Home of Their Dreams

The widower had settled into the recliner, looking across the living room and through the picture window at the peaceful scenery outside. The water of the lake was rippled by a fish popping up to munch a hapless bug that had landed on the surface. The trees stood tall and verdant, and the man admired the perfection of the vista. It was indeed the home of their dreams, but the thought brought back the old pain, the memory of the day he was going to announce to his wife that he had found the lake house they had discussed for so long. As soon as he signed the contract, he hurriedly drove towards home, tried to call to give her the great news. It went to voicemail. That was odd, he thought. At least the caregiver should have answered. Curiosity turned to dread as he imagined what he would find. As he turned the corner onto their street, he could already see the ambulance in their driveway. Dread turned to panic as he slammed the brakes in front of the house and jumped out of the car to find the caregiver stepping out of their front door, the expression on her face telling him his fears were confirmed.

She held out her arms to stop him from entering, telling him how his wife had stopped breathing and she tried to give her CPR but it was too late. He fairly shoved her out of the way and found the EMTs bringing her shrouded body out on a gurney. The memory shook him all over again just as if it had happened yesterday. So much, he thought, so much pain... She should have been here. We were supposed to live out our lives here. Now, the memories of their lives together came flooding unwanted or maybe wanted but dreaded to his weary mind. He remembered the fact that when they were first married she couldn't cook. One day, she started to boil water and forgot it was going and it boiled down to nothing and the pot was scorched. He teased her for years about 'burning water'. Then there was the first time she tried to make a meat loaf and again it was a matter of cooking too long. He tried to assuage her embarrassment by insisting on eating it anyways. He bit into a crispy portion and cracked a tooth. Howling in pain, he spat the offending bit out, and apologized to his wife for being so rude. A trip to the dentist, and the remainder of the tooth was taken out. Such were the thousands of memories, the events that made up their shared experiences.

After the funeral, he was going through her things, smiling and laughing at the oddball memorabilia she kept, and near the bottom of the pile there was the broken tooth in a ring case! How had she managed to get it back from the dentist? She was funny that way, keepsakes were important to her and he wondered why she would hang on to that tooth? After all, she had since become quite the chef, even extending her repertoire to more exotic dishes. He especially liked her chicken curry. How sentimental she had been, and he also found himself reminiscing even while grieving his loss.

They had talked at length about what they would do when they retired, and the lake house, originally her idea, grew on him as well, and she had made him promise to find the perfect lake house for them to spend their final years in. But she had fallen ill, and for the months that followed she lost more and more of her strength and her will to live. He made it his mission to fulfill his promise, more urgent was it now that the proverbial clock was ticking. Every spare moment he could conjure up, he would spend searching real estate ads, calling agents and viewing properties. After months of searching to no avail, a sympathetic agent shared with him an outside-of-the-box idea to achieve his goal. Not cheap, he warned, but you may find it serves your purpose.

The widower was skeptical at first, but the salesman gave him a full tour and even gave him a preview of life in the lake house. He was so impressed he went directly to the bank to mortgage their suburban home. It was going to be sold to finance the lake house anyways, he thought. And back to that moment, the moment he knew she was gone. He had fallen onto her, sobbing as the EMTs stood by. He whispered to her that he found their lake house, he kept his promise, and buried his face in the sheet covering her lifeless body. He hated that day, he hated himself for surviving her, he hated that the lake house was going to become a place of mourning rather than one of peaceful rest.

But the day had come to make a decision. The option was going to run out, and the widower had run out of money. Everything he had was invested in the lake house, and even though it had been contracted for the both of them, he was able to convince the salesman's supervisor to allow the purchase to proceed with him alone. He arrived at their office, nothing left but the clothes on his back. Everything they had owned had either been sold or given to charity. Furniture, clothes, appliances, bric-a-brac, all gone. He gave their memorabilia to family members, whomever would take it all and chose a set of clothing to wear to the lake house.

And there he sat, in a recliner, staring out at the peaceful scene. Even the sounds were perfect. The occasional rat-tat-tatting of a woodpecker, and splash of the water, then the honks of a flight of geese approaching. He watched as they winged past, and wondered how she would have loved this moment. They were flying west, he thought. How odd, shouldn't they be heading south this time of year? He then heard a soft intonation of a piano playing. It's melody was bittersweet and he recognized it from years past. It was called Sleepfall. He had always loved this instrumental track. The sound of a flute counterpointed the piano's major chords as he drifted for what seemed an eternity.

The widower awoke with a start. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, thinking his time at the lake house had just been a dream and that he was back in the empty house full of sadness and regret. But, he realized he was still in the recliner looking out at the lake and that eased his mind. The tones of the melody still played and he felt in tune with its flute passage that was bringing the track to its final theme. He at last appreciated the serenity she had convinced him there would be here. For the first time in months, he felt her love warming him, mending his heart. He could actually hear her voice calling to him, then out of the corner of his eye he saw her approaching him. She was young as the day they married, healthy and beautiful. His breath was taken away at the sight of her, and he could only whisper 'my love?' as she sat down in a recliner next to him. She reached out and demanded his hand in hers, and he, dumbfounded at her presence, complied.

They sat quietly together for awhile, she eventually turned to him. I missed you, she said softly. He told her he had kept his promise, and so how does she like the house? She smiled in that way he recognized so well and told him it was perfect. He was warmed by the dulcet tones of her voice, and told her it was all for her. She cut him off, you mean for us, she corrected. He smiled, yes it was. It was, finally, perfect. She told him she thought she could stay there forever, don't you agree? He nodded, yes definitely now that you're here. And they sat there, admiring the perfection of their lake house until darkness overtook them.

The nurse watching the computer monitor noted the slowing beep as her trainee sat by watching with her. He leaned in and pointed at the screen.

“What's that blob of light coming into the picture?” he asked.

“They tell you that is just a bit of dust passing by the camera, but this is actually something that happens quite often when their time is near. I figure it's a loved one come to lead them home. Look at how his hand is hanging out, like he's holding hands with someone...”

They watched until the beeping became a steady buzz, indicating it was over. The nurse poked at the touchscreen and sound turned off. The two got up and walked over to a nearby door, the nurse taking out her card and waving it at a panel on the wall. The door slid open and the two entered the room. The holographic projection of the lake house scene was still visible but receding into a million or more nodes embedded in the curved walls surrounding the man sitting back in the recliner.

“I don't get it,” the young trainee said,”he spent every penny he had for this simulation, what did get him in the end?”

The nurse had grasped the back of the recliner with both hands and her foot clicked something under the bottom. The recliner's back dropped down and its front lifted up, so that it resembled something more like a gurney, the man's dead body now lying flat, ready to transport. She turned to the trainee, nodding at the man, replying, “It was his final wish to be with his late wife at the lake house he promised to buy her, and here we were able to give it to him. This is what it got him in the end.” They looked down at him, a single tear having rolled down the side of his face and past his serene smile.