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“Charlie can’t hear you.”ĭootsie cupped her hands around her mouth, and before I could stop her she bellowed full into his face, “CAN? YOU? HEAR? ME?” I pointed to my ear and enunciated as clearly as I could, “Can you hear?” I stepped in front of him and waited for him to look up at me. At first I thought it was cute, answering the little girl’s number question with fingers then something else occurred to me. “So, Charlie, how old are you today?”Ĭharlie showed her with fingers.
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Still he had not cracked a smile, but his eyes were different now, they were here.ĭootsie propped herself in front of him. She yelped, “Yes!” and jumped up and down and twirled around and sprinted twice around the tombstone and handed the mister back to him. Droplets glistened like dew on the freckled white meadow of hair. Want me to spray you?” She took his non-reply for a yes. “You spray it on yourself to keep cool in the hot weather.”ĭootsie shook the plastic bottle. She grabbed it and tore off the paper and ripped open the box. Dootsie didn’t wait very long before saying, “Aren’tcha gonna open it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. When Charlie failed to take the gift, Dootsie laid it in his lap. I just stood there like a dunce while Dootsie took over. “I-” I didn’t have a clue what to say.Īll of a sudden Dootsie snatched the gift from me, thrust it out to him, and piped, “Happy birthday, Charlie!” There was a thready logo above the pocket of his white shirt. His wrists were thick as hoagie rolls, his arms blotchy and red and white-haired from the summer’s sun.
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His eyes, out from under the shade of the cap brim, were looking at us from another place. For the first time I was fully seeing the face that Grace had lived with. You idiot! You busybody! Get out! Leave the man in peace! Run! And I might have, had he not suddenly turned his head and looked up at us. No doubt he was reliving a happy moment with Grace or maybe having a conversation with her. When I finally dared to look directly at his face, I discovered to my horror that he was faintly smiling. Dootsie’s tiny hand was wrapped around my finger. Still, he didn’t seem to know we were there. He had already leaped-it was just taking him longer to fall. In his own way, he was echoing the legend of the Lenape girl.
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No magazine, no book, no portable radio or TV, no headphones-nothing else to “do,” nothing else to help him pass the time. For the first time it struck me that that was all.
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The red and yellow plaid scarf was draped across his thigh. The old black lunch pail sat in the grass. His shins were almost as white as his socks. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt, black pants and shoes, white socks. I also kept hearing Perry’s voice: Who do you think you are?Īs always, he sat in the aluminum chair with green and white strapping. I kept telling myself: He accepted your donuts. If Dootsie hadn’t been there, I think I would have turned and run. If he could see us out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t show it. “And I’m not gonna say a word.” To prove it, she locked her lips and threw away the key. As Dootsie climbed from her cart, I knelt in front of her, held her by the shoulders, and looked her in the eye. Usually I rode my bike into the cemetery. Dootsie was to stand by me and not say a word. I was simply going to give him the gift and maybe say a brief something, and then we would go. I told her that we must respect his feelings and not bother him. I told her that Charlie was sad because he missed his wife, and he came here every day. Along the way I tried to explain the situation as best I could. “Okay,” I said, and before she stopped squealing, I had the new cart hitched up and we were rolling.
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