“They started calling him that when he was a kid,” Joe explained. He and Bumper’s son, Charlie, were best friends, had been since they were freshmen at Dreyerville High.
“Because he liked cars?” Teddy asked.
Because, according to Charlie, he was pudgy as a kid and always running into things. But Joe just said, “Yeah, Bumper’s a top mechanic.”
Teddy looked up at Bumper with awe but made no comment. The man beneath the grease-stained overalls was still a little chunky but not like the old days, at least according to Charlie.
The Merc was finished. Joe backed the car out of the garage and waited while Mrs. Sparks and Teddy climbed in.
As he watched them drive away, he thought of all the problems a kid Teddy's age could cause, how much time watching the boy would take, and marveled at the crazy things he sometimes got himself into.
3
Lottie had an appointment with Dr. Davis at three o’clock the following Monday. She hadn't remembered the time or even that she was supposed to go but she had written it down on a piece of paper and laid it on the kitchen counter.
Lottie thought of her car, newly serviced and parked in the garage behind her house. It was a bit of a drive to the doctor’s office and she had gotten a little confused driving back the last time. She must have made the appointment for Monday because Monday was one of Doris Culver’s days off. Doris was a good friend and a very good neighbor.
Though Lottie hadn't told her about the Alzheimer's yet, she had mentioned her advancing years, her reluctance to drive, and that she was thinking of selling her car. Doris had volunteered to drive her anyplace she needed to go and Lottie had taken her up on it.
Teddy was at work at his summer job at Murdock's Auto Repair, so she didn't have to worry about him. She climbed into Doris's car and the station wagon pulled away from the curb.
A few minutes later, they were on their way to Dr. Davis's office on Franklin Street not far down the block from the entrance to Community Hospital. The streets of Dreyerville were lined on both sides with sycamore trees so old they grew together over the road, forming a rich, green canopy. This warm August afternoon, the sun shone down through the branches, dappling the hood of the car.
“Why don't you go ahead and get out,” Doris said, “and I'll go find a parking spot.” Wearing tan slacks and a beige blouse, Doris always dressed conservatively, pulling her hair back into a bun, never wearing too much makeup. She had never been particularly pretty, not even when she was a girl but now in her fifties, there was a pinched quality to her features, a tired look around her mouth.
Doris's disappointment in life seemed to show in her face, Lottie thought. Except when she was at the bakery. There she looked more like the young, hopeful girl that she had once been.
Lottie cracked open the door. “I really appreciate this, Doris. I don't think I'll be in there very long.” The office sign sat next to the door, helpfully pointing the way. Lottie walked in that direction.
The receptionist smiled and pulled out her chart and a few minutes later, Lottie was headed for the nurses' station. With the arthritis in her hip, she couldn't walk as fast as she used to, so it took her a while to make her way down the long, narrow corridor.
One of the nurses was waiting, a slender young woman in her late twenties with tawny brown hair, light green eyes, and a pretty smile. She was new, Lottie thought, or maybe she just didn't remember her.
“Good morning...” Lottie read the name on the woman's badge. “Sylvia."
“Good morning, Mrs. Sparks. How are you feeling today?”
Lottie mentioned her arthritis but both of them knew that wasn't what the nurse was asking about. The young woman took her blood pressure then led her into one of the examining rooms. Sylvia helped her get seated in a gray vinyl, metal-framed chair and quietly closed the door.
Fighting a surge of pity, Syl turned away from the aging woman she recognized as living in the house next door to her apartment. She had met her neighbor, Lottie Sparks and her grandson, Teddy, at church the morning she had gone with Doris. She hadn't expected to see the elderly woman the following week in the doctor's office, being treated for a rapidly progressing form of Alzheimer's disease.
Sylvia glanced toward the door of the examining room. Alzheimer's was eventually fatal and Lottie's disease was moving fairly fast. Her medical records listed a cousin in New Jersey as next of kin. If the cousin wouldn't take Lottie's grandson, she hoped there was someone else who would. If not, he would go into the foster care system. She hated to think what sort of place he might wind up in.
Syl walked over to the desk in the reception area and set down a couple of files. Across the way, she spotted her landlady, Doris Culver, sitting in one of the vinyl chairs and reading a copy of Better Homes and Gardens. Doris had probably driven Lottie to her appointment. Sylvia walked over to say hello.
“Good morning, Doris. Are you waiting for Mrs. Sparks?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“She's in with Dr. Davis but she shouldn't be too much longer."
Sylvia noticed the page lying open in Doris's lap, a photo of a cheerful, airy home filled with lush, green plants.
“I know it's none of my business,” Doris said, “but is Lottie all right? When I drove her here two weeks ago, I thought she was coming in for a simple checkup."
“I wish I could tell you but I can't divulge patient information. I'd get fired if I did. Why don't you ask her what's going on? She might be glad to have someone to talk to about it.”
“All right, I will.” Doris smiled. “In the meantime, I hope you're getting settled in.”
“I'm completely unpacked. I'm looking forward to buying some plants and things to make the apartment feel more homey.”
“That's a good idea. I'm very good with plants.”
“I think they make all the difference.”
Doris's look turned thoughtful. “I hope Floyd doesn't make too much noise out in his shop.”
The sawing and hammering could be kind of a nuisance at times but Mr. Culver never worked past nine in the evening and the apartment actually sat over the garage, not the shop, so it wasn't really so bad.
“I'm getting to where I hardly notice,” Syl said.
“That's good to hear.”
“I'll check on Mrs. Sparks.” Syl turned and walked away, hoping Lottie Sparks would confide in her friend. Going through Alzheimer's was difficult enough without trying to do it alone. She was certain Lottie wouldn't mention the problem to her grandson, at least not until she had to, and even then, it would be hard for him to understand.
Syl thought about the darling little boy who lived in the house next door. She had always wanted children. She and Joe had planned to have at least three or four of them.
Then the week before their wedding, she had gone in to see her family physician for a gynecological exam. She had been having some problems with her periods and wasn't sure of the cause. Testing had revealed cervical cancer, fairly well progressed. Treatment would require a complete hysterectomy, followed by chemotherapy.
Syl had been devastated. She was engaged to a man who wanted a family more than anything in the world. And there was no guarantee that the chemo would work.