Keeping it all under control

Margie was more confused than usual today. Her hair looked a bit disheveled, and it took us half an hour to get out the door. She was worried she would forget her keys, though I helped her check several times: in her pocket. Did I think she should take gloves? A scarf? Tissues? Were these the right shoes? By the time we left the apartment she was tired, though she insisted on going out. 

At the coffee shop her social intuition was still sharp. “You seem a little sad. Has something happened?” 

I told her about Malcolm, and she listened with tenderness, nodding her head. “He sounds like a wonderful person. I’m sorry his partner died.” I told her it was Malcolm who died. He didn’t have a partner. 

“That you know of,” she said sagely. I laughed. Yes, that I know of. She added, “Sometimes a person’s partner dies and the family is secretive. Death can be a private matter. He will miss her.” 

Letting that go, I told her Malcolm’s children are arriving, and they’re going to take his ashes to the ocean. “What ashes?” The ashes of his body, I explained. He’s being cremated. She looked more confused. “Was he a smoker?” No, I said, and realized the bit about his ashes was still not clear to her, so I let it go and asked what she would like to talk about.

“Well, speaking of someone’s death, I always think of my brother. A beautiful person.” You loved him very much. “Oh yes, I adored him.” That’s when I snapped this photo. How many years between the two of you, I asked. “Oh, I can’t tell you. Eleven? Twelve? No, I think he was fifteen when I was five, but I could have that mixed up. I think he was 21 when he died. A beautiful person.” 

Walking home from the coffee shop, she said, “I think I’ve had too much caffeine, so I don’t know the way home.” I said not to worry, I know the way. She still looked worried. “Do I have my keys?” In your pocket. She patted her pocket. “It’s hard to keep it all under control.” Yes, I said, yes. There’s so much to remember.