Prodigal Puzzle

The family reunion was an annual mid-summer event. All the available Wilford and Wilford-adjacent aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses, and offspring gathered at the farm in Holly Hill to cook out, play games, reminisce, gossip, and argue. New babies were presented; the absence of the few who’d passed on would be noted. David had no way of knowing that his absence had been noted for some years now.

“Hey, y’all!” he shouted out the driver’s-side window to the front porch crowd as he pulled up in his old Corolla. The shocked expressions, followed by excited shouts and a few folks running toward him were odd. He always showed up on the second day, didn’t he? In the same old car, with the same old face? Another odd thing: he did not recognize some of these people.

“Where the heck have you been!?” Uncle Pick, whom he DID recognize, asked as David got out of the car.

“I been home in Branson, working! Where would I be? David was a card dealer. He liked people, he liked the night life. He wasn’t a drinker, he was a glad-hander and happy to run the games. He’d just turned 34 and wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep it up, but so far, so good. His girlfriend worked at the same casino, but she’d begged off attendance at this family event.

“It’s been eight years, Davie! We thought you were dead!” Uncle Pick DID look a lot older, David saw. But his statement made no sense.

“I was here last year!” David shook his head and grinned at Uncle Pick, trying to end this prank. His Aunt Marty came up now, and put her arms around him. She had tears in her eyes. “What the heck is going on, Auntie?” David always enjoyed feeling the love, but this was different.

“Davie, you haven’t shown up for eight years,” Cousin Rocky, now at his elbow, said. “WHY? Where were you?!”

“I know. You thought I was dead,” David said, confused and irritated. Rocky had been a teen the last time David had laid eyes on him. Now he was a man. He was a lot thicker around the middle, and his hairline seemed to have receded. A young woman came running up with a scowling baby in her arms.

“This here’s my wife, Candy, and this here’s Bo! But WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, Davie!?” Rocky was on the verge of male hysteria.

“Where’s Ma?” Right now David really needed to know. Maybe his mother could explain.

“Ma Wilford passed on, Davie. Just last year! We tried to find you!” Candy was speaking. Baby Bo began to wail as if he were taking up mourning again, as the death was so recent. Had Bo even been born yet when Ma…?

“I brought some gifts,” David said, pulling away from these crazy relatives to open the back door of his car, where bags of casino souvenirs and interesting food products had been riding. He handed the bags to Rocky, shut the car door, and stood facing away from the house for a moment. He heard the shouts of footballish activity coming from behind the house. He heard what must have been Sarah Dean, his nephew Seth’s little friend, playing her guitar and singing on the far end of the porch. Her guitar-playing had improved, he noticed. The thought of his mother being dead--that was too much. Why hadn’t anyone told him she was ill?

He wanted to just crumple to the ground and stay there awhile, but another familiar voice cried, “Davie!” It was Paula Mason, his girlfriend from high school. She’d never married, and had always assumed she was invited to these annuals. David had once hoped she’d settle for his brother Jonathan. Where was Jonathan? And why did Paula look so— different? The tale of Rip van Winkle flashed through his mind.

“Davie. You’re back. I can understand you not wanting to hang out with us losers for a while. But I’m glad you changed your mind!” Paula kissed him on the cheek. There were gray streaks in her hair.

“How did Ma die? Where’s Jonathan?” David asked her. Paula took him by the hand and led him to a shady spot under two old pecan trees. As she did so, he started to remember something. Hadn’t he attended a magic performance after hours at the casino? Hadn’t he volunteered to get up on the stage and be hypnotized, or something of the sort? Was he just now waking up? That was impossible. He sat next to Paula on the cool grass and looked at her helplessly as she began to answer his questions--the ones that COULD be answered, anyway.

— Macoff