her coat and hair, and turned back again, excited. He had caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror, and there she was. He didn’t want to stare, worried that his stare would make her uncomfortable and she would leave, so he glanced again. She was relaxed, looking out her window, and then staring forward. He sat a while, smiling, and took one more glance, lingering a moment on her face, and she turned to him, no smile, just looking at him. She wasn’t the Audrey Hepburn of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” but older, warmer, deeper. This was the Audrey Hepburn of a later time, the time of “Robin and Marian,” and there she was, just riding in a car beside him, looking at him, and he thought to himself that this day was not all bad, not all of it. He had had spent some time with his late wife. He had had a kiss from his son, and now he was sitting with Audrey Hepburn in the car, and his thought was this: This could not possibly be a better day. And then she smiled.