Tales from the Cooinda Cycle: Memory Two

He sat drinking his can of lemonade, pouring a nip at a time into a glass and then sipping at it like vodka. Every day, at the same time he would come to the cafe, sit outside at the same table and look at me with a hand raised, one digit pointing up to signal ‘One’. I knew that meant to bring him his can of lemonade. He brought his own glass to drink from, taking it out of his stroller.

Every day is the same here, I thought. Stuck in an endless loop of daily activity.

He sipped away at his cold drink, savouring each pour like it was the highest quality, and as if it was his last. I finished making coffee for the others in the cafe, finished making a cheese toastie for the one who was obsessed with The Beatles and went over to The Lemonade Man.

“How’s your day been so far?” I asked, pulling a chair next to the table to sit with him.

Pausing for another slow sip, he nodded a few times before speaking.

“You know… I can’t complain matey, got my scotch.” He said, referring to the lemonade as he poured another glass.

I never could figure out whether he called the soft drink his ‘scotch’ as a little joke, or if he actually believed it to be a fine whiskey that he had each day.

“You know, I was watching a program last night all about this lady and how she was treated after finding out she was AC/DC…” He said without any prompt.

I had no clue what he could mean by this, was the girl a newly discovered child of one of the band members? Had his brain combined a number of things he saw on the news or TV the night before? I had no idea what he meant, or how to respond. The silence in the conversation was becoming stronger, as was my desire to get out of this place with what little sanity I still had.

“... You know… a lesbian!” He said, finishing his thought with a sudden burst of energy.

My brain strained to figure out how his mind got to that conclusion and what on earth the story he actually watched was about.

“Oh… okay…” Was all I could vocalise.

Thankfully at that moment, another resident had entered the cafe and was looking to purchase something. I excused myself and got up to assist the Granny in the cafe. She bought some wafer biscuits and a six-pack of UHT milk cartons.

“Wild party planned?” I joked, motioning towards her purchase as she paid.

With a cold look directly into my eyes she whispered back.

“Yes.”

I handed her change to her, and quickly walked back outside.

Everyone here gives off a strange vibe.

“How’s the book going?” I asked, returning to the Lemonade Man and sitting back down.

He was currently attempting to compile his memoirs into a book, and seemed to truly believe it would be an instant bestseller based on the many encounters with famous people throughout his long life. I thought it could actually be an interesting read, however I did not think it would ever be finished due to him changing the order of stories, and removing and then replacing the same stories over and over again. I had been helping him a few afternoons a week, always feeling as if I was starting all over again each time, and never making progress.

Every day feeling the same, an endless loop of insanity I was stuck in.

“Very good, mate. Very good. Must be nearly ready to send to the publisher.” He said, finishing the last sip of his ‘scotch’ and placing the empty glass back into his walker.

“You know… I’d love to add that AC/DC girl into the memoirs, I think her story was fascinating and think it would be a great way for more people to know about AC/DC people.”

“Yeah… I guess that would be a helpful thing, where in the memoirs would it fit?”

How on Earth does that work? Isn’t it HIS memoirs? I Thought.

“I’ll just add it to the end, put her story there and information about her.”

That doesn’t make any sense, but keep quiet. He’ll probably forget tomorrow…

“Oh okay, sounds good. I’ll probably see you tomorrow to help with the memoirs okay? I’ve got a chess game with one of the others this afternoon.” I said, getting up to return to the cafe kitchen.

“Sounds good matey, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, leaving in what was the opposite direction to where his room was located. Leaving me in what I now realised was an empty cafe, where did the others all go?

I sat stewing and mulling over the strange conversation for hours, this place was beginning to tear away at my very being. I began to think about meeting him the next day and how painful the session of helping him with technology would be tomorrow…

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… I’m not sure if this loop of madness will ever end.