Caretakers (Tyler Cunningham) Read Online Free Page B

delight. This method of cooling Coke also adds a savory element to the experience, in that the rim tasted lightly of what I assumed was the finest sea-salt that rich people could buy. I drank most of the first can before it could warm in my hand, and then looked over at Mrs. Crocker ( who I would call ‘Kitty’ because she had asked, but would likely always think of, and mentally file under, Mrs. Crocker ) and said, “Thank you, that’s perfect.”
    She smiled, cocked her small head a bit, and replied, “When you take another, would you be so good as to pour me a small glass? I haven’t enjoyed anything as much as you appeared to enjoy that cola in a long time, and would like to try it. One advantage of dying is that you needn’t be afraid anymore, of anything.” This had the sound/feeling of a set phrase, and I wondered if this was an entree into her description of her problem; I prodded a bit ( as is my way ).
    “What are you dying of, and what needn’t you be afraid of anymore, Kitty?” I thought briefly of offering to share my current Coke, but got sidetracked/derailed with concerns about the social niceties of sharing my germs with Mrs. Crocker, her refusal, or worse … her grudging approval. ( It occurred to me that this sort of concern was a step along a short path to Dorothy ‘yes Ma’am-ing’ her, and wondered at how some people seem to have the ability to manipulate people just by your expecting them to be manipulators ).
    “It has been a tightly run, if dreadfully slow, race; and will likely be a photo finish. The front runners are thyroid cancer, congestive heart failure, and kidney failure; I am rooting for the heart condition to take me, in my sleep, before the summer ends and I have to leave this heavenly place.” She didn’t seem sad/upset/concerned about this prospect, so I didn’t shape my face into my ersatz version of one of those emotions. She also didn’t seem finished, so I didn’t say anything, in the hope that she would.
    “I’m no longer afraid of a great many things. My imminent demise has shaken me free of a lifetime of, not to put too fine a point on it, bullshit. Excuse my language, Tyler ( I made a gesture I’ve seen other people use, shooing away her concern ). For too long, I’ve been worried about what the people in my family, or in the camp, or around this lake, would think of my focus, my obsession, my dwelling on the past. Being able to see, to feel the end, Tyler, has given me the courage to throw all of that to the side and indulge myself, to wallow, in the problem that has brought you and I together on this glorious day.”
    I didn’t point out that she seemed to have planned it so that I would be here when most of the camp was at church ( I would bet they were at The Church of the Ascension, a pretty little rough-hewn log church at the northern end of Upper Saranac Lake built a few years before the turn of the century, if I was the type of person given to wagers ), but couldn’t see any upside to distracting/angering her at this point, when she was just getting to the point.
    “My daughter was taken from me nearly 55 years ago, on a Saturday. I had dinner with her. She had brought a new beau to camp that she was quite taken with, some of the children and my husband went for a ride in our inboard runabout, she stayed with her beau on the dock, and I was up in the boathouse, part chaperone, part cheering section; I liked that one, he was a much better choice than the others she’d brought around before.”
    “No, don’t interrupt me, Mr. Cunningham. I can see questions on your face, but wait until you’ve heard the whole thing. She went up to her cabin a few hours later, and the boy, no I simply cannot remember his name, stayed behind to swim. I can remember him swimming out to, and sometimes all the way around, Green Island, quite an athlete, but his name refuses to surface. At any rate, she went up to her cabin, took off her shoes, turned on the bathroom