Chapter 4

"Shit!" yelled Betty. Her father appeared to have fainted ... or gone back to sleep.

"Grandma!" squealed Fran, wriggling to try to get away from her great grandfather's head, and pressing up against the end of the couch. Things just weren't meeting her expectations at all, here. She had believed that, when Great Grandfather Bob woke up, he'd remember everything, and know who he was, and what had happened. Her fantasy hadn't included, however, him remembering what she'd done to him as he lay sleeping. Somehow that part of it he wouldn't remember. And he didn't know who she was either! It was all too creepy for her suddenly and her mind couldn't cope. So she seized on her grandmother's epithet, which was something she knew what to think about.

"Grandma!" she squealed again, horrified at the first vulgar word she had ever heard her grandmother speak.

"Oh hush!" ordered Betty sternly. "Take care of him. I've got to get some help!"

She practically leapt out of the chair and tried to remember where she'd left her purse. Her cell phone was in it. It was a brand new model, that allowed her to actually store phone numbers in it. She'd only had it a few months, but already phone numbers she'd known by memory for years had fled her mind. She had to call Martha and June immediately. She suddenly realized that she didn't know where Martha was ... and that it wouldn't matter anyway, since Martha didn't have a cell phone. She dashed to the bedroom and saw her purse on the chair that sat beside her father's bed. She clutched at it and dug frantically for the phone. Finding it, she punched the numbers that would get her June's home phone.

Fran stood up. She stared at her great grandfather. Oddly the fact that he looked like he was sleeping again initially made her feel better. She naturally fell into her habit of talking to him as he slept, reaching to move him to what looked like a more comfortable position.

"It's okay, Great Grandpa." she murmured. "You just woke up, that's all. We were all surprised."

Quite suddenly she didn't want him to be asleep again, like he had been in the past. She hadn't gotten to say much to him, but he seemed like a nice man all the same.

"Don't go back to sleep." she implored him, running her hands over his chest in little fluttery movements. "We want you to stay awake."

She froze as the blue eyes opened and stared up at her again, like her hopes had suddenly come true. She dropped to her knees beside him and leaned closer to his face. She could hear her grandmother screaming dimly in another part of the house. It unnerved her and she clamped down on her own emotions.

"Don't be afraid." she said softly, staring into his eyes. Then, like her grandmother had said, "It's going to be okay."

"He's awake!" screamed Betty into the phone as soon as it stopped ringing, and before anyone could announce the ubiquitous "Hello?"

"What?" came the tinny voice of her sister.

"He's awake!" screamed Betty again, her emotions crashing. She began to sob.

"Betty?" came June's voice. "Betty what's wrong? Who's awake?"

There was a split second of a split second of silence as June's mind caught up.

"He's awake?!" June shouted at Betty through the phone.

"Yes!" moaned Betty. "And I don't know what to do!"

"I''ll be right there!" shouted June. "Don't do anything!"

"What do you mean don't do anything?" shouted Betty at her older sister. "He just fainted!" She took a breath. "I think..." she added.

"What?" shouted June. "What happened?" then, her voice dropped from a scream. "Never mind. I'll be right there. Did you call an ambulance?"

Her sister's modulated voice brought some control back to Betty and she dropped her voice too.

"No, I didn't call an ambulance. Do you think I'm crazy?" her voice rose. She clenched her teeth and took a breath. "He just fainted when I told him how long he's been sleeping. I have to get back to him. Frannie's with him. He may wake up any second. Bring some clothes with you. And hurry!" she finished, viciously punching at the button that cut the call off.

June stared at the phone in her hand, now dead. Clothes? Bring some clothes? It clicked in her mind. Clothes for their father! She didn't have anything for a man. She'd have to stop somewhere and get something. The idea of doing that was just unbearable. He was awake! She had to see him now! She ran for the sideboard where she knew her keys were lying, and then out the door, not stopping to lock it.

The first moment June realized something was wrong was when she felt the heat on the soles of her feet. She had been sunbathing on the patio out back, where she could wear the bikini that she wouldn't have even thought about wearing in public. She had bought it on impulse, one day when she was feeling like she was getting old. She sagged a little these days, despite the fact that she still ran a mile every day and did forty sit-ups every night, not counting Jazzercise classes she went to religiously. She wore spandex to those classes, and men looked at her as she walked to and from the parking lot. That made her feel good, but looking at her aging body in the mirror once she got home had made her feel ambivalent.

She had stood in front of the mirror, in the impossibly small "swim suit" she'd brought home. It was clearly incapable of supporting her breasts if she actually went into the water in the thing. The narrow strip of bright orange cloth that covered her pubis didn't cover the fluff of dark brown hair that sprouted from the sides. Still, as she stretched and turned, she didn't look anything like her fifty plus years. She had decided she didn't look a day over forty-five. But she wouldn't wear something like this in public. Oh no. Never. Still, she kept it, carefully shaving her mons so that she didn't look ridiculous. She loved wearing it on the patio, with its high, cedar privacy fence.

Her daughter, Gidget, had reacted like any daughter would the first time she saw her mother in the bikini.

"Mother!" she had snorted. "What in the world were you thinking?"

June had bristled. Gidget could wear something like this at the pool with no problem, and it rankled her.

"I was thinking," she said to her daughter, "that I might get a little sun in the back yard! But don't worry your pretty little head ... dear ... I won't go out in public and embarrass you!"

The hurt had been obvious in her voice, and Gidget had been contrite.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just old fashioned or something." she said, trying to undo the hurt. Her own life was messed up enough that she had no call to criticize others.

"Or something." June had grumped.

On the other hand her granddaughter, Rebecca, had been like a bright light in a dark room when she saw June in the bikini.

"Wow Grandma, you look hot!" she had said.

"Thank you dear." said June. "Though you'd look much better in it than me."

"Well, I'm not bringing my boyfriend over here if you're going to be wearing that!" said the girl, who had just graduated High School and was spending her last summer at home before going to college.

"Oh?" asked June sweetly. "You have a boyfriend now? Tell me all about him."

Becca laughed. "Well if I did have a boyfriend, I sure wouldn't let him see you in that suit. He'd dump me in a heartbeat!"

"You're sweet." said her grandmother, beaming. "I'm going to have to get you another graduation present."

Becca had laughed and then gone on about her business, which was to lie out in the sun with her grandmother, in a swimsuit that was remarkably similar, at least in how little it covered.

Now, as June hopped across the hot concrete sidewalk toward her car, she realized she was wearing that very suit, and she was out in public ... barefoot! She came to a jarring halt and, in a half second of indecision, almost turned to go back into the house. But the idea of waiting even a few more minutes to see her father ... awake! She couldn't stand that thought, and darted for the car. She'd borrow something from Martha to put on.

Betty went back to the bathroom and opened doors and drawers, looking for something like smelling salts, or even something strong smelling that wasn't intended for her purpose. There was some Vicks Vapo Rub around somewhere. Maybe that would do. What if he didn't wake up again!? What if the stress had put him back into whatever kind of sleep he had been in all these years? She had to settle for a bottle of Listerine. That would knock somebody out from three feet. Maybe it would wake him up. She heard her granddaughter's soprano voice speaking rapidly and intently, though she couldn't make out what she was saying. She hurried out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

"And you kept sleeping all the time, and Grandma and Great Aunt Martha - that's whose house this is - and Great Aunt June took care of you, and Becca and Val and I helped sometimes, and we read to you and told you stories and talked to you and stuff..." She broke off as Betty came into the room.

Bob was awake again, staring at the girl, rapt with attention, his mouth open, his head now lying on the couch arm as Fran has obviously been telling him all about his life as a terminally sleeping man.

Fran took a deep rasping breath. She had talked so much she was panting.

Bob's eyes broke away from the youthful face who had, in the space of perhaps five minutes, told him a significant portion of what had been going on for as long as she could remember. Those eyes went to Betty, who froze in mid step, the bottle of Listerine held helplessly in her hand.

"Frannie?" she gasped, wondering how much damage the girl had done with her outburst. Then her brain realized he was awake again.

"Daddy?" she gasped again, switching her attention to Bob.

Bob blinked. Contrary to Betty's fears, the machinegun delivery by this young woman next to him had so captivated his attention, as she rattled off her description of his physical condition for ... apparently ... fifty years, that he just listened, fascinated by the story. His mind grappled with the details, but the girl's delivery was so matter-of-fact that he couldn't doubt that she believed what she was telling him. His brain cramped a little at the concept that what she said was true, especially since that meant the woman standing across the room must be ... Betty ... his two year old daughter.

"Betty?" he whined.

Betty unfroze. Whatever the damage, she had to take action.

"Daddy?" she said soothingly. "I know this is hard for you to understand, but I can explain everything. You've been asleep for a long time Daddy."

Bob swallowed. This was too bizarre to contemplate. The analytical part of his mind nudged his consciousness and wanted to be heard. If true, what they were telling him would account for the changes he had seen. Things would change in the house over fifty years. Strangely, that comforted him. While the idea of sleeping for fifty years was pure insanity, it did explain some of the equally insane things he had seen, like the changes in his house.

His house.

His and Valerie's house.

"Where's Valerie?" he croaked, wishing he could drink something. His mouth was suddenly cotton dry.

Fran misunderstood. "Val? She's probably still in bed. She likes to sleep in on Saturdays and..."

"Frannie!" barked her grandmother.

Both of the other people in the room stared at her.

"He's not talking about your cousin." said Betty, again fearful that what she was going to have to tell her father would damage him terribly.

Fran still didn't understand. She wasn't used to thinking about her great grandmother, since she had never met the woman.

"Frannie," said Betty. "Go get your ... go get him something to drink. Hurry up now!" she said urgently.

Fran bounced up like she had springs in her legs and loped off toward the kitchen, obeying her elder as she had been taught to. It was while she was pouring a glass of Coke that she puzzled out who he had been asking for. She almost dropped the glass as it hit her that his wife was gone.

Back in the living room Betty sat down next to her father. She put her free hand on his arm.

"Daddy, you were asleep for fifty years." She swallowed. "Mom ... wasn't."

Sorrow crashed down on Bob. Her meaning was clear. His beautiful Valerie was gone ... dead while he slept for some reason. His heart swelled to a throbbing lump in his throat and tears filled his eyes. Suddenly he was sobbing and grasped at the woman next to him ... the woman who claimed to be his baby girl ... the woman who had aged fifty years since he had last held her in his arms. She hugged him fiercely, putting little moaning kisses on the top of his head and murmuring sounds of sorrow along with him. He couldn't get the image of his young wife out of his mind. He remembered her telling him to sit in his new chair while she fixed his favorite dinner, her smiling face bright in his mind. The thought that he'd never see that face again was agony and it struck deep in his heart.

He slumped against his ... daughter. She was his daughter ... wasn't she? Her warm body pressed against him, her hands fluttering up and down his back and one arm as she made little sounds of consolation for his loss.

It was her loss too, and they grieved together.

Eventually the pain diminished slightly, and his mind came back to the present. Having his daughter's arms around him ... despite the oddity that it was ... was comforting. His mind suddenly returned to his awakening moment, with this woman in his arms sitting naked on top of him.

He jerked away from her, astonishment on his face.

"Betty?" he rasped.

Her smile was wry. "I know ... it's hard to believe. I wanted to wait and give this to you in little bites, but Frannie let her mouth run as usual."

"You're my daughter?" he moaned.

She nodded, smiling wider now, glad that he seemed to be coping with the idea.

"But in there..." he waved a hand toward the upstairs, "when I woke up..."

Betty blanched and then flushed furiously as she realized he was remembering what they had been doing when he woke.

"We've ... uh ... well you see..." she stuttered. "Martha and June and I ... we had to take care of you when Momma ... went." She stopped, her throat tightening. "Momma took care of you that way." she finished in a blurt.

Bob closed his eyes, searching back in his memory for Valerie's voice, yearning for those memories to surface. Betty stayed still, unsure of whether to say anything or not. Fran walked into the room and Betty put one finger to her closed lips. Fran stopped where she was, uncertain what to do.

Bob's face took on a smile as the memories he searched for trickled into his mind at first, then surged as his wife's voice whispered in his mind. He did remember her voice. She had talked with him and he couldn't answer her for some reason. She had begged him to wake up. He remembered feeling her body against his in his dream ... not a dream, he realized now, but a strange reality that he still didn't understand. But that meant that his dream had been real. She had stayed with him ... all those years ... loving him and talking to him. He remembered her hands on him ... all over him ... lovingly stroking his body. He remembered her picking up his hands and pressing them to her breasts as she rode him, like his daughter had been riding him when he woke.

That snapped him back to the present like a splash of cold water, and his eyes opened. He looked at this strange, but now familiar woman. He didn't have to close his eyes to remember her voice. This time hadn't been the first time she'd mounted him. Not by a long stretch.

And there had been others too. Martha and June. She had said they took care of him when Valerie died. Some of those other voices he remembered must be theirs. They had done the same things with him that their mother had, lovingly, and for year after year after year as he was helplessly asleep.

Part of his mind rebelled at the taboo acts they had performed. But another part realized that they had saved the spark of consciousness that had remained in his sleeping body. Their love and attention had kept him alive ... sustained him like food and water would have.

Food and water.

He hadn't eaten in fifty years.

"I'm starving." he announced suddenly.

Betty looked shocked for a second.

"Yes! Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" She frowned. "We can't take you out like that." she said, glancing at the loose towel in his lap. "I called June and gave her the ... um ... news. I told her to bring some clothes for you."

"I don't have any clothes?" asked Bob, raising an eyebrow.

"Come on Daddy." said Betty. "You didn't wake up and didn't wake up and didn't wake up and you didn't need any clothes. Come to think of it I don't know what Mamma did with your clothes. Maybe they're in the attic."

"Nope." chimed Fran. "We've been through everything up there and I don't remember any clothes."