The Dreams Are Vivid
***
My older brother, who is younger than I, sat across the room and spoke meekly, “Can I have a coke?”
“What kind,” I say, “You want a regular coke?”
“Yeah, just Coke.”
I dug change from the bottom of my purse where it spilled from my wallet the day before when I paid the parking fee. I left to fetch his drink, and vaguely recalled the drinks were sixty cents and that I could get a root beer for myself. The machines at work never had root beer. The drinks were cold, my hand numbing from the long walk.
“Well, I need ice,” he said, sitting across the room, staring hard at me.
“You need ice,” I said to the wall. I poured the water from the plastic hospital pitcher that couldn’t keep snow cold outside in winter, rinsed his cup while I was at it, and then headed back down the hall for ice.
I carried plenty of cash in my purse; hadn’t done that in years, not since we cut back on eating out, and not since we started using the cash card for everything in order to record our expenses. Cash always spent too easy, but it was mostly singles for parking and cokes, or an occasional bite to eat for myself.

***
You lay frightened in the bed, barely lucid, eyes staring wide. I never wanted to be strong. I wanted to crumble and fall. I’ve been weary, tired of dealing and coping with the hardships of life, but I rose, stiff from sitting, knees drawn close by aching arms, and I went to you, wondering what you must be thinking…

***
There’s a lady beside my bed, smiling calmly. I think I know her. Yes, yes, I do know her. “You’re shirt’s purple”. No, that isn’t what I meant at all.
“Yep, that’s right,” she says. She smiles pretty, with her eyes and with her lips. She looks happy. She grins funny, with her teeth, stretching her mouth wide, and I grin back. Her shirt’s my favorite color.
“You’re my sister. You’re a girl.”
“Right again, buddy boy. How you doin’ there, huh?”
“You want some coke?” the man asks. I forgot that he was there beside me and I have to think hard. It’s important that I remember him, “You’re my father, right?”
The lady answers for him and I look at her face again, “Coke?”
“Here ya go,” the mans says, and I watch the lady smile while my mouth tries to find the straw.

***
You lay frightened in the bed, barely lucid, eyes staring wide. I came upon you once, screaming to the empty room.

***
I sat in a corner watching you, but mostly stood, leaning on the bed rail, holding your hand. Your brow and nose shone with weeks of neglect and I washed my hands again. Looking in the mirror, feeling guilty, I wet a washcloth and patted and stroked your face. The hospice nurse said you already knew, but it was good to say aloud. And while Daddy watched you, I knew his words wouldn’t come. I talked close and spoke so soft, I wondered if you could hear me at all through your staring gaze. I told you that the doctor wanted to stop dialysis, that it wasn’t working, that without it, your kidney would fail and without your kidney, your heart would stop. I asked you if you understood and saw the tears roll from your dull, flat eyes. I gave you what I could and told you not to worry, that I would take care of everyone. I tried. I recalled a few days previous when you looked at me with all the wonder and delight of a child, and you knew me in a way. But I didn’t know it was already too late then and I grew tired and exhausted and knew I needed to sleep, “Don’t wait for me Bubba, okay?…you go when you need to go.” I said and touched your hand. I was hesitant to leave you, but I slept deeply. The phone rang and I didn’t need to know. You left early that next morning. I looked at my husband and he at me and hung up the phone. I turned, sleeping longer and deeper. Daddy would be home and we would both need coffee. I had done what I could and it was his turn.

***
I sometimes wonder if you’re on that beach I gave you. Warm sand, warm sun, cool breezes, and clear blue ocean. A peaceful place, the only one I had to share. I visit in my dreams now and then, but I never see you.