ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 149: Proposal and Prophecy

I go back to the Letter of Proposal Ernie wrote me so many years ago — soon after we met. Near the end of this letter he said: If you don’t know about me, then it is no good.

He gave me clues.

He took me to a brick-walled garden and gave me a brass key to its rustic door. He bought me a copy of The Secret Garden, the book he most identified with as a child. And I didn’t know him.

He told me stories about his school years, his girlfriends, his two wives, his work, his alcoholism, his five years in A.A. And still I didn’t know him.

He told Ben’s story in Summer Afternoons, Bryan’s story in The Thoroughbreds, Canyon and Rock’s story in Missing Faces, Jacob’s story in Jacob and his Friends, the story of the Finch cousins and of Crinklestitch Cricket — all these stories containing large chunks of him — and still I didn’t know him.

Late in our marriage he published his memoir, sixteen chapters that take him from a young boy to high-school graduate. Still, I didn’t know him.

In person, Ernie could be hidden. He could also be blunt. He could speak his truth yet often chose not to. He knew he was often scared and confused and atremble, yet he also knew I didn’t want to hear of his fears; his fears scared me. I needed him to be fearless. I needed him to always know what to do. I needed him to tell me what to do.

He grew more and more scared. And angrier.

Came the coronary blockage. Came the bladder tumors. Came the colon tumor. Came the gangrenous gall bladder. Came other bladder tumors. He was miserable, and his life ended miserably.

If you don’t know about me, then it is no good.