Quiet Time in the Morning

Fiction

Quiet Time in the Morning

Jim liked the quiet time in the morning. He arose today at about 5:30, as he did every morning, even on weekends.  There was no alarm, he was just done sleeping. It was force of habit, perhaps.  For his entire career the alarm had been set for 5:30. On weekends he might sleep a little later. But even after twenty years of retirement, he arose around 5:30 every morning. Even on weekends, because weekends don’t mean so much in retirement.

He left his wife, Carla, asleep in bed, and their dog asleep on his pad in the corner, and went downstairs for breakfast. He turned the TV on to the news and opened his laptop, on the kitchen table, to the morning paper. As with every morning, he ate his cereal and a bagel and drank his coffee. 

Jim liked the quiet time in the morning, before Carla came down with the dog. They always came down together, at about 8am, although it was sometimes Carla that got the dog up, and sometimes the dog would get Carla up.  They would come downstairs, and Carla would let the dog out to do his business, and then they would come into the kitchen and greet Jim.

The dog was three years old, a mix that mostly resembled a labrador retriever.  Jim hadn’t wanted to get a dog.  A dog would be disruptive to their easy retirement.  But Carla was insistent.  In the last years of her life, she wanted one last stand of motherhood. Being loved wasn’t quite enough, she wanted to be needed.

So, they went to the animal shelter, a number of times actually, until Carla found the right dog. He was ten weeks old, and a handful, as puppies always are. Carla named him Walter. Jim thought that was an odd name for a dog, but Carla assured Jim that that was his name.  She had asked him his name, and that’s what he told her.  Not Walt, Walter.

Walter was a constant disruption as a puppy.  He had to be watched constantly because he would chew on anything.  And pee and poop anywhere. Jim would have nothing to do with cleaning up after him.  Walter was Carla’s dog and responsibility.  That had been agreed to beforehand. And it gave Carla the sense of need that she had been missing all these years.

But now Walter was three, and he was no problem at all. After the rough puppyhood, Jim was impressed that they could go away for many hours at a time, and Walter would create no trouble, no chewed furniture, no problems at all. It didn’t come naturally to Walter, but Walter learned what mattered to Jim and Carla, and adopted their ways.

Yes, Walter was Carla’s dog, but Jim loved him too. Still, Walter made their life more complicated, limited their ability to take trips. Walter was omnipresent, and Jim would have preferred to not have him there. Even after three years and all the adjustment, life would be easier without Walter.  But also less full, to be sure.

Jim liked that quiet time in the morning.  He read a lot and wrote a little. Jim wondered, sometimes, why he spent all that time reading.  Not just casual entertainment reading, but studying, learning. Jim and Carla had less and less time left; what was the learning good for? Not for a career at this point. Jim could think of no application for what he learned, but felt fulfilled from continually striving to comprehend the world, the world that they would be leaving in not so many years. No, no macabre sense of doom, just a recognition of reality. Jim and Carla had made their ‘final arrangements’. They wanted to make their own plans ahead of time, not leave it to, well, to the last minute.

Jim liked the quiet time in the morning. But he also enjoyed having Carla and Walter come down after a few hours, and they would get their day going from there. Any time that Jim was eating, Walter was there, quietly begging.  He would sit, or sometimes stand and rest his head in Jim’s lap, imploring Jim for a morsel. Those eyes! Jim could not resist them.  He would give Walter occasional morsels of what he was eating, be it a bagel or banana or whatever. When there was no more, Walter would still be begging with those eyes, but Jim would wave his hands and say, “Bagel’s all gone”, and Walter would move on to some other activity to occupy his time.

Walter understood a lot of what Jim and Carla said.  He had been taught the obvious commands, “Sit”, “Lie down”, and “Come’. But without any training, he learned that Jim was “Daddy” and Carla was “Mommy”. If Jim said, “Go to Mommy”, Walter would go to Carla. Once, when they were in the kitchen and Carla said that she thought they should get a new toaster, Walter looked over at the toaster and then back at Carla. How much did he comprehend?  How much was he thinking?

Walter interested Jim that way. In some ways Walter seemed almost prescient, almost as if his mind operated on some higher plane.  Walter knew habits, motions, that Jim and Carla were barely aware of.  When Walter saw Jim and Carla dressed differently, he knew they would be leaving. As a younger dog, Walter had paid attention to the TV in the living room when it showed a dog in a dramatic scene.  But once he understood it wasn’t real, he no longer cared. When Jim left watching TV in the living room to get a snack in the kitchen, Walter followed.  Jim couldn’t sneak a snack.  Walter knew. So, Jim planned on sharing with Walter, always ending by waving his hands and saying, “Snack’s all gone.” It seemed to Jim that Walter was capable of significant insights, yet couldn’t figure out some of the simplest problems such as how to get a ball that was stuck behind a chair. Walter’s mind, uncluttered by rational thoughts and concerns of the day, seemed in some cases to be transcendent.

Jim liked the quiet time in the morning. But it was getting later, past the time when Carla and Walter should be down. Eventually, Walter came down alone.  Jim wondered why, but let Walter out to do his business. After Jim let him back in, they both went upstairs to see to Carla. She was lying under the covers, just as he had left her.  Just as he always left her. Jim called to her but she didn’t answer. He touched her, and she was not warm. Jim stood over her, knowing, but not quite comprehending, that she was gone. It is the day that he knew was coming. But the knowing could not prepare him. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, preferring to maintain this moment, rather than face all that was to come.  Walter sat before him, questioning. Jim looked down at him, contemplating how to make Walter understand. Jim patted his head. Waving his hands, Jim told him, “Mommy’s all gone.” Jim saw that Walter didn’t completely understand. But then, he did.

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