Goodbye Sydney
Bill shocked awake
mind-foggy, lying in bed next to his wife Olivia. That is, he thought he was
lying next to his Livvy. When he raised his head off the pillow and looked over
his shoulder, her side of the bed was empty. Where was she? Was she gone? Had
she left him? Had she died? An overwhelming panic afflicted him. ‘Livvy? Livvy?
Where are you? Livvy!’ He shouted louder, ‘Livvy! Livvy!’
Down the hallway
and into the bedroom Olivia came rushing. ‘Yes, Bill, I’m here, Bill. Right
here,’ she soothed, sitting on the side of the bed and taking his hand in hers.
‘There, there.’
Hearing her voice come
through his muddled brain and seeing her settled him. ‘I thought I’d lost you.
I thought I was alone,’ he cried.
‘I’m right here,
honey,’ Livvy said. ‘As always, for the last sixty-four years.’ Olivia Ivey was
84 years old, and her husband Bill was 86. Though she had slowed down
physically and was beginning to slow mentally, she was still able to run the
household and do most of the chores herself. For the past three years she had
taken on the additional task of caring for her husband, now well into dementia
and rounding the bend toward Alzheimer’s. Bill was slow in getting out of bed,
slow in dressing, slow in moving, and slow of speech, searching sometimes for
words hiding in the corners of his mind, as they were now.
‘Let’s get you
dressed and ready for breakfast,’ she said, patting his arm. She helped her
husband out of bed and over to the upholstered chair across the bedroom,
supporting him with an arm through his arm. She eased him down into the chair
and let out a sigh as she straightened up slowly to avoid aggravating her
resident sciatica. She headed over to Bill’s dresser to fetch a clean pair of
underwear, a t-shirt, and his pajama pants. Bill always slept in satin sleep
shorts, which she now gripped by the waist band to pull them off. This was the
task that she hated most—removing those shorts and exposing his crotch, which
long ago had lost any attraction for her and now disgusted her. She raised him
up to stand and pulled his sleep shorts down to his feet, having him step out
of them. Telling him to raise one leg, then the other, she tugged the
underpants up his legs until they reached his knees, then she pulled them up to
his waist, at last covering the sight of his crotch. She helped him back down
to the chair so that she could start the process over, this time with his
pajama bottoms. After that struggle was over, she had him raise his skinny arms,
wrinkled and striated, to put on his t-shirt. Finally she put on his house
slippers. She had been performing this morning task for the past six months as
Bill’s body progressively weakened, even while her own strength was
diminishing. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this.
Olivia then guided
Bill down the hallway toward the kitchen. His shuffling house shoes hissed, his
head arced toward the floor. ‘Dust bunnies, Livvy,’ he said. ‘Gotta take care
of them dust bunnies today.’ Having heard this comment every day since she
cleaned house last week, she said, ‘Yes, dear, I know. I will.’ Sighing, she
remembered an old song from decades ago: “How terribly strange to be seventy.”
Except they were in their eighties.
Feet don’t move
fast enough what a bitch dust bunnies where am I going? Olivia Livvy Livvy Liv
live it up up in the air up yours yours mine ours hours why won’t my body do
what I want it to the kitchen table cable able Mabel stop stop it
‘Stop it!’ Bill
cried as he was lowered to his chair at the table.
‘Stop what, dear?’
Olivia asked. ‘I haven’t been doing anything but helping you to the table for
breakfast. Like I do every morning, thank you very much!’ It’s too early in
the morning to be irritated, she thought, and determined to be
even-tempered for the rest of the day.
On this cool
November morning Olivia thought to make oatmeal or Cream of Wheat for
breakfast, as either of them would go down easier for Bill than a bready or
meaty breakfast. Opening the pantry door across the room from the small nook
table, she located both the oatmeal and the Cream of Wheat. ‘What do you feel
like having for breakfast this morning, Bill?’ she almost shouted, as Bill had
grown hard of hearing.
‘What? What’s
that?’ Bill replied.
‘I said, what do
you want for breakfast, Bill? Oatmeal or Cream of Wheat?’
‘What? What did
you say?’ Bill shouted.
‘Oh, never mind,’
Olivia answered. ‘We’ll have Cream of Wheat.’
‘Okay,’ Bill said,
not knowing what he was okaying.
Olivia fixed the
Cream of Wheat on the stove, taking care to keep it from boiling over. She spooned
it into two bowls, then put a pat of butter and a spoonful of brown sugar on
top. Taking care not to burn herself on the steaming bowls, she brought them over
to the table and sat them down.
Bill watched
Livvy’s hands as she gently set down his bowl of Cream of Wheat. ‘What’s this?’
he said, frowning.
‘Cream of Wheat,
dear, just what you wanted.’
‘I didn’t say I
wanted Cream of Wheat.’
Olivia took in a
breath and let it out slowly. Sighing, she said, ‘Well, that’s what you said
you wanted. And that’s what you get!’ She couldn’t believe that she raised her
voice. She broke Dr. Carter’s top rule for dealing with dementia patients. ‘Don’t
raise your voice, no matter how frustrated you get. He can’t help it.’
Bill gazed at his
bowl of Cream of Wheat for a few seconds, then slowly lifted his spoon, hand trembling.
He dipped the spoon into the bowl, then raised a spoonful of steaming cereal to
his lips, instantly burning them. ‘God damn it! It’s too hot!’ he screamed,
flicking the spoon of Cream of Wheat to the wall, where the cereal stuck and
then began a slow crawl down toward the baseboard, the spoon rattling on the
tiled floor.
This was too much
for Olivia. ‘You son of a—! You ingrate! I fix breakfast for you, and you throw
it away! Fine! Eat it or not. I’m not hungry!’ She rose up from her chair and
left the table, rushing back to the bedroom. She slammed the door and lay down
on the bed to cry angry tears.
Bill continued to
sit at the table. He gazed at the bowl of Cream of Wheat sitting before him,
steam billowing up. ‘What’s this?’ he said.
…
Bill had been
active much of his life, playing football and baseball in high school and
baseball in college. A college Biology professor, he had led field trips with
students at home and abroad. During his adult life he had at various times
played handball, racquetball, tennis, softball, and basketball, usually with
colleagues from the university. Later in life he and Olivia took dance lessons
and joined dance clubs, and even traveled to dance conventions. Until six years
ago he went to the local YMCA with Olivia three times a week for Silver
Sneakers classes to keep fit. They had retired from dancing and the Y when
their arthritis and chronic pains forced them to give up all physical activity.
That loss signaled the onset of dementia in Bill. Was giving up exercises the
cause of his dementia, or had the exercise kept it at bay? The answer was moot:
he had descended into the fog of dementia not long after stopping all physical
activity. Olivia had fared better mentally, although she had gained some
weight, which aggravated her joint and muscle pains. Caring for Bill and doing
the chores around the house, as well as shopping for groceries, were all the
physical activities she performed. Her sense of responsibility and urgency kept
her mind sharp and on task. Watching her husband of sixty-four years slowly
lose his mind and personality grieved her. Before the onset, he was
even-tempered and mild, gladly helping out around the house and enjoying the
company of friends and family, especially of his grandchildren. But now his
friends who survived into their 80’s were all dealing with their own physical
and mental issues, and the change in his personality alienated even his
children and grandchildren, who no longer wanted to be around him. Olivia was
feeling the isolation as their world closed in around them. Still, she
soldiered on, as there was no viable alternative at present. However, the
thought of assisted living was rising on the horizon. She didn’t know how long
it would be until it fully rose, and she didn’t know if both of them
would need assistance at that time. They would face that decision when it
became necessary.
…
Bill rose from the
breakfast table after watching the Cream of Wheat cool and thicken. Snapping
out of muddled nothingness, he slowly raised himself from his chair and
shuffled toward the living room. Time to go to work. Got a 9:30 lab, he
thought. He opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, taking care to
walk down the five steps crab-like, one side step at a time. Reaching the
sidewalk, he looked left, then right, and decided to head to the right, to go
to his office. Moving at a snail’s pace, he put one foot in front of the other
until he reached the end of the block. At the intersection he didn’t think to
look either way as he shuffled across the curb into the street. Fortunately,
this was a quiet neighborhood, and everyone who worked had already left.
Stepping up over
the curb to the next block, Bill moved down the sidewalk passing the homes.
When he reached a large two-story brick home, he paused and gazed at its front.
Yes, this is the Science Building, he thought, and he shuffled up to its
porch and opened the outside door. The front door was locked, though, so he
thought he must be at the back service entrance. He went around the side of the
house to the back yard, where he saw an arrangement of four Adirondack chairs
around a fire pit. This was his office, he thought, since as chairman of the
department he had a meeting table with chairs around it. He sat down heavily
into one of the chairs. He had some time to collect his thoughts before he
needed to go down to the lab.
…
Later at home, while
still in the bedroom, Olivia heard the phone ring in the kitchen. They were
perhaps the last family on the block, perhaps in the whole neighborhood, to
have a landline, and they paid AT&T handsomely for it every month. Now
who could that be? She thought. She knew that Bill wouldn’t answer it, so
she got up off the bed and went down the hall to the kitchen. She picked up the
phone from the wall and said ‘Hello?’
‘Mrs. Ivey? Is it
Olivia?’ said a woman’s voice.
‘Yes, this is
she.’ Olivia always used proper grammar.
‘This is Susan
Hartley from up the street, at 1235 Hampton.’
‘Yes, Mrs.
Hartley.’ Olivia always practiced proper social graces. ‘What can I do for
you?’
‘I just got home
from Curves, and well…uh…I found your husband sitting in our back yard in a
daze. He’s in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. It’s kind of chilly, but he’s
not wanting to leave. Can you come get him, please?’
‘Oh, I am so
sorry, Mrs. Hartley,’ Olivia said. Yes, of course. I’ll be there in a few
minutes.’
And Olivia was
there in a few minutes, having rushed in a fast walk. She apologized to Mrs.
Hartley again. It took some convincing for Bill to understand that he was not
in his office, but soon she was able to get him back home. ‘You shouldn’t have
been out like that in this cool weather, Bill,’ she said. ‘You’ll catch your
death of a cold.’ She was ashamed to think that might be a good thing.
‘I’m hungry,’ said
Bill, shivering and ignoring her. ‘What’s for breakfast?’
…
Olivia was
successful in getting Bill to eat a bowl of Cream of Wheat—‘My favorite,’ he
said, which he ate with no memory of the fit he threw earlier. After breakfast,
Olivia having gone to the laundry room to start the weekly wash, Bill raised
himself up slowly from the breakfast table chair and ambled to the living room
to sit in the recliner. He plopped down heavily into the chair and sighed, then
stared off into the distance.
Hi doctor ivey I
wonder if you have a few minutes to spare I am having a problem with this
chapter sure sure, have a seat she sits in the chair on the side of the desk
she hikes her skirt up to mid-thigh leans forward showing off the promise of
her cleavage in her V-necked sweater she reaches down to her backpack fully
displays that cleavage I gaze at the sight plump white plums she finds her textbook
raises her head meets my gaze I look away embarrassed to be caught looking she
smiles those eyes those big brown eyes composure stiff upper lip stiff stiffy
composure what’s the problem kingdom phylum class mammalia mammary mammy got it
thank you see you in class bending book back in bag great view thank you rise
up shoulder pat bye olivia
Olivia walked down
the hall lugging a basket of laundry. Seeing that Bill wasn’t at the kitchen
table, she called out, ‘Bill? Bill? Where are you, hon?’ Hearing no answer she
dropped the laundry basket on the kitchen floor and looked around, muttering,
‘Now where has he got off to? I hope you haven’t left again.’ Coming into the
living room, she found Bill sitting in the recliner, staring off into the
distance, a slight smile on his face. ‘So there you are, Bill,’ she said. He
didn’t respond or react. She raised her voice. ‘Bill? Bill!’ He snapped out of
his reverie and gazed into her face.
‘Oh, hi, Olivia,’
he said, a look of admiration on his face. He rarely called her Olivia,
preferring the pet name Livvy. She wondered what he had been thinking.
If she only knew, she would have become livid. It was a different time, a
different place, and she wasn’t that girl anymore.
…
There were no
further incidents around the house for two days. However, during that time
Olivia noticed Bill becoming more confused. Once he addressed her as Mom,
and once he called her Sydney, a name she’d never heard before. On the
second day he said he wanted to call and talk to their son Miles. Miles was
stillborn sixty years before, a tragic loss for a young couple in their
mid-20’s expecting their first child. They had spent the last three months of
her pregnancy studying boy and girl names, discussing them, even having
arguments over them. Finally they settled on Miles for a boy and Shelley
for a girl. That was back when they wouldn’t know the gender of the baby until
it was born. They were ready with names, but not ready for the loss.
Olivia tried to
head off Bill’s insistence that he call his son, and he snapped, ‘I’ll call my
son if I want to!’ She finally calmed him down by telling him that they had
lost Miles’ phone number and would have to wait until he called them. ‘All
right,’ Bill said. ‘He never calls. He’d better soon.’ Olivia knew that he
would forget about Miles and this incident within seconds as his mind moved on
to other thoughts.
Bill’s confusion
crossed a line later on that day, when Olivia walked by the open front bathroom
door and saw him on his knees before the toilet bowl, head down inside it,
apparently lapping up water. She went into the bathroom, and as she approached
she saw that the bowl was yellow with urine, and several small turds were
floating in the water. Bill was trying to mouth one. ‘Bill!’ she screamed.
‘What are you doing?’
He raised his head
up from the bowl, water dripping off his chin. ‘I’m bobbing for apples, Livvy.
I almost got one!’ Olivia rushed over to Bill and pulled him up from the floor,
Bill all the while protesting, ‘I need to get an apple, then I’ll win a prize!’
‘Oh my God, oh my
God, oh my God,’ she cried. ‘What am I to do with you?’ She guided him over to
the sink, where she grabbed a wash rag and soaped it good, wiping it across his
face. He protested like a child who had eaten a mud pie. ‘Stop that! Don’t do
that!’ After a struggle she finished cleaning his face, then walked him down the
hall to the bedroom, where she laid him down on the bed. ‘Now you rest for a
while, dear,’ she soothed. She turned on the ceiling fan to cool the room.
‘Rest for a good long time.’ Then she went down the hallway to the living room
and collapsed on the sofa, tears watering her eyes. ‘How much more of this can
I take?’ she cried.
In the bedroom,
lying on his back, Bill went into a dream, swirling around from the edges of
his mind.
room 419 she climbs up
on me naked blonde hair falling down in front of her shoulders breasts hanging
low lowering to kiss kiss kiss me taking my head in her hands sydney you are so
beautiful moving to meet her movement you are my handsome man dr. ivey she
raises up meeting my motion and her shoulder-length brown hair bounces to the
rhythm of her motion room 419 sydney I— olivia livvy I love you so much—
Hearing Bill
speaking out loud, Livvy had come to the bedroom to see what was going on. Was
he asleep? Was he just talking out loud? Finding his eyes closed, ‘What?’ Livvy
said, her face now close to his. She shook him. ‘Wake up, Bill.’ She had arrived
soon enough to hear what sounded like Sidney, then Olivia, then Livvy.
What was up with that? ‘You were having a dream, Bill. But you were talking out
loud.’ His eyes were glazed as he drifted up to consciousness. Intrigued, she
thought to quiz him about the dream. ‘What was your dream about, dear?’
‘I don’t know. I
can’t remember,’ Bill answered evasively.
During the years
that Bill was teaching Olivia had suspected him of going too far with female
students. As he had with her early on when he was a graduate teaching
assistant. Who wouldn’t? He was a handsome young man then, with that riot of
dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, and he remained handsome through his
seventies even when his hair had turned silver. Because he had crossed the line
with her, she was suspicious of him with other coeds during his career. If he
had crossed the line, he had covered his tracks well. Nevertheless, Olivia
reminded herself they had stayed together for sixty-four years, so she had
tried hard to dismiss these suspicious thoughts over the years. But Sidney?
Where did that name come from? Who the heck was he? Perhaps I should pay
more attention to what he says to himself from now on. All during these
thoughts she had been holding his head in both of her hands, and now she
released it and raised herself up. ‘You rest now, dear,’ she said, raising his
head and fluffing his pillow, ‘and I’ll come back to check on you at lunch
time.’
‘OK,’ Bill
whimpered. ‘Thank you.’ He turned over to lie on his side, sighed, and closed
his eyes.
Two days passed by
without incident. It was Thursday, the day the home health nurse usually
dropped in to check on Bill. At 9:30 AM the doorbell rang and there were three
knocks on the door. ‘Coming, coming,’ shouted Olivia as she hurried to the
front door from the kitchen, where she and Bill were finishing breakfast.
Olivia opened the door to greet their new home health nurse for the first time.
A burly black woman dressed in a pale blue uniform announced herself. ‘Hi. I’m
LaWanda Robinson. I’m your new home health nurse from the Visiting Nurses
Association.’
‘Oh, hello,’ said
Olivia. ‘Do come in; it’s chilly outside.’
‘No problem with
me, ma’am. I got’s a lot of flesh on my bones to keep me warm.’ She picked up
her black bag and walked inside. Olivia closed the door.
‘And where’s Mr.,
Mr. William Ivey this morning?’ Nurse Robinson asked, flipping through her
paperwork.
‘He’s in the
kitchen now, but I can fetch him,’ said Olivia.
‘That would be
fine,’ Nurse Robinson said. ‘We can sit at the dining room table for the tests,
if it’s all the same to you.’
Olivia showed her
to the table, where Robinson set her bag down on the floor and herself in the
chair at the same time, the chair creaking in protest. Olivia brought Bill into
the dining room. When he saw Robinson, he blurted ‘What’s this? We don’t need
maid service.’
Embarrassed,
Olivia apologized, but Nurse Robinson said, ‘No offense taken. I guess I do
look like I’m dressed as a maid.’
Olivia pulled out
a chair and helped Bill sit down on it. She said to him, ‘Bill, honey, this is
LaWanda. She’s your new nurse. She’s here to check on you.’
‘And on you, too.’
Robinson added.
‘Oh, really? Well,
OK then.’
Over the course of
the next forty-five minutes, the nurse recorded Bill’s vitals and asked a
series of questions, including a memory test consisting of five items to be recalled
every few minutes: person, woman, man, camera, TV. Other questions
regarded visual, verbal, reasoning, and mathematical skills. Bill didn’t
perform well on most of them, and he couldn’t remember the five words at all
when asked at the end of the session. While packing up Bill’s report, Robinson
said, ‘I’ll take back this report and file it with the previous ones, and we’ll
compare them to see where we are with Bill’s condition. But I would say that
there has probably been a drop-off in cognitive function.’ Robinson pulled out
a new set of papers and said, ‘Now it’s your turn, Mrs. Ivey.’
Olivia excused
herself to take Bill back to the bedroom, where she laid him down to rest, as
the tests had tired and frustrated him. ‘There now,’ she said, ‘You just rest,
and I’ll be back later to check on you.’ Then she kissed him on the cheek and
left for the dining room for her test.
Bill lay on the
bed on his back and closed his eyes. After a while he fell into a dream.
room 286 sydney you climb
on top long blonde hair partially covers her breasts legs astride my hips
slowly moving back and forth fuck me fuck me my sexy professor fuck me hard she
rides back and forth up and down back and forth up and down yes yes yes yes oh
yes room 286 six six six sex sex sex sydney sydney we must stop this stop this we’ll
be caught caught no no no let’s do this forever forever forever forever amen….
Bill woke with a
start…and an erection, such as it was for an 86-year-old man. Sydney.
Sydney. What about Sydney? Long, long ago. He might have failed the memory test,
but this memory from over forty years ago was vivid. Was it real? Or a fantasy?
He was so confused. Everything was confusing.
When he opened his
eyes he was surprised to see Olivia bending down over him, her head near his,
saying, ‘Bill? Bill? Wake up, Bill. You’ve been having a dream. Seeing his eyes
opening, she raised up, then saw the bulge in his pajama bottoms. ‘Well,’ she
said, ‘what have you been dreaming, dear?’ Although he had been having a
fantasy, among the last words he had said were out loud: ‘caught caught.’
‘Caught? What does
that mean, Bill?’ Olivia asked, eyebrows raised.
‘Nothing. Nothing.
I don’t know. It’s all so confusing,’ he said. However, he did know what
he had said; it was so vivid.
‘Well, whatever it
was, you got a hard-on from it,’ Olivia said, then turned and walked out of the
bedroom.
‘Livvy?’ Bill said
to her retreating back, ‘I love you. You know that, don’t you?’
Olivia stopped,
then turned around. ‘Yes, dear, I know.’ She continued down the hall.
Although Bill had
lost nearly all of his short-term memory, he could still remember events from
decades ago. He could remember his father teaching him to tie his shoes; supper
meals when he spilled his milk frequently while reaching for serving bowls; his
first kiss at age 12; the high school baseball game in which he went four for
four, hit a home run, and threw out a runner at home from left field. He
remembered his first date with Olivia, the cutest girl on campus. He remembered
his wedding and honeymoon, the births of his daughter Shelley and son Danny,
his first class as a college professor, and the first class in which Sydney
Merritt was a student and then became a biology major. This last memory
confused and troubled him. Why Sydney Merritt? What was there about her that
found root in his deepest memories? He must try to dig through those memories,
if only he could.
Unfortunately,
since this thought went into his short-term memory, it was lost within seconds.
…
Several days
later, in the middle of November, while Olivia was out grocery shopping, Bill
left the house thinking that he had an appointment at Dr. Carter’s office,
which was of course way across town near the hospitals. And of course he had no
appointment. He was wearing sweat pants, a sweat shirt, and his house shoes.
When he reached the sidewalk he looked both ways, trying to remember the
location of Dr. Carter’s office. He decided to travel south down the street.
After walking three blocks he thought he had arrived at Dr. Carter’s office, which
was actually a single-story bungalow with a wide front porch and two wicker
chairs with a small table in between. He walked up to the porch, sat down in
one of the chairs, and waited patiently for his turn to be called.
While sitting on
the porch, Bill’s mind descended once again into a dream.
Doctor doctor give me the news doctor carter harder losing
muscle mass my ass losing cognitive skills ills pills man kills assisted living
no way I say livvy takes care of me me me Sydney she pops in the office closes
door the whore we need to talk let’s take a walk to the parking lot upset I’m
pregnant what that can’t be yes it is tested three times I’m pregnant that is
terrible what are you gonna do what am I gonna do you did this to me
you’re part of this what are you gonna do is it even mine how can you
say that of course not there’s no one else since you the last six months I
wanted you no boy could ever come close have you thought about abortion thought
about it I’m a Catholic and this baby is your baby our baby how about adoption
no I’m not going to carry this baby to give it away but there must be something
you can do there’s no you in this it’s us this baby is ours yours mine
ours well this is a shock and I can’t think right now give me your phone number
I’ll call you with a plan the only plan is for you to be with me and our child
ok ok let me figure out how to do that oh my god oh my god what can I do about
this livvy danny shelley my job shame divorce how could she do this to me think
think think yes yes that’s the only way out hello sydney I’ve thought about
this and I have a plan meet me at the 7-11 on the west side of town at 7:30 we
can talk about our future that’s a strange place to meet I can show you an
apartment just outside town that would be perfect and there’s also a road into
the trees where I’ve heard the kids go to make out we can go there for some privacy
while we’re out and making plans yes I know the place I’ve been there before ok
I’ll see you then honey I need to go back to the office I forgot some materials
I need for class tomorrow ok got away now to the 7-11 there she is next to a dodge
dart hi there come on let’s go ok let’s go park first and get off the road I’d
love to we’re there back into the space back into the back seat where there’s
more room we talk we plan sure I’ll leave livvy her bright eyes bright with a
bright future I take her head in my hands and we kiss deeply deeply I say
goodbye sydney you’re hurting me quit squeezing hard she beats me on my chest
with her puny fists I wrench her neck she screams kicks I grab her neck with
both hands and squeeze squeeze squeeze hard thumbs press her throat she tries
to pull my hands away kicking and gurgling soon she’s silent and limp what now
what now what now my love lay her across the back seat drive to the
construction site west end of town no houses near building apartments on slabs
pull around back of one unfinished building large square hole in the ground
prepared for slab pull the body gorgeous body out of the car drag her down
center of the square hole shovel on ground nearby how fortuitous digging hole
breath fogging in the cool night air covered over pat down the mound she’s a
foot under dirt maybe tomorrow there will be a concrete pad poured this is the
plan stan stan the man musial swingin’ stan the man wait till all cars pass by
on the highway lights of the town in the east pitch dark here out back to town
to the office then back home free free free I’m free thank you god I’ll be good
from now on god if you just protect me goodbye sydney goodbye forever….
‘Who are you? What
are you doing on my porch?’ said the woman in the green uniform, just arrived
back from her shift at the hospital. ‘Who’s Sidney?’ Then seeing the confusion
on Bill’s face, she softened. ‘Where do you live, old man? Let’s get you home.’
In a rare moment
of lucidity Bill—who had forgotten why he had walked three blocks from home—recalled
his address. ‘Come on, then,’ she said, ‘let’s walk you home. You must be cold
in just those sweats.’
Soon they arrived
at the Iveys’ house, where Olivia was standing on the porch, hands on her hips,
wondering where Bill had gone off to. The nurse introduced herself and
explained how she had found Bill. ‘You might think about placing him in
assisted living or memory care,’ she said.
Irritated by yet
another suggestion of assisted living for Bill, having heard it several times
from Dr. Carter, yet ever gracious, Olivia thanked the woman for bringing him
home and brought him into the house. Once inside, she said to Bill, ‘Well, that
was certainly an adventure, Bill. Am I going to have to take you with me
whenever I leave the house from now on?’
Bill appeared not
to be listening. His eyes flitted from side to side, and, agitated, he began to
shake all over. ‘Are you cold?’ Olivia asked. ‘Let’s get you to the couch, and
I’ll put an afghan over you and make
some tea.’
Shuddering, Bill
threw off Olivia’s comforting arms. ‘Leave me alone!’ he cried. He swatted
wildly at the air in front of him. ‘Leave me alone! I’ve finished with you!’
‘What?’ Olivia
said, first thinking that he was speaking to her. ‘What, Bill? What do you
mean?’
‘I was finished
with you long ago! Stay away from me!’
Standing in front
of Bill in his reverie was Sydney, not as alive but as dead, reaching for him
with outstretched arms. He flailed his arms to push away the sight, but the
vision wouldn’t fade. She said It’s yours, mine, and ours. Together.
Bill collapsed to
the floor, hitting his head. ‘Bill! Bill!’ screamed Olivia. ‘Bill, what
happened?’ She knelt to the floor and cradled his head in her arms. He had
fainted, she thought, or perhaps had died. Hearing him breathe, she laid his
head down to the floor and called 9-1-1.
…
‘He’s had a
TIA—transient ischemic attack—or a stroke in layman’s terms,’ Dr. Sharma, the
neurologist, told Olivia. ‘It seems to have occurred in the left hemisphere,
which has resulted in aphasia—difficulty with language—and partial paralysis of
his right side. His memory will be further impaired, as you’ve told me he has
dementia. I’m thinking the TIA may have pushed him over into Alzheimer’s, or he
may already have been there, I’m afraid. He may not recognize you anymore.’
‘Oh dear,’ said
Olivia, ‘this is terrible news, just terrible.’
‘I would suggest
you contact your primary care physician—Dr. Carter, is that right?—about
placement in a memory care rehab facility.’
‘Oh no, I was
afraid it would come to this.’
‘I’m sorry, but
that seems to be the prognosis. We can hope for a better outcome, of course.’
Then Dr. Sharma patted Bill on his shoulder and also patted Olivia’s hand, then
excused himself, leaving Olivia and Bill to face each other and the future.
Bill opened his
eyes and saw Olivia sitting next to his bed. ‘Hwer, hwer, hwer a-a-am I?’ he
mumbled.
‘You’re in the
hospital, Bill dear. You’ve had a stroke. But you’re still alive, and that’s a
good thing. I thought I had lost you.’
Uncomprehending at
first, Bill finally understood the news, which struck him hard. He closed his
eyes and cried, wishing it weren’t true. Then, looking at this woman sitting in
a chair next to his bed, he mumbled, ‘Hw-, hw-, who are y-y-you?’
Devastated, Olivia
realized that Bill hadn’t recognized her. Nevertheless, she tried to bring back
his memory. ‘It’s me, Olivia, your Livvy, honey, Livvy. I’m right here, as I
have been for over sixty years.’
Bill scanned her
face, dimly recognizing that this woman was someone he had met before. He saw a
young, pretty teenaged girl with long brunette hair. ‘Sh- Shelley,’ he blurted,
referring to their daughter.
‘No, dear, Shelley
is our daughter. I’m Livvy.’
‘Li-, Li-, Liv-
Liv-vy,’ Bill tried to repeat. As he studied her face, it morphed into Sydney’s
face, Sydney’s eyes bugged out as he choked the life out of her. ‘N-, n-, n-,
no!’ he cried. ‘Sor-, sor-, sor-, sorry, syd-, syd-, syd-,’ he cried.
‘What?’ Olivia
said. ‘Sid? Sid? Sid who?’ Then it flashed in her mind. ‘Sidney? Sidney? What
about Sidney?’
Bill closed his
eyes, but the image remained before him in his mind. He shook his head to the
left, unable to shake it to the right.
As Olivia looked
on at Bill, her mind raced, trying to find meaning in these last references to
a Sidney. Sidney who? Was Sidney a friend from years ago? Was he someone Bill
knew as a child? Was he someone he met in a class in grad school? Was he on one
of Bill’s various teams? What about Sid, or Sidney? As she pondered these
questions, Bill began to mumble, struggling for words. She was able to pick out
only a few utterances.
‘Sydney…caught…can’t
be…how could…you…pregnant…plan….’
Intrigued, Olivia
leaned forward and prodded Bill to say more. ‘What, dear? What did you say?’
‘No…no…dirt…dig…dig…free…goodbye…Sydney….’
‘What?’ This
string of words didn’t make sense to Olivia. This Sidney—could he be a she?
Was Sydney a girl Bill knew before he met her? Did he get her pregnant? He
never spoke of affairs he had before they met. But…but…but, remembering her disturbing
suspicions years ago about his relationships with female students, what if this
Sydney was a student? No, he would never have had an affair with a
student. There was too much to risk. Or would he? If he did, and Sydney were
pregnant, wouldn’t he have confessed this to her? What about those words dirt,
free, dig, and goodbye? What did they mean? Growing
disturbed the more she thought about it, she pressed Bill for more information.
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, ‘What about Sydney? What happened with
Sydney?’
‘Neck. Pret-ty
neck. squeeze. dirt. heav-y. Shov-el. Good-bye syd-ney. free. Liv-vy. Please,
go away!’ It was clear that Bill was hallucinating, but the import of this
string of laden words struck Olivia. Was Bill hallucinating about a student he
had been having an affair with? What did he do? What in heavens did he do to
her?
Growing more and
more upset, Olivia said, ‘Bill, what did you do to Sydney? What did you do to
her?’
‘No…no…no!’ Bill
responded.
‘Oh my God, oh my
God, oh my God!’ Did Bill kill one of his students? No, no, no. Is this a
hallucination? Could she confirm this? She remembered that when Bill had
retired eighteen years ago he had brought home several boxes from his office,
filled with mementos mostly, as he had donated all of his books to the Biology
Club to sell to make money for their activities. She would go home to rummage
through those boxes seeking any mentions of a Sydney.
‘Bill, I’m going
to leave you now to go home for a while. I’ll be back later,’ she assured him.
He seemed to have settled into sleep, the grimace from the stroke frozen on his
face.
…
When Olivia arrived
home, she dropped her handbag and keys on the kitchen counter and rushed as
fast as her body could manage down the hall to Bill’s “office,” his space
filled with mementos and treasures from all his past activities: awards,
certificates, trophies, travel brochures, and pictures of faculty, staff, and
students at the University. Olivia picked up a framed group picture of Bill and
several of his students taken on a trip to Costa Rica. Could one of the young
women in the photo be this Sydney? Rooting through his desk drawers, she found
several grade books. They seemed to be a selection of grade books, not covering
the whole range of his career. The earliest were from the 1970’s, starting with
1973-74. She turned the pages looking for student rosters and class grades. No,
no Sydney in this grade book. Then she picked up the 1974-75 grade book but
didn’t find a Sydney in it. While browsing through the 1975-76 book she found a
Sydney Merritt in a Fall 1975 Biology 101 class. This had to be the one; how
many Sydneys are there anyway? Flipping through the pages, she found Sydney in his
Environmental Biology class in the Spring 1976 semester. Sydney was also a
student in his introductory Botany class in the Fall of 1976, and she was in
three more of Bill’s upper-division classes the next year. The last class she
was in was in the Fall of 1977, an independent study in Botany. Clearly she was
a Biology major, and she might have been Bill’s advisee. They would have worked
closely together in that independent study project. How closely? Too closely?
Did they have an affair? Unthinkable! Bill was a loving husband and a doting
father to his children. He wouldn’t risk losing them because of an affair with
a student! But then he was also a handsome man then, the reason that she had
fallen for him. Obviously female students would have fallen for him, too. But
could he have…, no, it was more than unthinkable. He would have
confessed to her if he had had an affair, and wouldn’t he have been unable to
hide the fact that he had killed that girl? However, that’s what his crazed
words seemed to imply. His conscience was finally afflicting him down here near
the end.
And then Olivia realized
the sham that was their marriage. Her husband was carrying on with a student!
He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He couldn’t stay faithful to his trusting
and faithful wife of 64 years. She had been tempted a few times when she was in
the work force, as she was an attractive woman, but she always remained true to
her first love, her handsome husband. How often the men had hit on her, and how
often she had turned them down. Always! What about Bill? If he had an affair
with one student, would he have had more affairs? Had he made a mistake with
this student, this Sydney? And had he killed her? Killed her to maintain his pretense
of a marriage and to protect himself from scandal? He would have lost his
teaching position. He would have lost his family, because Olivia would have
been devastated. He had to protect himself, and what a price Sydney Merritt had
paid!
The more Olivia
thought about this end-stage revelation, the angrier she grew. He cheated. He
lied. He murdered! He must own up.
Olivia grabbed her
car keys and her handbag and left for the car. She was going back to the
hospital to confront her husband.
On the way to the
hospital, trying her best to contain her boiling rage, Olivia had a horrible
thought: what if Bill in his hallucinations had blabbed in front of the nursing
staff? What if he had confessed in his ramblings? Would a nurse have believed
him and reported it to her supervisors, or would she have dismissed it as
incoherent ravings caused by Alzheimer’s? What must she do about this?
Soon Olivia
arrived at Bill’s room, to see a nurse checking his vitals and moving his body
to a different position. ‘How’s he doing?’ she asked.
‘About the same.
His pulse ox is normal, but his pulse is racing. He seems disturbed about
something and has been trying to say things. But it’s mostly gibberish, doesn’t
make much sense.’
‘He’s just started
this since his stroke,’ Olivia said.
‘Yeah, maybe it
unlocked memories that he just can’t spit out.’
I sure hope he
doesn’t.
‘Well, thank you, nurse, for taking good care of him.’
‘You’re welcome.
If you need anything, just press the Call button.’ She smiled and left the
room, closing the door behind her.
Olivia settled
down slowly into the chair next to the bed, wincing at a pain in her right
knee. ‘Well, dear, I’m back, and it’s just you and me,’ she said. ‘You know,
I’ve been looking around in your office, and I found a Sydney Merritt in your
grade books. Did you have an affair with her, my dear? For how long? Did you
get her pregnant? Did you do something about that, Bill? Did you kill her? Did.
you. kill. her?’ she said through gritted teeth, tears forming in her eyes.
‘You behaved at home like nothing happened. When you had sex with me, did you
imagine I was Sydney? Wasn’t I enough for you?’
Bill began to shiver,
his left hand and leg jerking. He tried to speak, but couldn’t do more than
utter nonsense syllables.
‘I see what I said
is making you nervous, Bill. It’s true, isn’t it? You carried on with a student
and acted like the perfect husband when you were at home. You became a deacon
at church, you taught Sunday School classes, with secret sin in your heart. And
not just adultery, but murder. And now you’ve probably revealed it to the staff
here. What am I going to do with you, Bill? What am I to do?’
Bill opened his
eyes wide and looked up at Olivia, trying to mutter something, but it was no
use. Fear spread across his face. What was he trying to say? It didn’t matter,
though. She knew what she had to do. Wincing from back pain, she stood up from
the chair and went over to the blinds over the hall window and closed them.
Then she bent over the bed. She put a hand under Bill’s head and raised it up,
pulling out the pillow with the other hand, then gently laid his head back
down. Fluffing the pillow, tears clouding her eyes, she fixed her gaze on her
faithless husband and said, ‘Goodbye, my love.’ Bill’s eyes widened further as
he realized what his Livvy was about to do, and she covered his face with the
pillow, pressing down hard. His good left hand tried to pull the pillow away,
but it wasn’t strong enough. Olivia could hear his muffled grunts through the
pressed pillow. After a minute his struggles ceased, and he was still.
Olivia removed the
pillow to see Bill’s eyes still staring up in space, a sight that frightened
her. She looked away as she replaced the pillow underneath his head. Then she
went over to the blinds and opened them. Before she had a chance to press the
Call button, a nurse opened the door and rushed in, having seen the room
monitor at her station. Olivia cried, ‘He just opened his eyes and looked up
and stopped breathing!’
…
After the funeral
all the extended family left, except for their daughter Shelley and son Danny,
who hung around the house to help clean up. They left the next day, and after
she bid them goodbye, Olivia sat down heavily in the recliner and let out a long
sigh. Apparently Bill had taken his secret to the grave. She had killed him but
also protected his name and reputation. As she pondered the events of the past
two weeks, she wondered if the body of Sydney Merritt had ever been found. She
wondered if Sydney had even been reported as missing. Why didn’t I think of
this sooner? She didn’t remember any local news in the late 70’s reporting
a missing person, much less finding a body. Bill must have buried her where
nobody would ever find her. Still, she was curious. How could she satisfy her
curiosity and do it in private? Bill had a twelve-year-old computer in his
office, his fourth one over the span of forty years. He was never one for
replacing functional equipment with the newest model, whether it was vehicles
or appliances or electronics. This computer was probably near the end of its
life, but it was sufficient for Bill. She knew a little about internet
searches. She decided to power it up and conduct a search for missing persons
or discovered bodies in the region during the mid-to-late 1970’s. After nearly
an hour of searching on Google, she found nothing. Then she searched for Sydney
Merritt, which she thought had to yield more useful results.
Olivia was
surprised to see at least a dozen Sydney Merritts from all over the country
show up on people search sites. She had no idea how popular the name Sydney
was. But she wasn’t going to pay those sites to learn details about the lives
of those Sydney Merritts. Then she thought she would search on Facebook,
unaware that Facebook posters were living persons, except for the ones who had
passed away and whose accounts remained open. She had never used Facebook, but
Bill had his own Facebook page, or whatever they called it. She opened Facebook
and brought up Bill’s home page. So how do you use this? There were
several “notifications” for Bill, which she ignored. Looking around the site,
she found Search Facebook in the upper left corner of the page. She
typed in Sydney Merritt and found several, not as many as on the people
search site. She clicked on a number of the names, only to discover that they
were all too young or living in England or Australia. Some of these women had
married names, like Sydney Merritt Johnson. No. Too young. Sydney
Merritt Busch. No. Too young. And besides, still alive. Olivia didn’t know
why she had looked up these names on Facebook, as it wasn’t a news site.
Sydney Merritt
Jackson.
Dr. Sydney Merritt Jackson. Retired from Monsanto/Bayer Plant Science Division.
This person looked interesting, though she was obviously not whom Olivia was
looking for. That Sydney Merritt would have died about forty years ago. Still,
she scrolled through the About page to learn what she could. This Sydney had
been married in 1978, had celebrated her 40th anniversary in 2018,
and had two children and four grandchildren. She earned her Doctorate in Botany
from the University of Iowa, a Master’s degree from Kansas University, and her
B.S. in Botany from Central Missouri University. OK, that’s close, within the
state. But just below Central Missouri University was another line. Attended
Southern Missouri College. Majored in biology. This Sydney Merritt had attended
Bill’s college before transferring to Central Missouri. And today she posted a
picture of a gathering with her grandchildren. This Sydney Merritt is still
alive.
This Sydney
Merritt is still alive!
