Update : Serendipity
So, here is another one for you!
For earlier parts, ratings and disclaimer refer to:
Part 1: http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/13/
Part 2: http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/15/
A/N 1: I won't lie, this one was inspired to a certain extent by 'The Notebook'. I mean, only the concept...the roles are reversed and it's pretty much different in terms of storyline.So.
A/N 2: My fic is completely a fragment of my own deluded mind. The issue I deal with in the fic is a very sensitive topic for all. I do not have first hand experience of it, nor have I dealt with it as a caregiver. I ardently and sincerely hope Alzheimer's doesn't strike anybody, especially not Meryl or Don. Whatever symptoms I have mentioned are purely based on internet research, and all I could gather is that it is more frightening than you would imagine. This is dedicated to all the people suffering from it and all those angel caregivers who look after their loved ones with utmost care.
A/N 3: I hope you can appreciate the quiet power of their love through this glimpse. Please leave me some reviews,they are like gold coins-rare, precious and they make my muse rich!
Broken Memories
“Do not allow me to forget you”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Of Love and Other Demons
The wind is new, silken and fair;
Intangible it is, like what we share.
The dew is soft, so cool and wet;
Like the eternal solace from you I get.
The night is whole, mystic and clear;
Like the love for you in my heart I bear.
Today as I walk, I think of you
On the morrow, it’ll be the same too;
For it is you- who taught me right from wrong
And lent your voice to sing our song.
Upon truth, honour and humility you always stressed
And told me how simplicity was the best.
You are, my dear, that shining beacon of light
Imperishable and pristine at sight
I thank you every night and day
And pray for you in churches on my way.
And yet, yet after all these years
True you have made all my fears
“Who are you?” you ask me often
Trembling I touch you, at that you soften,
A tear from my eye falls on your toe
“Your life” I say, with my head held low.
(Excerpt from a poem I had penned down in the Jurassic Period.)
22nd June 2025
Salisbury, Connecticut
3:34 p.m.
Looking at the mess around her she wondered why she hadn’t stopped him while he hurled chairs, desks, lamps, photo frames, mirrors and vases at practically no one. Maybe, she thought it would be a solution to the problem. He had never been violent, not even in the direst of circumstances when all hell would break loose around him. Today he seemed to have needed the violent outlet, like a medicine to cure AIDS. So, Meryl gave it, knowing all too well that the medicine would fail its job just like the upturned furniture wouldn’t be enough for this condition...no, disease that was gnawing at her husband’s existence.
She cursed herself for seeing the signs and ignoring them. Offering herself false comfort, repeating time and again ‘Everything is fine. He is absolutely fine.Maybe something’s wrong with me!’
As a lone tear made its way down her cheek, her knees gave way, swaying she landed on the warm carpeted floor with a thud and wondered if it was too late. Had she lost her husband forever? She realized it would be better losing him to another woman than to this deadly disease that seemed to have claimed him: Alzheimer’s.
Exhibit A.
June 2nd 2025
She had first noticed it at the dinner party thrown by Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn on the eve of one of their grandchildren’s tenth birthday. That had been 3 weeks ago.
Don had been in the middle of a heated discussion on the present economic climate prevailing in the United States, which had undergone a paradigm change ever since the real estate asset bubble bust more than a decade ago. He had been making a point about how things had been looking up considerably because of....Meryl had noticed a fleeting wild look cross his eyes-confusion then worry then indifference...and then he had again gone back to explaining the change, he seemed to act like that child who had learnt something by rote and when his turn came up in elocution had forgotten it halfway through, so like a broken tape recorder he kept on repeating the same few lines he’d managed to hold onto. She had observed this change, waved it off nonchalantly and had provided a closure to his argument- the new government had tax policies in place and the stock market was booming.
Exhibit B.
June 5th 2025
Three days later, their kids and grandkids were over for dinner. Getting all of them in the same time zone and under the same roof was one trick Meryl had always managed to pull up her sleeve even if it involved unfair means-like emotional blackmail or delicious food. She had been in the kitchen when Don had sauntered in wearing his Ralph Lauren tuxedo and an unknotted black tie. He had looked exasperated, the complexity of the tie eluding him. He had thrown his hands up in resignation and had asked Meryl to knot it. Laughing at his predicament, she had joked while knotting the jet black tie whether all this show off was for her or his new girlfriend-his grand-daughter. Then, she had noticed it again; the sudden look of confusion.
‘Wait’-he’d said, ‘Isn’t it the SAG Lifetime Achievement thing today?’ It was Meryl’s turn to get confused as she looked into her husband’s azure eyes which had darkened in worry. She had felt a shiver run down her spine, her brows had furrowed, recovering quickly she had almost blasted him off for not listening to her carefully: ‘Do you ever listen to me! How many times have I told you since morning that the KIDS are coming? And what SAG, I’ve already got that..besides SAG’s are in January...I’m getting the NYCIFF LAA...and that’s not until next to next Sunday! Where is your mind these days?’ She had sounded mad yet anxious. Don had only looked on with a bewildered expression, then as if snapping back into time he had said ‘Oh jeez! I know, I’m sorry, this new sculpture is driving me crazy!’
Lucky for him, Meryl had believed it and dismissed him. He had then gone upstairs, fished out an old shirt and worn it casually. Only the buttons had been wrongly done. Amidst the kids, grandkids and hustle-bustle Meryl’s keen eye had missed it.
Exhibit C.
June 7th 2025
It was the Saturday following the family dinner. Don had been working in his studio on his most recent sculpture since morning and now it was almost 9:30p.m. Meryl had started to believe that her husband had been eaten up whole by his own genius sculpture, so-hungry and tired she had wandered into Don’s studio. She generally made it a point to never disturb her husband while he was working, today would be an exception because she was sure her husband would be starving as he hadn’t come up for lunch.
Walking into his spacious studio, the first thing her eyes fell upon was this giant piece of stainless steel, actually two of them, coloured in black and grey, zig zag lines running between the two tall undulating but jagged pillars-suspended in mid air by a series of irregular glass pieces-again black and grey supporting them from beneath. There was something very similar about it, yet different. It looked like Don’s work and yet not his. He always chose red, green and blue for glasses, his work was always intricate but harmonious. This one had a chaotic look about it and the colours made it look ominous almost, but not less formidable.
Don was standing on the other side of the structure and squinting at certain spot on the zig zag lines. Feeling his wife’s presence, he muttered without looking up ‘I don’t get it’
Making a hmph sound Meryl said ‘I don’t either! You haven’t eaten since breakfast? Why is that? Come inside..I’m hungry, fast!’ she had reached her husband by then, planted a fervent kiss on his cheek and was now gazing at the spot her husband seemed to be fixated on.
At that Don looked at her, gave him his signature lop sided smirk and looked back at the space ‘I painted stripes here, in here and there, they’ve started vanishing and it’s been just two days!’
At that Meryl let out her signature full throated laugh ‘Don Gummer, are you try to make fun of yourself? Water paint on painted stainless steel! Don’t you always steal my nail polish for these little details? Don’t you always tell me that nail paint is the only thing that lasts?’ with that she patted his chest and looked into his eyes. They started twinkling suddenly ‘Oh...oh, yes, of course, how silly of me’ he said almost sincerely.
‘Let’s go and have dinner.’ he said, turning away to switch off the studio lights.
This time Meryl noticed neither the haunted and wounded look in her husband’s eye nor the fact that ordinary paper instead of lead or zinc had been used to hold the pieces of glass together.(the whole piece would come tumbling down the coming Wednesday night.)
Exhibit D.
June 11th 2025
They had been getting ready for a charity benefit for Equality Now, when Don started fidgeting with the things on the dressing table. Meryl had organized it only that morning and the sight of Don disrupting the harmony had not pleased her in the least. Immediately she had asked Don what he was looking for. After a moment of quiet reverie, he had looked up to announce that he couldn’t find his ‘hand clock’. Meryl had looked at him with the bizzarest expression and had wondered why he hadn’t called it his wrist watch. Laughing at his husband’s vocabulary, which she assumed was meant to humour her for the mess he had made on the dressing table she had handed him his watch which had been safely tucked away in its usual place-the first drawer of his armoire.
However, his jibe at the English Language had continued for the rest of the night, when he had referred to: charity as ‘money for distribution’, prawns as ‘orange insects’ and champagne as ‘shining wine’.
Meryl did not want to believe what her mind had been telling her for the past few days. She thought: this too shall pass. Things are alright, they will have to be.
Exhibit E.
June 15th
Don had curbed the urge to tell Meryl about the mishap that had occurred in his studio which had probably taken place in the midnight hours of Wednesday night when they were engaged in frivolous merriment at the charity gala. His most recent work with which he had already faced too many problems seemed to be crumbling down. When he had opened up the studio mid morning on Thursday he was aghast to see his sculpture almost in shambles. The sun was streaming into the room, making the broken pieces of tainted glasses sparkle with a dazzling brilliance, enough to make someone blind.
For a moment he had forgotten how to move or breathe. He wanted to shout, scream and kill whoever did this. He realized that the last one would be tricky, because then he would have to kill himself-after all he was responsible for the sculpture’s condition. Instead, he had gone up to the sculpture and with one deft and painful (literally) stroke of his hand had dismantled it himself.
He realized he too was crumbling down like that piece which now lay scattered beside him, pieces of his broken dreams. He had sat there for the longest hour, head in hands, cursing himself for his progressive foolishness. Life seemed like a jumbled puzzle, everyday was a struggle-keeping himself from zoning out, falling out of time, saying the right things and keeping alive the feeling of love and being loved in his heart. The last part always scared him the most. He wondered how in God’s name he could forget that sacred feeling of love in his heart which made him feel safe.
He decided that he would be more awake and aware from that day forward.
Inspite of this promise, he saw himself slipping, endlessly so, into the deep churning whirlpool that was his brain.
Meryl only saw the bloodied palm of his right hand-kissed it and bandaged it. He told her it was a glass cut, which it was, indeed. The manner in which he had managed to get the wound was manipulated.
Finale.
June 22nd 2025
1:30 p.m.
Meryl had not expected this. She didn’t know what she had been expecting.
Even when Don was organizing surprise parties he always made it a point to wish her, he never pretended to forget her birthday because that would mean that he would have to forego the morning birthday kisses which were generally different from the usual morning kiss. This year to Meryl’s utmost surprise, he had apparently forgotten about birthday kisses.
Last night when the kids had wished her at twelve Don had been cleaning up the kitchen, and locking up the garage and doors. He had asked Meryl to go ahead and get changed for bed. Being almost dead on her feet after a full day of visiting, talking and feeding slum children (which had now become almost a part of her routine job description as a humanitarian) she had been more than glad when Don had offered to clean up, which she assumed was a pre birthday perk. When the calls had ended and messages had started pouring in, she had put her phone on silent and had waited for her husband to come upstairs.
Before she knew it, she saw the morning sunlight streaming in through the moss green pastel coloured translucent curtains. Apparently, she had been so tired that she had dozed off before Don had come into the room. As she turned to her right, she saw her husband lost in a dreamless sleep, a slight smile gracing his lips.
She had expected Don to make up for the missed opportunity of wishing her last night and the absence of morning birthday kisses, but when he got up, he did not fulfil either of her expectations.
She wasn’t somebody who would keep on giving subtle hints to remind somebody about her birthday. However, this wasn’t somebody; the person is question was her husband! By noon, she was almost certain he wasn’t doing pretend play. He really didn’t remember...Meryl didn’t want to be angry..but..but she was! Her birthday had never been really important for her as such. It had always been more important for the kids and Don. Now that the kids were all grown and with families of their own scattered across the whole of USA, the whole family would only meet for family holidays. Since the past 5 years Don and Meryl had celebrated each other’s birthday together, happily. They would sometimes be joined by the kids on their anniversary. The guilty truth was that they liked being just the two of them- they were old but blissful.
So, she hadn’t expected this year to be any different.
The call from Henry at 1 p.m. changed their day. He had only called up Don to tell him that he had received a call from their electricity company saying that Don had forgotten to make last month’s payment. Further, he had asked only in passé what he had planned for his mother’s birthday.
Meryl, who had been listening to the conversation while pretending to read a document on ‘Epidemiology and Prognosis: Sickle Cell Anaemia in African children’ blanched when she saw her husband suddenly go pale and then red, as if he had been the recipient of some dreadful news.
After the initial reaction, he had replied to Henry in an emotionless voice, to whatever he had asked with a ‘nothing much’ and ‘I’ll catch you later son.’ And with that he had stormed out of the living room and into the den.
Dropping her document onto the settee on whose arm she had been perched on all this while, she ran to the den. What she saw in front of her broke her heart into a million tiny pieces.
He was kneeling on the floor in front of the fireplace, clutching a photo frame-of him and her and sobbing...no crying wildly-eyes red, body shaking vigorously with the impact of his grief and tears streaming down his face which was contorted in anguish.
Running up to her husband, she embraced him and cooed soothing words into his ears while stroking his thinning white hair while he kept on crying into her chest and nodding his head sideways.
The crying only got worse, so Meryl lifted his head and looked intently into the endless pools of electric blue in which a myriad of emotions floated by.
Steadying herself she asked him ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’
Looking into his wife’s enchanting eyes, he let out a heart wrenching sob ‘Everything’s wrong Meryl. Everything. It’s not May anymore, we don’t live in New York anymore, I don’t do exhibitions anymore, we’re not young anymore-we have grandchildren now, I don’t have the eidetic memory I had-hell, I don’t even have a memory anymore. I walk around in a mist, years and days keep evading me!’
Getting up he banged his fist into the wall ‘Bloody hell! I don’t remember words in English! I’m a blithering IDIOT!I didn’t remember YOUR BIRTHDAY!’ and with that he started throwing photo frame after frame off the mantle. Like a madman he went around the room upturning everything that came his way- rather everything he decided to make his way across, shouting obscenities and banging fists into chairs and desks.
Meryl had never seen Don this way. The worst had been when he had tackled a photographer back in the 80’s when he had tried to grope Meryl inappropriately.
So, this was unexpected, to say the least.
Her initial reaction had been to stop him from such self damage. She had tried and had been brushed off roughly making her almost tumble onto the floor. After that she had fallen deadly silent, while she watched her husband perform actions he had never done before, brushing away silent tears which fell without shame.
She wanted to tell him that it was alright, that her birthday didn’t matter, that they together would make him alright, that things would fall into place. She wanted to kiss every single wound in his body and drink up all his pain and hurt.
Instead, she only sat on the floor as her husband proceeded to turn their den into a war site; from a picture of harmony to one of chaos- as if to suit his present condition.
Her eyes had been so filled to the brim with the never ending flow of tears which had made her vision hazy, that she almost didn’t notice when Don stomped out of the den murmuring ‘I need to be alone...don’t come after me, I’ll be back...please!’ She didn’t know what the please was meant for-was he asking her to save him from his wretched state or was he asking her forgiveness for forgetting her birthday- either way, she knew, it was time to face the inevitable.
June 22nd 2025
3:35 p.m.
It had almost been two hours since the nightmarish incident. After her husband had left, she had cried herself out till she couldn’t cry anymore, they would of course come back in little sobs but the worst had seemed over.
Not wasting more time than already had been wasted, she had decided not to follow her husband (like he had wished) instead, she had got onto the laptop and had searched for ‘signs for Alzheimer’s’. After seeing the white screen come up with the top 10 symptoms, she made her heart believe what her mind had told her for quite some time.
She was hurting so badly, she could only imagine what her husband must be going through. She resolved that she wouldn’t break down. Don Gummer had been the one reliable rock that she would hang onto whenever in danger, now it was her turn to be his. No,no there was no way she could fail at this one most important role in her life. They would fight this together; they would fight tooth and nail and get through this. Meryl Streep would make her life partner; lover, friend and husband Don Gummer survive Alzheimer’s.
Inspite of that, when she made her way back to the den with its upturned contents, the horror of those quick moments came back to her.
As a lone tear made its way down her cheek, her knees gave way, swaying she landed on the warm carpeted floor with a thud and wondered if it was too late. Had she lost her husband forever? She realized it would be better losing him to another woman than to this deadly disease he seemed to be a victim of. Alzheimer’s.
Meryl had respected Don’s decision of spending some time alone. However, with every passing minute she was getting more and more worried. Salisbury was the kind of place where one generally wouldn’t get lost, nor would one find a good hiding place. There wasn’t the threat of serial killers, thieves or even being run over by speeding cars. Inspite of that Meryl needed to know where Don was, especially because he had been so fragile when he left home.
She locked up the house without bothering to change into more presentable clothes. Instead of walking she decided to take her old Toyota hybrid Camry which she had had since the 2000’s. There were not too many places Don could be, he would probably be at one of their favourite haunts from olden times.
She started with that little park near St John’s Episcopal Church where they often went on Sundays. They would sit on a bottle green bench, especially during autumn when the park would be full of fallen, dried maple leaves and look at the people going for mass and then they would listen to the muffled sounds of the proceedings inside while they just sat hand in hand without a word- the silence was always sweet and soothing.
Unfortunately, he was a no show here.
So, she then decided to try her luck at the two bars he’d generally go to with his friends-no luck there as well; and then she went up to the banks of the Riga Lake where they would spend many a day, especially when she was pregnant. The cool waters and soft breeze coupled with Don’s massages and kisses would always provide a temporary respite to her burning and aching body.
Don didn’t seem to have chosen the Lake banks either. Now Meryl was getting panicked. She had tried his phone about a hundred times by now and every time it went to voicemail. She even left a voice message ‘Call me when you get this...I mean hear this..uh..please’ . She decided to try one last place. If she didn’t find him there, she would file a report with the police.
Making her way till the point she could take her car, she peered out of her car window from where she could see the beginnings of the Appalachian Trail. They would often go hiking on this trail-all of them, when the kids were young and then settle somewhere inside the trail for a comfortable family picnic. She still recalled those wonderful days vividly and with extreme fondness.
Skirting her way through shrubs and bushes, she neared the entrance of the trail. There on the left edge of it was Don, sitting on a moss covered rock looking into nowhere. She could see his dejection from there-the droop of his shoulders, the hand on his chin.
Inspite of that, a slight smile crossed her features. She would always know where to find Don.
Making her way to her husband, she could hear that he was still sobbing, eyes closed. She lifted her left hand and brushed away a tear that had dared to fall. At that he opened his eyes-blue, sad, dull and clueless.
He took her hand and kissed it fervently and motioned for her to sit down beside him; she obeyed and sat down leaning her head into his chest.
After what seemed like a million years, Don spoke. His voice came out raspy and broken ‘What will happen, Meryl?’ Meryl who had now raised her head from his chest and was gazing into his face said nothing. He looked at her and added ‘What will happen when I can’t remember anymore? When I won’t remember you or our love----our kids, our life.What then?’
Trying to sound brave, but failing miserably she said ‘It needn’t be like that. We don’t even know it for sure!’ she lied ‘and..and if you do forget..I’ll make you remember..I won’t let you forget...I’ll be there...in sickness or in health.’
‘I went to that park and sat there. Then I started for home but ended up here. I think I got lost. I forgot my way home!’
‘Rubbish! Remember how you say ‘Salisbury is too small to get lost’. I’m sure you came up here to remember our picnics.’
‘Yes those, I remember them. Once you were pregnant with Grace and I had to almost carry you all the way up. You were wearing this yellow dress I hated, but you looked so beautiful and innocent that day, radiant-carrying our love inside you. I remember that.’
‘Hmm..Me too. I still have that dress.’
Cupping her chin, and looking directly into her eyes he asked ‘Do you regret us? Ever?’
Unable to control her tears which had been betraying her for the most part of the day she could only nod her head sideways repeatedly and utter a small sounding ‘Never. Not once.’
‘Then...then, will you take me back home every time I forget my way?’
‘Yes, I’ll always find you, like I did today, even if I have to do this for the rest of my life.’
‘Meryl, whenever my thoughts go astray, whenever I lose myself, whenever I forget, always remember that I love you and even if I don’t remember I always will. You, are my life. Please, please don’t allow me to forget you.’
At that Meryl looked at her husband, held him tight in her arms, lifted them up together and said ‘Come home. I’ve got you. We’ll get through this. You know, I love you and always will. We’ll be alright.’
With the power and conviction of their love Meryl and Don left the Appalachian Trail and made their way home. The journey ahead seemed too long.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost, Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening
For earlier parts, ratings and disclaimer refer to:
Part 1: http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/13/
Part 2: http://evilangels26.livejournal.com/2013/06/15/
A/N 1: I won't lie, this one was inspired to a certain extent by 'The Notebook'. I mean, only the concept...the roles are reversed and it's pretty much different in terms of storyline.So.
A/N 2: My fic is completely a fragment of my own deluded mind. The issue I deal with in the fic is a very sensitive topic for all. I do not have first hand experience of it, nor have I dealt with it as a caregiver. I ardently and sincerely hope Alzheimer's doesn't strike anybody, especially not Meryl or Don. Whatever symptoms I have mentioned are purely based on internet research, and all I could gather is that it is more frightening than you would imagine. This is dedicated to all the people suffering from it and all those angel caregivers who look after their loved ones with utmost care.
A/N 3: I hope you can appreciate the quiet power of their love through this glimpse. Please leave me some reviews,they are like gold coins-rare, precious and they make my muse rich!
Broken Memories
“Do not allow me to forget you”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Of Love and Other Demons
The wind is new, silken and fair;
Intangible it is, like what we share.
The dew is soft, so cool and wet;
Like the eternal solace from you I get.
The night is whole, mystic and clear;
Like the love for you in my heart I bear.
Today as I walk, I think of you
On the morrow, it’ll be the same too;
For it is you- who taught me right from wrong
And lent your voice to sing our song.
Upon truth, honour and humility you always stressed
And told me how simplicity was the best.
You are, my dear, that shining beacon of light
Imperishable and pristine at sight
I thank you every night and day
And pray for you in churches on my way.
And yet, yet after all these years
True you have made all my fears
“Who are you?” you ask me often
Trembling I touch you, at that you soften,
A tear from my eye falls on your toe
“Your life” I say, with my head held low.
(Excerpt from a poem I had penned down in the Jurassic Period.)
22nd June 2025
Salisbury, Connecticut
3:34 p.m.
Looking at the mess around her she wondered why she hadn’t stopped him while he hurled chairs, desks, lamps, photo frames, mirrors and vases at practically no one. Maybe, she thought it would be a solution to the problem. He had never been violent, not even in the direst of circumstances when all hell would break loose around him. Today he seemed to have needed the violent outlet, like a medicine to cure AIDS. So, Meryl gave it, knowing all too well that the medicine would fail its job just like the upturned furniture wouldn’t be enough for this condition...no, disease that was gnawing at her husband’s existence.
She cursed herself for seeing the signs and ignoring them. Offering herself false comfort, repeating time and again ‘Everything is fine. He is absolutely fine.Maybe something’s wrong with me!’
As a lone tear made its way down her cheek, her knees gave way, swaying she landed on the warm carpeted floor with a thud and wondered if it was too late. Had she lost her husband forever? She realized it would be better losing him to another woman than to this deadly disease that seemed to have claimed him: Alzheimer’s.
Exhibit A.
June 2nd 2025
She had first noticed it at the dinner party thrown by Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn on the eve of one of their grandchildren’s tenth birthday. That had been 3 weeks ago.
Don had been in the middle of a heated discussion on the present economic climate prevailing in the United States, which had undergone a paradigm change ever since the real estate asset bubble bust more than a decade ago. He had been making a point about how things had been looking up considerably because of....Meryl had noticed a fleeting wild look cross his eyes-confusion then worry then indifference...and then he had again gone back to explaining the change, he seemed to act like that child who had learnt something by rote and when his turn came up in elocution had forgotten it halfway through, so like a broken tape recorder he kept on repeating the same few lines he’d managed to hold onto. She had observed this change, waved it off nonchalantly and had provided a closure to his argument- the new government had tax policies in place and the stock market was booming.
Exhibit B.
June 5th 2025
Three days later, their kids and grandkids were over for dinner. Getting all of them in the same time zone and under the same roof was one trick Meryl had always managed to pull up her sleeve even if it involved unfair means-like emotional blackmail or delicious food. She had been in the kitchen when Don had sauntered in wearing his Ralph Lauren tuxedo and an unknotted black tie. He had looked exasperated, the complexity of the tie eluding him. He had thrown his hands up in resignation and had asked Meryl to knot it. Laughing at his predicament, she had joked while knotting the jet black tie whether all this show off was for her or his new girlfriend-his grand-daughter. Then, she had noticed it again; the sudden look of confusion.
‘Wait’-he’d said, ‘Isn’t it the SAG Lifetime Achievement thing today?’ It was Meryl’s turn to get confused as she looked into her husband’s azure eyes which had darkened in worry. She had felt a shiver run down her spine, her brows had furrowed, recovering quickly she had almost blasted him off for not listening to her carefully: ‘Do you ever listen to me! How many times have I told you since morning that the KIDS are coming? And what SAG, I’ve already got that..besides SAG’s are in January...I’m getting the NYCIFF LAA...and that’s not until next to next Sunday! Where is your mind these days?’ She had sounded mad yet anxious. Don had only looked on with a bewildered expression, then as if snapping back into time he had said ‘Oh jeez! I know, I’m sorry, this new sculpture is driving me crazy!’
Lucky for him, Meryl had believed it and dismissed him. He had then gone upstairs, fished out an old shirt and worn it casually. Only the buttons had been wrongly done. Amidst the kids, grandkids and hustle-bustle Meryl’s keen eye had missed it.
Exhibit C.
June 7th 2025
It was the Saturday following the family dinner. Don had been working in his studio on his most recent sculpture since morning and now it was almost 9:30p.m. Meryl had started to believe that her husband had been eaten up whole by his own genius sculpture, so-hungry and tired she had wandered into Don’s studio. She generally made it a point to never disturb her husband while he was working, today would be an exception because she was sure her husband would be starving as he hadn’t come up for lunch.
Walking into his spacious studio, the first thing her eyes fell upon was this giant piece of stainless steel, actually two of them, coloured in black and grey, zig zag lines running between the two tall undulating but jagged pillars-suspended in mid air by a series of irregular glass pieces-again black and grey supporting them from beneath. There was something very similar about it, yet different. It looked like Don’s work and yet not his. He always chose red, green and blue for glasses, his work was always intricate but harmonious. This one had a chaotic look about it and the colours made it look ominous almost, but not less formidable.
Don was standing on the other side of the structure and squinting at certain spot on the zig zag lines. Feeling his wife’s presence, he muttered without looking up ‘I don’t get it’
Making a hmph sound Meryl said ‘I don’t either! You haven’t eaten since breakfast? Why is that? Come inside..I’m hungry, fast!’ she had reached her husband by then, planted a fervent kiss on his cheek and was now gazing at the spot her husband seemed to be fixated on.
At that Don looked at her, gave him his signature lop sided smirk and looked back at the space ‘I painted stripes here, in here and there, they’ve started vanishing and it’s been just two days!’
At that Meryl let out her signature full throated laugh ‘Don Gummer, are you try to make fun of yourself? Water paint on painted stainless steel! Don’t you always steal my nail polish for these little details? Don’t you always tell me that nail paint is the only thing that lasts?’ with that she patted his chest and looked into his eyes. They started twinkling suddenly ‘Oh...oh, yes, of course, how silly of me’ he said almost sincerely.
‘Let’s go and have dinner.’ he said, turning away to switch off the studio lights.
This time Meryl noticed neither the haunted and wounded look in her husband’s eye nor the fact that ordinary paper instead of lead or zinc had been used to hold the pieces of glass together.(the whole piece would come tumbling down the coming Wednesday night.)
Exhibit D.
June 11th 2025
They had been getting ready for a charity benefit for Equality Now, when Don started fidgeting with the things on the dressing table. Meryl had organized it only that morning and the sight of Don disrupting the harmony had not pleased her in the least. Immediately she had asked Don what he was looking for. After a moment of quiet reverie, he had looked up to announce that he couldn’t find his ‘hand clock’. Meryl had looked at him with the bizzarest expression and had wondered why he hadn’t called it his wrist watch. Laughing at his husband’s vocabulary, which she assumed was meant to humour her for the mess he had made on the dressing table she had handed him his watch which had been safely tucked away in its usual place-the first drawer of his armoire.
However, his jibe at the English Language had continued for the rest of the night, when he had referred to: charity as ‘money for distribution’, prawns as ‘orange insects’ and champagne as ‘shining wine’.
Meryl did not want to believe what her mind had been telling her for the past few days. She thought: this too shall pass. Things are alright, they will have to be.
Exhibit E.
June 15th
Don had curbed the urge to tell Meryl about the mishap that had occurred in his studio which had probably taken place in the midnight hours of Wednesday night when they were engaged in frivolous merriment at the charity gala. His most recent work with which he had already faced too many problems seemed to be crumbling down. When he had opened up the studio mid morning on Thursday he was aghast to see his sculpture almost in shambles. The sun was streaming into the room, making the broken pieces of tainted glasses sparkle with a dazzling brilliance, enough to make someone blind.
For a moment he had forgotten how to move or breathe. He wanted to shout, scream and kill whoever did this. He realized that the last one would be tricky, because then he would have to kill himself-after all he was responsible for the sculpture’s condition. Instead, he had gone up to the sculpture and with one deft and painful (literally) stroke of his hand had dismantled it himself.
He realized he too was crumbling down like that piece which now lay scattered beside him, pieces of his broken dreams. He had sat there for the longest hour, head in hands, cursing himself for his progressive foolishness. Life seemed like a jumbled puzzle, everyday was a struggle-keeping himself from zoning out, falling out of time, saying the right things and keeping alive the feeling of love and being loved in his heart. The last part always scared him the most. He wondered how in God’s name he could forget that sacred feeling of love in his heart which made him feel safe.
He decided that he would be more awake and aware from that day forward.
Inspite of this promise, he saw himself slipping, endlessly so, into the deep churning whirlpool that was his brain.
Meryl only saw the bloodied palm of his right hand-kissed it and bandaged it. He told her it was a glass cut, which it was, indeed. The manner in which he had managed to get the wound was manipulated.
Finale.
June 22nd 2025
1:30 p.m.
Meryl had not expected this. She didn’t know what she had been expecting.
Even when Don was organizing surprise parties he always made it a point to wish her, he never pretended to forget her birthday because that would mean that he would have to forego the morning birthday kisses which were generally different from the usual morning kiss. This year to Meryl’s utmost surprise, he had apparently forgotten about birthday kisses.
Last night when the kids had wished her at twelve Don had been cleaning up the kitchen, and locking up the garage and doors. He had asked Meryl to go ahead and get changed for bed. Being almost dead on her feet after a full day of visiting, talking and feeding slum children (which had now become almost a part of her routine job description as a humanitarian) she had been more than glad when Don had offered to clean up, which she assumed was a pre birthday perk. When the calls had ended and messages had started pouring in, she had put her phone on silent and had waited for her husband to come upstairs.
Before she knew it, she saw the morning sunlight streaming in through the moss green pastel coloured translucent curtains. Apparently, she had been so tired that she had dozed off before Don had come into the room. As she turned to her right, she saw her husband lost in a dreamless sleep, a slight smile gracing his lips.
She had expected Don to make up for the missed opportunity of wishing her last night and the absence of morning birthday kisses, but when he got up, he did not fulfil either of her expectations.
She wasn’t somebody who would keep on giving subtle hints to remind somebody about her birthday. However, this wasn’t somebody; the person is question was her husband! By noon, she was almost certain he wasn’t doing pretend play. He really didn’t remember...Meryl didn’t want to be angry..but..but she was! Her birthday had never been really important for her as such. It had always been more important for the kids and Don. Now that the kids were all grown and with families of their own scattered across the whole of USA, the whole family would only meet for family holidays. Since the past 5 years Don and Meryl had celebrated each other’s birthday together, happily. They would sometimes be joined by the kids on their anniversary. The guilty truth was that they liked being just the two of them- they were old but blissful.
So, she hadn’t expected this year to be any different.
The call from Henry at 1 p.m. changed their day. He had only called up Don to tell him that he had received a call from their electricity company saying that Don had forgotten to make last month’s payment. Further, he had asked only in passé what he had planned for his mother’s birthday.
Meryl, who had been listening to the conversation while pretending to read a document on ‘Epidemiology and Prognosis: Sickle Cell Anaemia in African children’ blanched when she saw her husband suddenly go pale and then red, as if he had been the recipient of some dreadful news.
After the initial reaction, he had replied to Henry in an emotionless voice, to whatever he had asked with a ‘nothing much’ and ‘I’ll catch you later son.’ And with that he had stormed out of the living room and into the den.
Dropping her document onto the settee on whose arm she had been perched on all this while, she ran to the den. What she saw in front of her broke her heart into a million tiny pieces.
He was kneeling on the floor in front of the fireplace, clutching a photo frame-of him and her and sobbing...no crying wildly-eyes red, body shaking vigorously with the impact of his grief and tears streaming down his face which was contorted in anguish.
Running up to her husband, she embraced him and cooed soothing words into his ears while stroking his thinning white hair while he kept on crying into her chest and nodding his head sideways.
The crying only got worse, so Meryl lifted his head and looked intently into the endless pools of electric blue in which a myriad of emotions floated by.
Steadying herself she asked him ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’
Looking into his wife’s enchanting eyes, he let out a heart wrenching sob ‘Everything’s wrong Meryl. Everything. It’s not May anymore, we don’t live in New York anymore, I don’t do exhibitions anymore, we’re not young anymore-we have grandchildren now, I don’t have the eidetic memory I had-hell, I don’t even have a memory anymore. I walk around in a mist, years and days keep evading me!’
Getting up he banged his fist into the wall ‘Bloody hell! I don’t remember words in English! I’m a blithering IDIOT!I didn’t remember YOUR BIRTHDAY!’ and with that he started throwing photo frame after frame off the mantle. Like a madman he went around the room upturning everything that came his way- rather everything he decided to make his way across, shouting obscenities and banging fists into chairs and desks.
Meryl had never seen Don this way. The worst had been when he had tackled a photographer back in the 80’s when he had tried to grope Meryl inappropriately.
So, this was unexpected, to say the least.
Her initial reaction had been to stop him from such self damage. She had tried and had been brushed off roughly making her almost tumble onto the floor. After that she had fallen deadly silent, while she watched her husband perform actions he had never done before, brushing away silent tears which fell without shame.
She wanted to tell him that it was alright, that her birthday didn’t matter, that they together would make him alright, that things would fall into place. She wanted to kiss every single wound in his body and drink up all his pain and hurt.
Instead, she only sat on the floor as her husband proceeded to turn their den into a war site; from a picture of harmony to one of chaos- as if to suit his present condition.
Her eyes had been so filled to the brim with the never ending flow of tears which had made her vision hazy, that she almost didn’t notice when Don stomped out of the den murmuring ‘I need to be alone...don’t come after me, I’ll be back...please!’ She didn’t know what the please was meant for-was he asking her to save him from his wretched state or was he asking her forgiveness for forgetting her birthday- either way, she knew, it was time to face the inevitable.
June 22nd 2025
3:35 p.m.
It had almost been two hours since the nightmarish incident. After her husband had left, she had cried herself out till she couldn’t cry anymore, they would of course come back in little sobs but the worst had seemed over.
Not wasting more time than already had been wasted, she had decided not to follow her husband (like he had wished) instead, she had got onto the laptop and had searched for ‘signs for Alzheimer’s’. After seeing the white screen come up with the top 10 symptoms, she made her heart believe what her mind had told her for quite some time.
She was hurting so badly, she could only imagine what her husband must be going through. She resolved that she wouldn’t break down. Don Gummer had been the one reliable rock that she would hang onto whenever in danger, now it was her turn to be his. No,no there was no way she could fail at this one most important role in her life. They would fight this together; they would fight tooth and nail and get through this. Meryl Streep would make her life partner; lover, friend and husband Don Gummer survive Alzheimer’s.
Inspite of that, when she made her way back to the den with its upturned contents, the horror of those quick moments came back to her.
As a lone tear made its way down her cheek, her knees gave way, swaying she landed on the warm carpeted floor with a thud and wondered if it was too late. Had she lost her husband forever? She realized it would be better losing him to another woman than to this deadly disease he seemed to be a victim of. Alzheimer’s.
Meryl had respected Don’s decision of spending some time alone. However, with every passing minute she was getting more and more worried. Salisbury was the kind of place where one generally wouldn’t get lost, nor would one find a good hiding place. There wasn’t the threat of serial killers, thieves or even being run over by speeding cars. Inspite of that Meryl needed to know where Don was, especially because he had been so fragile when he left home.
She locked up the house without bothering to change into more presentable clothes. Instead of walking she decided to take her old Toyota hybrid Camry which she had had since the 2000’s. There were not too many places Don could be, he would probably be at one of their favourite haunts from olden times.
She started with that little park near St John’s Episcopal Church where they often went on Sundays. They would sit on a bottle green bench, especially during autumn when the park would be full of fallen, dried maple leaves and look at the people going for mass and then they would listen to the muffled sounds of the proceedings inside while they just sat hand in hand without a word- the silence was always sweet and soothing.
Unfortunately, he was a no show here.
So, she then decided to try her luck at the two bars he’d generally go to with his friends-no luck there as well; and then she went up to the banks of the Riga Lake where they would spend many a day, especially when she was pregnant. The cool waters and soft breeze coupled with Don’s massages and kisses would always provide a temporary respite to her burning and aching body.
Don didn’t seem to have chosen the Lake banks either. Now Meryl was getting panicked. She had tried his phone about a hundred times by now and every time it went to voicemail. She even left a voice message ‘Call me when you get this...I mean hear this..uh..please’ . She decided to try one last place. If she didn’t find him there, she would file a report with the police.
Making her way till the point she could take her car, she peered out of her car window from where she could see the beginnings of the Appalachian Trail. They would often go hiking on this trail-all of them, when the kids were young and then settle somewhere inside the trail for a comfortable family picnic. She still recalled those wonderful days vividly and with extreme fondness.
Skirting her way through shrubs and bushes, she neared the entrance of the trail. There on the left edge of it was Don, sitting on a moss covered rock looking into nowhere. She could see his dejection from there-the droop of his shoulders, the hand on his chin.
Inspite of that, a slight smile crossed her features. She would always know where to find Don.
Making her way to her husband, she could hear that he was still sobbing, eyes closed. She lifted her left hand and brushed away a tear that had dared to fall. At that he opened his eyes-blue, sad, dull and clueless.
He took her hand and kissed it fervently and motioned for her to sit down beside him; she obeyed and sat down leaning her head into his chest.
After what seemed like a million years, Don spoke. His voice came out raspy and broken ‘What will happen, Meryl?’ Meryl who had now raised her head from his chest and was gazing into his face said nothing. He looked at her and added ‘What will happen when I can’t remember anymore? When I won’t remember you or our love----our kids, our life.What then?’
Trying to sound brave, but failing miserably she said ‘It needn’t be like that. We don’t even know it for sure!’ she lied ‘and..and if you do forget..I’ll make you remember..I won’t let you forget...I’ll be there...in sickness or in health.’
‘I went to that park and sat there. Then I started for home but ended up here. I think I got lost. I forgot my way home!’
‘Rubbish! Remember how you say ‘Salisbury is too small to get lost’. I’m sure you came up here to remember our picnics.’
‘Yes those, I remember them. Once you were pregnant with Grace and I had to almost carry you all the way up. You were wearing this yellow dress I hated, but you looked so beautiful and innocent that day, radiant-carrying our love inside you. I remember that.’
‘Hmm..Me too. I still have that dress.’
Cupping her chin, and looking directly into her eyes he asked ‘Do you regret us? Ever?’
Unable to control her tears which had been betraying her for the most part of the day she could only nod her head sideways repeatedly and utter a small sounding ‘Never. Not once.’
‘Then...then, will you take me back home every time I forget my way?’
‘Yes, I’ll always find you, like I did today, even if I have to do this for the rest of my life.’
‘Meryl, whenever my thoughts go astray, whenever I lose myself, whenever I forget, always remember that I love you and even if I don’t remember I always will. You, are my life. Please, please don’t allow me to forget you.’
At that Meryl looked at her husband, held him tight in her arms, lifted them up together and said ‘Come home. I’ve got you. We’ll get through this. You know, I love you and always will. We’ll be alright.’
With the power and conviction of their love Meryl and Don left the Appalachian Trail and made their way home. The journey ahead seemed too long.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost, Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening