Dementia

Dementia

  Nelson Lynch

  Copyright 2011 Nelson Lynch

  “Have you started your writing assignment? You know you really don't have too much time.” My wife stood with her hand on the door knob. “What is the key word for this Saturday's meeting?”

  I leaned back from the computer and rubbed at the stubble on my chin. I did a few more things to gain time to remember the key word. What in the hell is that word? Yesterday it was all I could think of.

  “You've forgotten, haven't you? I'm beginning to worry about you. If your memory gets any worse, I'm going to get you an appointment to see a doctor specializing in memory loss.”

  “There's nothing wrong with me. My mind is sound as a dollar. The key word is something to do with October.” Why is she staring at me? Do I need a shave?

  “Just look at yourself. Your socks are mismatched. Your shirt is buttoned wrong and you're wearing a pair of my jeans. Really, what's with you? Yesterday you were looking for a pro football game in the morning. There's never a game at that time or on a Tuesday.”

  I looked at the jeans. “I can't help if we are the same size and they were also in my bureau.” I stopped a moment running memories through my mind. “My first grade teacher was Mrs. Warren.” I grinned at her. “How's those apples?”

  My wife waved her hand in dismissal as if what I had said was absolute trash.

  “I have to run to the drug store for a few items.” Her brow formed brief creases. “I'm going to give you a real easy test. Anybody with any memory at all can pass it in flying colors.”

  “Whoa! I don't need a stupid test. My memory is perfect.” What is wrong with her? Why is she still staring at me?

  My wife was shaking her head and giving me a brief smile at the same time. “Just remember these three words. Baseball, umbrella and elephant. Do you have them locked in your memory bank? Baseball, umbrella and elephant.” She opened the door. “I'll be back in ten minutes.”

  Hell, that an easy test. Anybody can remember three words. Baseball, umbrella, elephant. I can remember them a year from now. Now what is the key word for our Saturday meeting? I think it had something to do with October. I'll write about turkeys and Thanksgiving. That should catch whatever the key word is.

  I had my mind locked on the cursor blinking on the blank screen. My fingers were poised over the keyboard. I was ready to start when my wife walked into the room. Why was she back so soon. She said ten minutes. I smiled at her. I was ready. My mind was clear and alert. I could recite the Gettysburg Address.

  My wife nodded and kept on walking into the kitchen. I heard her open the refrigerator door. I waited.

  “Darling, what happened to my Mound candy bar? I have a serious yen for chocolate and coconut.”

  Her Mound candy bar! Who the hell cares about a dumb candy bar? Ask the question.

  She walked past our computer area on her way to the stairs. “I think I have a few bars in one of my bureau drawers.” She was at the top of the stairs when she yelled. “Have you started your assignment? I ran into one of your fellow writers at the drug store. They love your stories.”

  Ask the question, dammit. I don't give a damn about your trip to the drug store. Hurry up, I'm ready.

  She came down the stairs and back into the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened.

  “I found three Mounds. I put two in the refrigerator. One for you and one for me. Please don't eat mine. Now to eat the third bar.” A few seconds later she stepped into the computer area. She bit half of the Mound bar and began to chew. “Um, now that is a delicious candy bar. Rich chocolate and sweet tender coconut. Nothing could be better on a nice sunny afternoon.”

  I shut my eyes tightly. Ask the question. Come on, ask the damn question.

  “What else am I suppose to do?” She glanced at her computer on the opposite wall. “I have a few e-mails to write. I have to confirm our going out to dinner this weekend with the Robinsons.”

  I typed Ask, Ask, Ask on the computer.

  She clicked on the screen a few times bringing up Outlook Express. “How about five O'clock at the Bloody Bucket? We'll be in plenty of time for happy hour.”

  I nodded and smiled for the first time. “I could stand a nice cold dark India Ale. I think I'll have it with a nice deep fried oyster pancake.”

  His wife paused a moment. “You mean an oyster fritter, don't you?”

  “Isn't that what I said? My mind was wool gathering. Yes, I want an oyster fritter.”

  She resumed typing slowly an e-mail. “What did you do while I was at the drug store? Did you remember any more of your old elementary school teachers?”

  I looked at the Ask, Ask, Ask on my screen. “I was running different things to write for my writers meeting. I'm going to write about turkeys and Thanksgiving. Those are the key words for Saturday's meeting.”

  She stopped typing. “By the way, what are those three words?”

  My mind went into overdrive. The old song, Three Little Words' flooded my mind. My mind jumped to the Three Musketeers. Three strikes and you're out. Larry, Moe and Curley. Shadrack, Meshack and Abednego.

  My wife had swung around in her swivel chair. “You've forgotten the three words, haven't you?”

  I shook my head. “Give me some time. They are right on the tip of my tongue.” Three Wise Men. Three Blind Mice. Three Days in May. Three Days of the Condor.

  My wife was shaking her head. “You have really forgotten. You are farther along than I thought. I'll call the doctor today for an appointment.”

  “No, no, I got it.” Three Little Pigs. Scarecrow, Tinman and the Lion. Stalin, Churchill and Roosevelt.

  She swung back facing her computer. “Forget it. It was just a little test. Nothing to worry about. I'm sure the doctor can give you a pill to improve your memory.”

  “I don't want to see any doctor and I certainly don't want a pill to improve my memory. The pill is probably a chemical lobotomy.” Why is my computer blinking? Someone is chatting to me. B,a,s,e,b,a,l,l. It's the first word, you fool.

  “Baseball! Baseball is the first word.” I slapped the desk for emphasis. “I knew the words all along. It just takes me time to bring them back.” I kept my eyes glued to the screen. I tapped it on the side lightly.

  “All right. You have one-third of the words. That certainly is not a passing grade. What is the second word? You have five seconds.”

  Come on. What is the second word? I need it right now. The cursor blinked twice and began forming letters. U,m,b,r,e,l,l,a. This is the second word. Can't you remember anything?

  “Umbrella! It's the second word. How do you like that? My mind is getting sharper all the time.” I tapped the monitor very lightly. Come on, don't quit on me now. What is the third word?

  My wife echoed my thoughts. “You are doing better than I figured you would even if you are slow in answering.” She swung half way around in her seat. “Let's see if you can be a little faster on the third word. Do you have it ready in that sharp mind of yours?”

  I had my eyes fastened onto the screen. I jiggled the space bar. I hit enter. Only a second had gone by and I was on the verge of screaming. Third word please. Please with sugar on it. I need the word now.

  E,l.e,p,h,a,n,t. You owe me. Don't forget.

  I pushed back as the screen went dark. “Elephant. That's the third word.” I swiveled around and faced my wife. “It just took a little time. I was thinking too hard. I always did poor on verbal tests.” Why is she still staring at me? I got the damn words, didn't I? What more does she want?

  “How did you do that? I could have sworn you had forgotten the words.”

  “Nothing to it.” I turned back and faced the screen. “Don't bother me. I've got to do the story for October's meeting. I have this idea about turkeys a
nd the Pilgrims.”

  “Go ahead. I'm done in here. I'm going to finish the book I started.”

  I waited until she left the room before I hit the first key. All right. Who is it chatting with me? I hit enter and leaned back. I did remember it saying I owed somebody something.

  The cursor blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then made three circles on the screen. It stopped dead center and began. I'm one of your long lost relatives who has come to help you. My name is Chasity Goodwoman.

  I chatted with her for ten minutes and then she said she had another appointment. A relative in Romania needed help. She signed off using Bye for now.

  I stared at all the communication on the screen. She must have written twenty lines. I knew something was rotten in Denmark. I didn't have any Goodwoman relatives and I certainly didn't have any in Romania.”

  I did a search for Chasity Goodwoman using Google and Bing. Both said the same thing. An evil witch had been hung in early colonial Worcester County. She was rumored to trade whiskey to the Indians for oysters. She was also supposedly seen dancing naked as a jaybird in the full moonlight on All Hollows Eve with seven demons.

  The screen went totally black. A five sided star appeared. Why are you searching for me? What do you want to know?

  I waited for the cursor to calm down before answering her. Why didn't you tell me you have been dead for nearly 400 years? I thought you were on-line with me and living in Ironshire.

  Witches appeared on the screen. One flew back and forth on a broomstick. Another was stirring a huge boiling pot. Smoke and bubbles rose and disappeared. In the lower right corner, a witch dangled from a long rope. Whatever gave you that idea?

  This woman is crazy as a loon. Nobody in their right mind believes in ghosts and witches any more. I wonder what she really wants. You helped me with the three words even though I had them ready in the back of my mind. But, I'll help you. What do you want since you said I owed you something.

  A shrill laugh echoed and a series of E's ran across the screen. I need your wife's body. Take her to Ironshire on Halloween Eve and I'll do the rest.

  “Who are you chatting with dear?”

  My wife was leaning over my shoulder reading the huge white words on the black screen. Before I could think of an answer, I turned in the opposite direction. A big man in a white coat was leaning over my other shoulder.

  “What do you think, Doctor? What illness does my husband have?”

  “I don't see many of these cases. But I'm pretty sure it's a classic case of Taylorville Writers Dementia.”

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