104 The Meadow you’re okay. Right, Pop? I don’t have to worry about you, too. Right?” Marvin assesses his daughter. Then he outfits the words to suit the need. “I do have trouble with the computer.” Then he throws in a wink. “I mean I know I’m not a robot. You know I’m not a robot. But it can take me twenty thirty minutes between the highway signs and the boat pictures just to prove it.” “Very funny, Dad. I mean this is a lot to take in. Mom was everything. She cooked the holidays, she watched the kids. I mean who’s going to fill in? There’s a big hole. A huge hole.” Then the tears stream down. “And that input button on the TV remote. Never ever press it. Once you press input, your whole day’s shot.” She fishes a tissue from her purse and starts wiping. “You taking this act on the road?” A builder by trade, Marvin is a tinkerer by nature. He finds it helpful to keep his hands busy. So while he talks, he fidgets. First he leans back on the vinyl seat. Then he lines up the salt and peppers shakers with the little packets of sweetener. When he’s satisfied with their orderly progression, he flanks his lineup with the catsup and mustard bottles. What does he tell his daughter? Frannie, his wife of fifty-three years—his partner, his rock, his soul mate—was slipping fast. Each day a little more of her disappeared. She was always the smart one, the book club devotee, the one who pressed their kids to shoot for Ivy League schools. But now a new Frannie has taken her place. A time traveler. During breakfast she’s in the twenty-first century, getting dressed and sorting the mail. Then by lunch she’s back in high school with her family in Brooklyn. Singing more than talking now. Happier, too. “You go to the doctor’s. Right, Dad?” says Lisa. “You get checked out?”
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