Memories and Promises of Dirty Jokes

The parson was dozing in the uncomfortable, upright hospital room chair. Somewhere in the depths of the darkness that enveloped him a voice echoed, “Parson, Parson.” He shook himself to consciousness.

His eyes opened to see her in the hospital bed. The upper portion had been lifted upright about a third of the way. Her hair was tossed about in a manner she'd be horrified were she to see it, but which brought a certain cuteness to her demeanor, especially in these circumstances and which brought memories to the parson.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“Tim, needed some rest, Andrea,” he said. “I volunteered to come down and sit with you for a night. He'll be better for it.”

“You're sweet,” said Andrea. “I guess Tim has given you all the gory details.”

“He has.” The parson paused. Then he said, “I'm sorry, Andrea. I'm so sorry.”

“Ah, don't be sorry, Parson,” she said. “We've both had a good and long life. I was pretty sure way back when that one day it would end.”

The parson didn't say anything. She didn't say anything for a long time. She looked out the window. The parson rose, stretched, put the blanket he'd covered himself with in the cabinet/closet. At the room sink he splashed water on his face and then dried it. He sat back down. She turned from the window and looked at him closely.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“I mean a personal question about us.”

“Sure.”

“Does Tim know?”

“Does Tim know what?”

“Does he know we dated in high school?”

“Andrea, everybody knows we dated in high school.”

“Does he really?”

“Yes, don't you remember that night you and Ms. Parson, Tim and I went out to dinner? We talked about it.”

“Did we?”

“We did.”

“Sometimes I can't remember things. I think it's because of the drugs. What happened at the dinner?”

“Tim found out about us dating in high school; in fact, Ms. Parson did, too. I wish you could remember it. They were both so shocked. They laughed and said it was a good thing we drifted apart because we'd have ended up divorced.”

“I wish I could remember it, too.”

There was silence again for a while. Then Andrea said, “I'm glad you found Ms. Parson.”

“Me, too. I needed her.”

“You still do; don't you.”

“I do. But I still have her in so many ways.”

“Will you be honest with me?”

“I will.”

“How long?”

“No one has told you?”

“Everyone wants to protect me.”

The parson paused. He didn't want to intrude upon sacred space. But this was Andrea. “Three days; maybe a week; maybe a few days more.”

She looked out the window. The room was quiet.

“No pain?”

“No pain. I guess you'll just go to sleep.”

She smiled, “That's nice.”

The parson now looked out the window. Sometimes forty years of ministry are not worth a damn in providing the right response.

“Are you going to do the memorial service?”

“Tim asked me to.”

“Can you make me one promise?”

“Anything.”

“You'll tell at least one dirty joke.”

“That's a promise. How about I add a description of that day at the waterfall?”

“It must be the drugs, Parson. I can't seem to remember that at all.” She looked at him and smiled the mischievous smile that seemed to be the hallmark of her younger years.

“You'll make sure Tim knows how much I love him?”

“I will.”

Again she looked out the window. It was a long, long moment. The parson rose and moved around the bed to look upon her face. She was asleep. The parson returned to his chair. He took out his laptop and began to input some thoughts. He had no conception of how long he'd been trying to work on his sermon, but eventually she turned her head and spoke.

“Working on what you're going to say at the memorial?”

“Not yet,” he smiled.

“Will you do me a favor?”

“You got it.”

“Lie.”

“Lie?”

“Yes, lie. There's absolutely no reason you need to tell the truth about me. Couldn't you make me out to be a saint?” She laughed. It was a really halting laugh. But it was a laugh.

“You are a saint in so many ways?”

“Right,” she said.

The room was quiet again. And in a few moments she said, “I'm going to sleep again, Parson. Thanks for coming. Thanks for being my friend all these years.”

The parson didn't say anything. She fell, almost immediately, asleep. A few hours later Tim came. The parson and he talked a while in whispers. Tim promised he'd call when needed or if there was any change.

The parson left. He walked to his car accompanied by a half century of good memories and trying his best to think of an appropriate dirty joke.