Chapter 6 - Everybody Deserves a Ride Home
Walter had suffered a cardiac arrhythmia.
Serious.
Treatable.
But frightening enough that his son had taken him to Raleigh, where he worked at a hospital and could stay close.
David learned this from Walter himself after finally reaching him Saturday afternoon.
“I am fine.”
“You're in a hospital.”
“Those things are not mutually exclusive.”
“You collapsed.”
“I sat down unexpectedly.”
“You lost consciousness.”
“Briefly.”
David closed his eyes.
“You are impossible.”
Walter laughed.
“Rose used to say that.”
Madison sat beside David on the couch, listening to one side of the conversation.
“Can I talk?”
David handed her the phone.
“Mr. Brooks?”
Walter's voice softened enough that David could hear it through the speaker.
“Hey, troublemaker.”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because people are allowed to get sick without holding a press conference.”
“I was worried.”
Silence.
Then Walter said:
“I'm sorry.”
“When are you coming home?”
“Couple days.”
“Promise?”
“I'll do my best.”
“No. Promise.”
Walter laughed.
“Your mother know you're this bossy?”
Caroline called from across the room:
“She absolutely does.”
When Walter returned to Charlotte four days later, David drove to Raleigh to get him.
Walter protested.
His son could drive.
David ignored him.
The trip back took two and a half hours because traffic stalled near Greensboro.
For the first forty minutes they talked about ordinary things.
Football.
School buses.
Madison.
Then David asked:
“Were you scared?”
Walter stared through the windshield.
“Yes.”
It was the first time David heard him answer directly.
“Why didn't you call anyone?”
“I called my son.”
“You know what I mean.”
Walter sighed.
“David.”
“You spent Thanksgiving alone because you didn't want to bother people. Then you collapse and don't tell anyone because you don't want to bother people.”
Walter looked at him.
“You always this annoying?”
“Apparently.”
Walter smiled.
Then grew quiet.
“When Rose died, I got used to handling things myself.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
“You don't act like it.”
Walter looked through the window.
Trees passed in winter colors.
“I spent forty-two years waking up beside somebody.”
His voice dropped.
“First week after she died, I kept making two cups of coffee.”
David said nothing.
“You want to know the stupid part?”
“What?”
“It wasn't the big things that got me.”
Walter rubbed his thumb against the seat belt.
“I knew Thanksgiving would hurt. Christmas. Her birthday. I expected those.”
He swallowed.
“But grocery shopping?”
David looked at him.
“First time I bought milk after she died, I stood in the aisle for ten minutes because I couldn't remember which kind I liked.”
He laughed weakly.
“She always bought it.”
David's throat tightened.
“So yeah,” Walter said. “I got used to keeping things quiet.”
David stared at the highway.
“Madison won't allow that.”
“She's terrifying.”
“She gets it from Caroline.”
“I heard that,” David imagined his wife saying.
Both men laughed.
After a while David said:
“You know what I remember most about that night?”
Walter turned.
“Not the ride.”
“What then?”
“You didn't ask me to stop crying.”
Walter's expression changed.
“You didn't try to cheer me up. You didn't tell me everything happened for a reason.”
“Never believed that.”
“You just drove.”
Walter nodded.
“Sometimes that's the job.”
David smiled.
“Everybody deserves a ride home?”
Walter looked sharply at him.
“You remember that?”
“Not until Thanksgiving.”
Walter leaned back.
“My dad used to say it.”
David waited.
“He drove a city bus,” Walter explained. “Thirty-one years.”
“So that's where you got it.”
“Probably.”
Walter smiled.
“He meant it literally. Mostly.”
“And you?”
“I think people spend half their lives trying to get home somehow.”
David absorbed that.
No polished speech.
Just an old bus driver's philosophy.
Yet it sat heavier than most books David had read.
They reached Walter's house at dusk.
Madison was waiting on the porch.
She ran toward the car before David had fully parked.
Walter stepped out.
Madison hugged him.
“You're not allowed to disappear again.”
Walter laughed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Caroline stood behind her holding a casserole.
Walter saw it.
“No.”
Caroline smiled.
“You don't even know what it is.”
“Food.”
“Yes.”
“I have food.”
“Now you have more.”
Walter sighed dramatically.
“This family is exhausting.”
“Get used to it,” Madison said.
He looked at her.
May you like
Something softened in his face.
“I think I already am.”
