Time to Go

by Greg Ashe

           Uncle Mike!  Uncle Mike! Are you awake?  Oh good.  It’s Danny, your favorite nephew. Ha-ha. I hear you had a stroke. You’d never know it though, you look great! You’ll do anything to get out of work, won’t you, you old faker.  You might have the doctors fooled, but I know it would take more than a stroke to get you down.
           Don’t worry, there’s no hurry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. You don’t have to keep your eyes open if it wears you out.  Here, let me hold your hand. Oh yeah, you’ve still got a grip on you.   Remember when I was a little kid, and you’d let me squeeze your hand as hard as I could?  Man, I never could hurt you!
           I like your room. Did you know you have a window that looks out on a patio? When you get better you can sit out there on sunny days.  You lucky dog! I opened it a little while ago to let some fresh air in.  It’s a beautiful night. You sure do have a lot of monitors hooked up to you.  You look like the bionic man.
            Nobody knows I’m here, Uncle Mike.  I didn’t tell anyone I was coming to Kansas. I’ll bet you thought I was still back in California, didn’t you; everybody thinks that. The nurses don’t know I’m here either. I sort of snuck in. I timed their visits to your room, so we’ll be alone for another twenty minutes.
            Oops! You’re kind of drooling there big guy, let me get a Kleenex and catch that for you!  See, you don’t have to talk to get your needs met; not as long as I’m here! You took care of me when I was little, right? Oh yeah, I remember. You’re my big Uncle Mike.  It’s kind of funny that I’m sitting here taking care of you now, isn’t it? 
            I was wondering if you remember when I was eight and you were home on leave from the Marines? You came to visit us in Los Angeles where we lived right after leaving Kansas?  Memory’s a funny thing, isn’t it Uncle Mike.  Now, that I’ve turned sixty, I keep forgetting things. Just last week I tried making a list of my ten most favorite movies, and by time I’d get to number five I’d forget number one! I just couldn’t hold a thought! Does that happen to you?
            There is one memory I’ve had every day for the last fifty-two years, though, every day, just clear as a bell.  It’s about when you came to visit that time. Do you remember what you did?  I’ll bet you forgot all about it in no time at all; but I haven’t forgotten. Every time something really good starts to happen to me, I remember what you did to me, and I wreck it. I’ve never held a job for more than six months, and I’ve been married five times.
            Dad and Mom--your own sister--had to go to a business meeting and left you to watch me.  Now do you remember?  You made me take my clothes off, and you hurt me? I cried and cried, but you wouldn’t stop! You just laughed and called me a sissy! You said if I told anyone, you’d say what a dirty little boy I was! I never told anyone, Uncle Mike, and I’ve lived with that memory all these years.  I’ve been ashamed every day of my life since that night.
            Oh, you’re crying?  Let me wipe your eyes for you. We still have ten minutes before the nurse comes in.  I feel your grip, big guy. You sure have a hold on my hand now, don’t you?
            Just look at your nose; it’s running pretty bad.  Here, let me pinch your nostrils for you. And I’ll put this washrag over your mouth so you won’t drool all over your gown! Man! your eyes look wild. Don’t worry Uncle Mike, it won’t take long. And then I’ll step out of your nice window and just slip away. Will you miss me, Uncle Mike?
            I’ve wanted to see you like this for fifty-two years.