Flowers In The Dirt

Charles Ringwald knew something was wrong the moment he walked out the door of his small brick house. His house was not much different than many other houses scattered throughout his quiet neighborhood. He quickly realized it wasn't just something that seemed off.

It was everything.

It was warmer than it should be for this time of year and when did the neighbors put up that fence? Why had he never noticed that house over there before, tucked as it was between two houses he knew very well?

He had just wanted to walk down to the corner like he did nearly every day and buy a coffee. His wife must have stepped out. Maybe she went to lunch with her friends and she had either forgot to mention it or he forgot she had told him. He had slept in a lot later today than he usually did. She probably had not wanted to wake him.

He was the most confused of all when he discovered the corner store wasn't there. Thoughts raced through his head and a sense of dread and foreboding washed over him. It was quite upsetting, to say the least. The tears came easily as he sat down on a nearby bench.

"Charlie", said a voice. It was his wife's good friend, Chase. At least he slowly realized it was Chase. She looked different. She usually wore heavy makeup and put a lot of work into her hair but today she just seemed haggard. Had she been sick lately and kept it hidden from everyone?

It all happened so fast. Suddenly, a police squad car was there. He watched as poor old Chase conferred with the two officers. A moment later one of them came to him and said, "Come with us, Mr Ringwald. Let's get you home.

They only had to drive about a block but it was time enough for the other officer to look back at him from the front seat with a mournful expression and say, "I knew your daughter back in high school. She was a great girl. It's all a shame what happened."

This made no sense. His daughter was three years old.

His wife was as beautiful as ever but her face had lines and tiny wrinkles he had never noticed before. She had crow's feet and marks around her beautiful mouth and a touch of gray in her hair. He quickly realized there were far more changes than could have escaped his attention in any short amount of time.

She held up a mirror to him. He asked her in a soft quiet voice why his reflection was that of his father's.

It didn’t help that he had studied it his entire life. In many ways, it made it worse.

“Retrograde amnesia”, he said and for a long while that’s all he said.

She knew he would have questions soon. She had been through this more times than she could herself ever remember. She had learned to be patient. She did not usually leave him alone at all but she literally stepped out for a few minutes. He usually slept much later than this.

"Do you want to talk, Charlie?"

She knew he was always quick to put together that he had amnesia. She had shaken out of him many times why he was hesitant to ask questions.

He admitted that he had thought about this often through the years. He knew what tore up loved ones the most was watching as the patient came out of the dementia time and time again. They were powerless. They were forced to answer the same questions over and over.

Therefore, he had vowed that if he ever found himself as they were, he would do his damnedest to not be like his patients had been. The last thing he wanted to burden his wife with was questions that he probably had asked a million times before

But she always refused to cooperate. "Ask me anything you want. You want to hear all about the kids, don't you?"

"Yes", he said, tears coming so easily as he feared what he might learn.

"They are all fine. Rebecca is married and you have two beautiful grandchildren. Their names are Robert and Charles, named after you of course. They were here just yesterday and they love you so."

He muffled a cry.

"Don't hold back", she said to him. And he didn't. He cried like a tiny little baby into the cushion of a couch in his own home that he had never seen before.

"Megan is doing exactly what she wants to do. She is a writer just like she always wanted to be and spends most of her time traveling. She visits you whenever she can."

He could barely contain himself. He was so happy for them but so sad for everything he had missed.

"Lawrence has had better days but he has also had a lot worse. You know he was always a very sensitive one.

"You warned him so many times about how drinking had been such a problem for you and how these things were genetic but he's his own person and we did the best we could. He's fine now, maybe, but he was into some pretty serious drugs for a long time and he did some bad things while he was on it. He was in prison for a little while and even though he struggles everyday still, he's made it his life to help young people.

"He tells everyone what an inspiration you are. He tells you all the time, too."

He cries and she lets him. She has done this so many times she knows he needs time to accept it. When the time is right, she tells him, "Charlie, Lawrence is here. He lives with us. He's upstairs right now. I'll go get him and tell him he needs you."

Lawrence was at his side in what seemed like a heartbeat. He took his father's hand which surprised them both because although Charlie was very affectionate, Lawrence was the least of the three kids to reciprocate. Lawrence kneeled in front of his father.

"Dad, I'm here, buddy."

"The question is, where have I been all these years, right?" Charlie laughed through the tears. "You're all grown up. What happened to my little guy?"

Charlie wanted to tell him what he had just learned from his wife, but he still tried very hard to act normal and not risk repeating himself like he probably did every time he had these moments of clarity. Just as his mom had done, Lawrence understood what was going through his mind.

"Say whatever you want, dad. You're surprised to learn about some of the things I did. But I'm good, dad. I'm really good now. I feel great and I even have enough money to get my own place but Mom likes having me here and I like being around you, Dad."

As silence washed over them, as it often did, they all just sat together, enjoying the moment. It wasn't uncomfortable in the least. It was comfort itself. It was family. It was love. The silence was only broken when the magic spell that had been cast over the morning itself was broken.

Charlie looked at his wife's face and then Lawrence's face and then back to his wife's. A look of confusion furrowed his brow. He then said those words his family had heard so often these past many years.

"I'm sure I know you people but can you please tell me your names again?"

In the kitchen, just the two of them, Lawrence begged his mother. "You can't keep doing this, mom. He needs more help than you can give him and it's just going to get worse."

She said what she always said. "You're right. But, he's not the only victim in all this. What do you think it's like losing your husband only to have him return for just an hour, every few days, if I'm lucky?"

Lawrence understood because he felt the same way.

"If I'm not with him when he snaps out of it, he'll be alone. He won't understand."

Lawrence knew what that really meant.

"Someone could tell him. They could tell him and what good would that do for him to know. We already lost Megan. Hasn't this family had enough pain?"

As Lawrence held his sobbing mother in his arms, he could see the magnet on the refrigerator. It was a picture of all five of them, like they were before the drinking got out of control, before the accident. Before they were all broken.