The Hoarder

by Donna Poole

He refused to talk about it.

He didn’t even want to hear about it.

“Listen, honey,” Charlene said to him, “it’s a disorder, a real condition. You need help with it, and I can help you. Please, let me help.”

Orville grunted and frowned. “And where’d you hear this? One of your whacky Facebook friends? I don’t have any ‘disorder’.”

“My Facebook friends aren’t….”

She took a deep breath. She refused to get sidetracked. Not again. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she and Orville were both eighty now, and if they didn’t get the job done soon, it wasn’t going to happen. She tried again.

“I read it on the Mayo Clinic website. This disorder can run in families. You know your mom had the same problem.”

He got that look in his eye. “Leave my mom out of this!”

She knew when to back away. She really didn’t want to argue, but this was important. She whispered a silent prayer for wisdom.

“You remember how when you had cancer you had to have that chemotherapy? It was painful, and you hated it, but it helped you. Now you’re in remission.”

Another grunt. “I could hardly forget chemo. But what’s that got to do with this?”

“Well, I read on that website that what we’re about to do can make you angry, and it can be emotionally painful, but we’re going to clean up a dangerous situation, one that can be a fire hazard or cause falls. It’s unsanitary and might even cause diseases. And you need help to tackle it, just like you needed help with the cancer.”

He turned back to the old western movie he was watching on the television. She just stood there, waiting.

Finally, he clicked the remote, and the screen faded.

“Couldn’t we tackle this job later?”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for years. Come fall, we’re moving out of this big house and into that little one-bedroom apartment we’ve been on the waiting list for. We have to get this done!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your tailfeathers twisted. I’m coming.”

He struggled out of his recliner and grabbed his cane.

Together they went through the side door into his domain, the garage. They hadn’t been able to park the car in there for decades. Charlene had shoved aside enough clutter to make room for a chair, and she guided him to it.

“Sit here, and I’ll bring you things, honey. You decide whether to give them away or throw them out.”

“Throw them out! There’s nothing in here that should be thrown out. It’s all good stuff.”

Charlene glanced at the pile of old Reader’s Digest magazines that reached from the floor almost to the ceiling. She blinked away a tear. Crying wasn’t going to help.

Where can I begin? What’s in here that he isn’t going to feel he might need someday?

Charlene grabbed the closest box to her. It was filled with old, dust covered light bulbs.

“How about these? Throw them out?”

“Put them on that shelf over there. Those are bulbs I’ve saved from other cars, turn signals, back up lights. Never know when I might need one.”

“Honey, there’s no room on that shelf.”

“Save them somewhere.”

Charlene started bringing him jars and cans of nails, screws, nuts, and bolts.

“Keep those too. Never know when I might need one.”

“How many of these have you used in the last five years? We’re only going to live here a few more months. Where will you put any of this stuff when we move to that one-bedroom apartment in the fall? You won’t have a garage there or even a shed.”

He looked around hopelessly. The garage was packed floor to ceiling with old, warped wood, sleds, broken bikes, jars of nails, screws, nuts, bolts, mildewed cardboard boxes, metal pipes, broken power tools, newspapers, magazines, and that was only what he could see. Who knew what was under it?

He tried making a feeble joke. “You know that old tom cat that ran off five years ago? You don’t suppose he’s under all this do you?”

“I hope not!”

“Smells like he could be, doesn’t it?” he asked. “I really loved that cat.”

“I know you did, honey.”

“I really am a hoarder, aren’t I?” he asked in a voice so low she could hardly hear. “I don’t think I can do this.”

And then Orville did something Charlene hadn’t seen him do since his mom had died twenty years earlier. He buried his face in his hands; his shoulders started shaking, and he sobbed.

“I wish it would all just disappear. I can’t decide what to do with it.”

Charlene put her arms around him and held him close. “Never mind. We’ll work something out. How would you like to get away and go to Lake Michigan for a few days?”

Lake Michigan was their happy place, but they hadn’t been there in years.

He looked up at her. The tears on his face wrenched her heart. “Where would we get the money?”

“I have a little I’ve been saving. Let’s go in the house. You take a nap, and I’ll make the arrangements.”

Orville fell asleep almost instantly. Charlene felt uneasy about his color; he looked so much the way he had when he’d had cancer.

Life’s too short for this. He can’t change the hording any more than he can his eye color, not now. And only God know how much I love this man.

She went to another room where she wouldn’t wake him and started making phone calls.

Her eyes widened when she discovered how much the cost of hotels in Muskegon, their favorite town near the lake, cost now. She moved her search inland an hour from the lake; they could still drive and spend the day in Muskegon. The hotel clerk told her it was a good thing she only wanted Wednesday and Thursday nights; weekends cost triple and were booked the rest of the summer.

What in the world? Where do people get this kind of money?

Next Charlene called their six grandsons, wonderful young men. “It’s a mess,” she warned them. “Bring gloves. Bring boxes and bags for garbage.”

“Is it really that bad, Grandma?” Their oldest grandson chuckled. “I always wondered why Grandpa never let me in his garage.

“It’s worse than bad.” She sighed. “I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you. And even with the six of you working, you won’t be able to get it all done in the few days we’ll be gone, but I’ll be grateful for whatever you can do.”

The time at Lake Michigan was wonderful. They felt almost young again. They ordered take-out spaghetti from their favorite place, ate it sitting next to the channel in Muskegon, and watched the yachts sail out into the lake. They talked about what life might look like without having to keep up with a big house and yard. They held hands a lot, and Orville didn’t grunt or frown even once.

Charlene was a little nervous when they neared home. Orville had said he’d wished the mess would disappear, but how was he going to feel when he saw their grandsons carrying things out of his garage? How angry would he be?

They pulled into the driveway. There were no grandsons in sight. She was a bit disappointed.

I’m sure they did their best. They have their own lives to live too. Even if they did just a little, it’s better than nothing.

“What are you doing?” Orville asked when Charlene pushed the garage door opener. They hadn’t used it in years.

To her surprise, it still worked. The garage door slowly creaked upward, and even from the car they could see the amazing transformation. The garage was empty except for the clean shelves that still lined the walls. The floor looked freshly swept and even mopped.

Orville raised his eyebrows.

“Our grandsons,” she explained.

He got out of the car and slammed the door.

Orville walked around slowly, inspecting his perfectly clean, totally empty garage.

Charlene followed him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

Please God, don’t let him be too angry.

“Well, well, well.” He chuckled. “Stay here.” Then he went through the side door into the house. After several minutes he returned carrying a plastic bag.

“Now I have room for these!” He began taking empty medicine bottles out of the bag and carefully lining them up on the shelves.

“Orville!” Charlene was laughing and crying at the same time.

He put his arms around her.

“Woman, be glad I’m a hoarder. We hoarders don’t throw anything away. Why do you suppose I still have you?”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his weathered cheek. “I’m the best thing you ever kept. And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They went into the house arm in arm smiling, but Charlene looked over her shoulder at those empty medicine bottles.

Enjoy your shelf life, because tomorrow you’re going in the garbage.

The End

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

All of seven of my books are available at amazon.com/author/donnapoole

Please follow me on Facebook at Donna Poole, author