Author’s note – In Chapter 1, Kimme is asked by her father to accompany him to his 50th high school reunion. After resisting due to her strained relationship with him, she agrees, knowing he needs her help. She travels from her home in Santa Barbara to Miami to meet him and spends the night in his luxurious condo on the seashore, and sees his worsened condition. They limo to the Miami airport the next morning to start the trip to Ionia, MI, her dad’s hometown, where the reunion is being held.
The airline employee, Todd S. according to his name badge, said, “Hello Mr. Moore, my name’s Todd. I’m happy to take you through security and to your gate whenever you’re ready.”
“My daughter is traveling with me. She’ll take care of that. Thank you,” he said and handed the young man a twenty-dollar bill.
“Thank you, sir. You’re flying out of gate B37 and security section E is the most convenient. You can leave the chair at the gate and we’ll retrieve it, Miss.”
Kimme knew this was why she was here, to push him around in a wheelchair. She was sure it was easier for him to stomach the disgrace by having her do it instead of someone else. Was this asking too much of her, though, to help him when she knew he genuinely needed it?
He took a seat in the chair and Kimme guided him into the terminal, through security and to their gate, where he climbed out and into a seat in the boarding area.
“So Dad, how far can you go without the chair now?”
“It’s not a matter of how far, it’s how fast. I don’t use one at all at home, and since I retired last year, the walking has been mostly around my condo. My limo takes me everywhere I need to go.”
“But no more salsa dancing, huh?” Kimme said with her first smile that day.
His eyes traveled away from her as he replied, “Nope. No dancing. Just me in my condo most days.”
Boarding was called and since they were in first class, they boarded early. Kimme followed him closely from behind down the jetway. He made it on his own, but she noticed how he shuffled, his shoes rubbing on the carpeted walkway. As he entered the plane, he kept a hand on the doorway, the interior walls and then the seats until he reached 5D and sat. Kimme took her seat, 5F, next to him on the window, and they settled in.
“How’s retirement? Honestly, I didn’t think you would ever stop working because I just didn’t see you as one to recreate 100% of the time.”
“It’s OK, I’m doing ok.”
“How are you spending your time?”
“Well, I’m reading a lot, I get out to dinner and drop by my office every couple weeks. They still have some investments that I’m involved in and on the board of. I stay in touch with those.”
“What about socially? Do they do anything in your building regularly so you can hang out with your neighbors?”
“Kimme, my neighbors all own three or four homes and they’re only here sporadically. When they are here, we aren’t getting together on Tuesdays to play bingo. They’re rich and they’re busy and they’re cordial but they’re not looking to fill in their social agendas; they’re already full.”
“Do you have friends in the city that you see?”
“Why are you suddenly interested?”
Kimme didn’t know the answer to this. She never asked him about his life, because in the past he always gave her the rundown of his wonderful existence, even though she didn’t ask and didn’t care. Something about seeing him this way made her ask.
“Because it sounds like you have a pretty lonely existence now, Dad.”
“I said I’m doing OK, alright?”
Kimme figured it was time to drop it. This wasn’t her concern anyway. She was just a valet for a few days and then would head back home. For the rest of the flight, they both mostly read from their tablets and were silent. When their flight touched down in Grand Rapids, the process reversed with the airline having sent a wheelchair and a porter into the jetway, the latter of which he declined in favor of his daughter. She pushed him through the terminal traffic until they reached baggage claim, where she saw a limo driver holding up a sign that said “James Moore”.
The ride was short to Ionia, just over an hour, and they checked into their rooms at the Union Hill Bed & Breakfast around 3:00 that afternoon. They decided to rest in their rooms for a while and meet for dinner at 6:00. A few minutes before 6:00, though, he called and sounded like he had just woken up. “Is it ok with you if you just run out and get us something we can eat here, baby? I’m feeling a little worn out from the travel.”
“Sure Dad, I’ll see what’s around and bring something back. Are you OK?”
“That’s fine. Thanks, little girl.”
Kimme fetched their food, walked back to the B&B, and knocked on his door. As she waited, she wondered how it could take someone this long to make it to the door in these little rooms. Finally, he appeared. “Thanks, Kimme. I’ll see you in the morning. Just text me when you are up and ready for breakfast.”
It was too early to call it a night so after Kimme ate she left the B&B on foot to explore the city. She hadn’t been to Ionia since her grandmother passed away almost eighteen years ago, and the town had changed a lot. Like many small towns, Wal-Mart had invaded and changed the fabric of the city. Many of the little stores had closed, and Main Street was now a collection of boarded-up shops and coffee shops, bars, and banks, all businesses Wal-Mart hadn’t yet chosen to ruin. The street were spruced up with decorative lights and a chiminea on one corner, and the courthouse had been given a facelift, at least from what Kimme could remember. She passed the courthouse and turned south, and six blocks later came up to the First Presbyterian Church. A sign placard advertised the Ionia High School Class of 1969 50th Reunion being held in the church tomorrow evening. It promised ‘Great food, drink and reminiscing with your old friends. No cliques, just fun!’
As she stood and read, she saw a man walking toward her. He was around the same age as her dad, but the slouch, the unkempt gray hair and beard distinguished him. When he reached the sign, he stood next to her and said, “You look a little young to be going to this, dear.”
“I’m here with my dad, he was in that class.”
“Oh, what’s his name?”
“James Moore. I’m his daughter, Kimme,” she said as she extended her hand.
He took her hand and gave a weak shake. “Hi Kimme, I’m Pete Dolan. You say your dad is Jim Moore? He said he’d be here, glad to see he made it. I wasn’t sure he would.”
“What do you mean he said he was coming, Pete? Did you talk to him lately?”
“No, we have a Facebook group for the Class of “69 that he joined about six months ago. We’re pretty active on it, you know, talking about what a pain in the butt it is gettin’ old. He mentioned the Parkinson’s. Sorry to hear about that, dear.”
“Thanks, he’s doing ok. He’s too stubborn to be limited by it.”
He laughed. “Just keep swinging, that’s all we can do. Well, Kimme, you tell him I said hello and I’ll see him tomorrow night.”
He walked away, leaving Kimme to process. Millions of people used Facebook for this reason, to reconnect with and keep in touch with old friends. Why was this news surprising? Because he was no longer part of this world, she thought. He had turned his back on it, moved on and found his people in Miami. Sure, he was born here, but that was before he changed himself with the UofM and Northwestern degrees, the years living in New York, San Francisco and Miami and the money. What was here for him now?
____________________
After breakfast the next morning, he felt strong enough to walk into town for some fresh air and coffee. As Kimme and he walked, he looked all around and saw many of the things Kimme had seen the night before, but unlike most people, he didn’t regale Kimme with stories from his youth about the crazy times, the near-misses, or the now out-of-character escapades that seeing your hometown would usually spark. He just looked and walked.
They ordered drinks at The Coffee Mill and sat and Kimme asked, “What do you want to do today?”
“Well, I arranged for a rental car to be dropped off at our hotel for the day. My doctors don’t let me drive so I’ll have to ask you to do the honors. I’d like to go visit my parents’ graves and drive by the high school. Maybe have lunch at The Saxon if it’s still there. I should probably rest this afternoon before the reunion, too.”
“Anybody you want to visit before the party, because you know sometimes you don’t get a chance to see everybody or really talk at those things. Maybe Pete Dolan?”
He suspiciously eyed her and said, “Why do I think that isn’t a random name you pulled out of the air?”
“I saw him last night when I was taking a walk. He said you had been communicating via Facebook. I was kinda surprised;”
“He’s an old friend. He used to live two doors down from me and we did a lot together. That’s it,” he said as he raised his left hand palm up.
“I get that. I was just surprised you were talking to people in Ionia again after all these years.”
He leaned back, interlaced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, “I guess it was just a way to do something social. It’s been harder at home since I retired.”
That was probably true, but she knew his Parkinson’s didn’t help, either. “Are there any retiree groups you could join, or friends in the area that you can see?”
He slowly nodded as he started saying, “You’ll learn Kimme, in about twenty-five years. When you retire, they forget about you. And when you can’t get out to see your friends, they don’t notice you’re missing because they’re busy. They’re just as busy as you aren’t.”
His voice tailed off as he talked, and she wasn’t sure if that was a symptom of the disease or something else.
He downed his cup and started to stand, saying, “Enough of that. Let’s go back and get the car. It should be there by now.”
They spent the morning visiting the sights he wanted to see, and also made a detour to the old fairgrounds. It was the one spot in town where he did share stories. He told her about the time the city offered free health checkups and his parents took him when he was about ten. The nurse had handed him a cup and directed him to the bathroom. He had figured she was thirsty so after he did his business, he got her a cup of water from the faucet and brought it back. When she looked at it, she told him it was the clearest pee she had ever seen. Kimme loved that one and laughed and laughed.
The Saxon was still open, and they stopped for lunch. Primarily a drive-up and eat in your car kind of place, the building consisted of a roof covering the drive up spots and a small interior with only four tables. The Saxon looked like something out of the 1950’s because it was. Kimme had never seen so much activity packed into such a small place. The waitresses hustled orders from and to the cars. The cooks worked feverishly to keep up, shouting back and forth over the sounds of Elvis And Little Richard. The few patrons inside stood in line, snaking around the interior, leaving a narrow path for the waitresses.
Her dad boasted the Saxon was a Michigan landmark known for the best chili cheese dogs and cheese fries in the state. As they stood scanning the menu, a man about her dad’s age joined the line right behind them.
He had the build of someone who worked for a living. He wore a camouflage shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his thick forearms, blue jeans and work boots, with an unkempt gray beard and a VFW cap. His weathered face was expressionless at first, but then Kimme saw his eyes narrow and his lips purse.
“Is that you?” he said as he looked at her dad.
Her dad turned around. “Bill. Bill Munson. Yes, it’s me,” he said without a trace of a smile.
“Well, whatta you know? Jimmy Moore, back to where it all began. Never thought I’d see you here again.” Kimme assumed jealousy of her dad was feeding the obvious sarcasm in his tone.
Her dad stood straighter to match the man’s height and looked hard into his eyes before answering. “It’s been a long time, Bill.”
“Yeah it has, it sure has, Jimmy,” he said, firmly locked in a stare with her dad. “Didn’t know if you’d make it back here for the reunion. Heard you got Parkinson’s. Is that true?”
Not just jealousy, Kimme now saw. This man’s bluntness carried more than that.
“I’m doing fine,” her dad replied.
“Not what I asked, but you answered the question. I guess the high and mighty can’t buy their way out of God’s judgment, huh?”
“Everyone gets judged eventually, Bill.” With that, her dad put his hand on Kimme’s shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”
They walked out of The Saxon and got back into the rental car before Kimme asked the obvious, “What was that about?”
“Bill Munson. We went to school together. When I went off to UofM, he stayed here since he was too stupid to get into any college. I had a girlfriend who was still in Ionia my first year in college. She didn’t like the separation, and she and Bill ended up together.”
“As in married?”
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Not quite. It was more of a one or two night stand thing, enough to break us up and give him bragging rights.”
“You never got over it? After fifty years?”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen him since then, Kimme.” His lips barely parted or moved as he spoke.
She wanted to point out the irony of it, but what was the point? He probably saw what happened then and what he did to her mother as two totally different things.
“Why’d you come here? This isn’t your life anymore. You haven’t had contact with these people for decades, and the first person you see you have bad history with.”
“I told you, I’m curious. Wouldn’t you be if you were me?” he said, turning away from her.
“Most people scratch that itch through social media, and now that I know you’re on Facebook, why isn’t that enough?”
He didn’t speak for a time, then said, “It’s not enough looking at people on some website. If that’s all I needed, I’d never leave my condo.”
Needed. The word stuck out to her.
“I understand, but if it’s curiosity you didn’t need to come here. And you live in a huge city and can go anywhere and do anything you want, see people anytime you want. I don’t get it, Dad,” she said, gripping the steering wheel a little firmer.
“As you know, I can’t ‘go’ anywhere and ‘do’ anything anymore. Someone made the decision those days are over for me.”
“Granted, but you’re sixty-eight, too. Isn’t it ok if life slows down and you spend your time doing things with friends people your age do?”
She watched him bite his lower lip, reminding her who she inherited that habit from. “What is that for someone like me? If it weren’t for this disease I could tell you, but with it, I can’t. People don’t see me as capable of doing things anymore. Sure, they text or once in a while stop by, but it’s obligation, sympathy, whatever. I don’t want it.”
Kimme looked at him but he didn’t return her glance. “I thought I’d come here and see if there was anything left, anything to build on with people who are different than the sycophants I live with. Different than me. To see if I still have some Ionia in me.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Write Brain 
Great post 😊
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