The Winner's Game(28)

“The what?” asks Cade.

“The Walrus.”

“Why?”

“Grandpa said each new driver had given it a different name over the years. It was a tradition, I guess. He and Grandma originally named it Dasher, from the ‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’ song, which was the number-one hit in 1949. My uncle Mike named it Thor when he drove it, and my mom changed the name to Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams.”

“All those other names are cool,” remarks Bree. “So why did you change it to the Walrus?”

I run my hands along the steering wheel, remembering the feel. I turn the key and the old beast roars to life. Finally I adjust the rearview mirror so Bree can see me. “It’s the name of a Beatles song. When John Lennon wrote the lyrics, he did so with the express purpose of confusing anyone who might try to find some deeper meaning in them. They’re mostly nonsensical phrases, strung together with a catchy tune.” I pause, remembering with angst the dark days of my own youth. “My mother had just passed away. I was a confused teenager trying to make sense of a confusing world, so that song really spoke to me.”

“What would you get out of a nonsensical song?” Ann asks, her tone verging on critical.

I let out a little sigh. “That…some things are just not meant to be understood, I guess. Try as you might to make sense of them, some things in life, like Lennon’s lyrics—or the passing of a mother in her prime—are beyond comprehension. Sometimes you just have to accept what you don’t understand.” I pause for another moment, and then begin softly singing as I put the car into gear and back up. “I am the eggman, they are the eggmen. I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob…”

There is an odd silence in the car as my voice drifts off. Finally Ann asks, “Do you think I can drive the car, Mom?”

Ann got her learner’s permit when she was almost sixteen, but it was just a few weeks later that her heart stopped working and she nearly died in the pool. Since then, between all of her medical procedures—and with my own hesitancy to put her in harm’s way—she hasn’t really been allowed to get behind the wheel.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I mumble.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not sure you’re ready.”

“I’m as old as you were when you drove it to high school.”

“I know, but…Ann, you’re so close to getting a new heart. You just need to hold tight until then. Then there’ll be lots of things you can do.”

Ann dismisses my comment with a look of disgust. “I am the walrus,” she mutters under her breath.

“What was that, dear?”

“Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

When we get to the care facility where Grandma Grace is staying, the misery of the day picks up steam. I’ve been telling myself for the past nine months that Grandma is dying of old age. After all, she’s lived a long time. But the truth is that nobody ever just dies of being old—something has to give. In her case, it’s her brain.

The way it was explained to me, Grandma Grace has an uncommon form of Alzheimer’s that is causing her involuntary body functions—such as the lungs breathing and the heart beating—to “forget” how to function properly. Like other Alzheimer’s patients, she also has increasingly frequent moments of dementia, but the biggest threat to her health is not that she’ll forget who or where she is but that her body will simply forget how to work and suddenly stop ticking.

When we get to her room, she doesn’t look anything like she did the last time I saw her. Her hair is all matted from lying in bed, there are tubes in her nose and all sorts of electrical leads running from machines near her bed to somewhere on her chest beneath the thin hospital robe.

At least her eyes light up when she sees us, which means she’s in one of her better mental states. For the moment.

The way she slurs when she speaks makes it hard to understand what she is saying, though she’s not doing a lot of talking. “My dear Em’ly,” she drawls, very slowly. “You came.”

“Of course we came, Grandma. We’ve missed you.”

She swallows several times before she can say, “You too.”

“Do you remember the kids? Ann, Bree, and Cade. They were so excited to come visit you.”

Grandma nods.

“Thanks for letting us stay in your home. It’s such a nice break for us to be able to come here for the summer like this. It’ll be so nice to come see you every day.”

Cade’s eyes get very wide. “Every day?” he whispers from the other side of the bed.