Liesel Schmidt - Life Without You

“It’s some truck,” I said, stretching my lips into a smile. And it certainly was. It was some truck, perfect and shiny and red, such a difference from the steady succession of blue trucks he’d had over the course of my life. Maybe that’s what he had been hoping for. Something different. Some kind of visual reminder that there were still new things to be had, new memories to make, even if he had to do them on his own. His life wasn’t over, any more than mine was. Now it was up to us to decide whether those futures were dull and hopeless or shiny and bright with possibility—like a sweet candy apple just waiting to be bitten into.

“So where do you want to go?” he asked, eyebrows raised in interest.

I looked down at my hands, resting idly in my lap now that we were both encapsulated in the front seats of the truck’s sumptuous cab. This truly was one impressive piece of machinery, light-years away from anything I’m sure he could have ever envisioned as a young man with a family to raise.

“Honestly, Grandpa, I have no idea,” I replied, feeling a bit lost. “I haven’t been here in so long, and I know a lot of things have changed.” I paused, lifting my gaze and regarding him thoughtfully. “Do you have anywhere you like to go? Show me around a little.” I bit my lip. I hated sounding so indecisive, but I really wasn’t sure what was even here anymore. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, sounding chipper. Give Grandpa a mission, and he was happy. I had just made him my unofficial tour guide, and I could see he was getting into the idea. “You’ve never been to Peninsula Town Center, have you?”

I wracked my brain, coming up short. The name didn’t sound familiar. “Um, no?” I said, shaking my head. “What is it?”

He smiled. “It’s a whole bunch of stores and shops and restaurants, kind of like a mall. Since they tore down Coliseum Mall, they had to do something with all that space, you know.” He turned the key in the ignition and the truck roared to life. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Well, it sounds like a plan, then.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “But really, are you sure you want to go shopping?”

“You’re a girl. I’m sure you probably like doing that, right?” He chuckled.

I shrugged. “Yes and no. It can be fun, if you’re in the right mood and with the right people,” I admitted.

“So. Am I the right people?” he asked with a smile. I peered closely at him, examining every inch of his timeworn face. The question was asked flippantly, but I saw the unexpected slight sheen of tears in his eyes. Even though he was playing the whole situation quite well, I could tell it was wearing on him—even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself or to anyone else.

“You’re definitely the right people,” I said, hoping he knew just how much I meant them. “Am I the right people?” I heard my voice break.

“You bet. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather go with. We can have lunch while we’re out there, too,” he replied, glancing at the glowing face of the clock on the space-age dashboard.

I followed his gaze. “Good Lord, there are a lot of lights and things on there,” I marveled, feeling my eyes widen. It made me feel overwhelmed, just looking at them. “How do you keep all of that straight?”

Grandpa’s grin broadened as he peeked in the rearview mirror and began to back out of the garage. “To tell you the truth, Dellie, I haven’t figured it all out yet. It’s got so many bells and whistles on there, I don’t think I’ll find them all before it’s time to trade it in for a new one!”

“Seriously,” I breathed. “I’d be afraid to start it, I think. Something might explode!” I giggled.

“It’s definitely something. What they don’t put in cars nowadays.” He shook his head, turning out onto the road to head toward our newly determined destination. Just the two of us, on an adventure together. I thought about that a minute, realizing I’d never actually gone anywhere with him on my own. Grammie had always been with us—and if she wasn’t there, there was always someone else there. It was odd, a foreign sensation, and the sudden realization made it seem all the more important to get things right.

“So have you been there many times before?” I asked, shifting the conversation back to our outing.

He shook his head. “No. I went there a few times before Christmas to get some gifts, a couple of times to pick up some birthday presents for the little ones,” he murmured. There was a melancholy to his voice, his words underscored by the unspoken acknowledgement that my grandmother would have been the one to make those trips. Instead, he was relearning the landscape on his own, no longer accompanied by the companion who had seen him through so many years. No longer was there a feminine hand to guide him, at the helm of the ship as it wended its way through the sometimes perilous seas of crowds at the mall or in the grocery store.

“I guess it’ll be some exploring for both of us, then,” I chirped, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

He nodded in silent contemplation as he scrolled through his own limited experience at the string of shops. “I know there’s the Penney’s, Macy’s—used to be Hecht’s, you know,” he enumerated. “Some big book store. I think it’s a Barnes and Nobles,” he continued, adding an extra “s” to the store’s name. “Target’s a little ways down, too. Some restaurants and a bunch of stores that I’ve never heard of before.” He paused. “Most of ’em I’ve never heard of before. But we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get into.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to give me a wink and a little smile. “You can be my date.”

I blushed, feeling an unexpected little lift at the idea. We could make this special, rather than sad. This time together, I thought with new determination, was going to be a gift to both of us. Something that we would be able to treasure and build on. A new time to forge a better relationship and learn new things about one another.

After all, I now realized, settling deeper into the supple leather of my seat, there were so very many facets of this man I had never seen. So many stories I’d never heard and so many memories that he had never shared with me. And I was hungry to hear every bit of it.

“Where should we go first?” he asked, pulling up to the impressive complex after a quick drive. Grandpa turned to look at me, his watery blue eyes showing their age and an undeniable bit of evidence that this whole ordeal really was taking its toll on him—despite his best efforts to seem unfazed.

I felt my eyebrows rise, and I shook my head. “I have no idea, Grandpa. This is going to be a little like the blind leading the blind,” I admitted. “And you’re really being a good sport and all, but I don’t want you to be bored out of your gourd, either.” I frowned thoughtfully. “Do they have any stores that you’d be interested in?”

He turned his eyes back to the big, busy maze of parking lots, bustling with activity despite the fact that it was only mid-morning on a weekday. “Since they don’t have any hardware stores, I guess maybe I’d have to say the bookstore?” he replied, sounding a bit unsure in his answer.

I nodded enthusiastically.

Good.

This was good. He was directing the ship, something I knew he was good at and would happily take on as a challenge. Maybe it would keep him busy and distracted enough that he really wouldn’t mind the fact that we didn’t really have a particular mission to fulfill. Grandpa wasn’t used to idleness. Most things that he did served a purpose. Most of his encounters with the retail world were driven and focused around a need, rather than simply enjoying the scenery and exploring. The man didn’t seem to understand the concept of a stroll, much less window-shopping.