ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: The Writer, His Wife, and their Afterlife
Book One, Part Two, Chapter 162: Four Phone Messages
When I awaken tonight at seven, I find four messages on my answering machine.
The first one is from Kelly, my attorney in a wrongful-death lawsuit — Ernie’s urologist being the defendant. “We have the defendant’s interrogatories in hand. Please call to set up an appointment for your deposition.”
Interrogatories. Depositions. New vocabulary for me.
Ernie gave a deposition once, in his lawsuit involving a burrito manufacturer. He hated to lie, and in giving this deposition, he distorted the truth. Yes, it’s true Joshua bit into a sliver of metal while eating a burrito manufactured by this company. No, it’s not true Ernie bit into a sliver of metal while eating the burrito, and it’s not true the metal fragment damaged a tooth . . . but that’s what his lawsuit claimed. We needed money, and Ernie, in creative desperation, re-wrote the truth to get it.
Cindi, our jewel of a real-estate agent, leaves the second message. “All is in order for the house on Charles Street to close any time after this Friday.” This is good news for Joshua. He’ll be able to firm up his plans to fly in.
I use Ernie’s library card, so the third message is for him. A disembodied voice tells Ernie his book on reserve is in. I play back the message just to hear Ernie’s name again. Yes, Ernie really existed. Yes, he had a library card. He read books. I was married to him for forty years. He’s gone. He’s just now becoming real to me.
Joshua leaves the last message. “I played tennis the other day and hurt my back.”
Not the first time this has happened. At one point in his life, his back couldn’t support a sneeze. “That’s right,” he told his daddy and me. “I sneezed, and the pain was so great, it threw me to the floor.”
Joshua overextends himself on the tennis court, stretching and sliding to return nearly unreachable shots. A metaphor for his life. In his childhood, we asked too much of him, expected too much of him, so now he asks too much of himself and expects perfection.
Must we keep repeating what hurts us? Is this what Joshua has learned from Ernie and me? Yes, one of the things.
My sister Tish sent me her Al-Anon book, One Day at a Time. The January second reading says: We learn only from experience, and only by making up our minds not to repeat past mistakes.
Ernie and I reviewed thousands of horse races, trying to figure out why we didn’t pick the winner, but we didn’t review decisions we made off-track. Big mistake, not to recognize a mistake and learn from it.
No need to feel guilty, right? Guilt’s there to let me know I think I did something wrong. Guilt’s not there as a reason to flay myself. Guilt’s there to help me rescue myself.
Messages. My mind is heavy with them. Ernie, where are you? I need to talk to you. Tell me I didn’t hurt you. Tell me I’m not guilty. Lie to me.
