The house is falling apart, he said. Gutters need replaced. Cracks in the windows. A kitchen sink that doesn’t drain. Carpet smells like  cat piss.

A smoke cloud rose above him. The old man sat in a red velvet recliner puffing on a pipe filled with Prince Albert. Lawrence Welk was leading the band on television. Bobby and Sissy danced in colorful costumes. He smiled and pointed at the screen.

I was a dancer, he said out loud. We used to dance all night long, he laughed. Then I would walk you home and kiss you goodnight. Remember?

The Lawrence Welk singers were now performing Cry Me A River. All of them on stage singing. He hummed along.

Remember this one? He asked. His thin lips mouthed the words. The old man looked over at the couch and saw no one there.

Where’d you go? No one responded.  Are you in the kitchen baking a pie? My favorite? Rhubarb?

He picked up the empty tin Prince Albert can to his left and knocked his pipe on the inside of it. He then picked up the half-full can on his right and refilled the old pipe that he’d had for years. Bought it when he quit smoking KOOL cigarettes. A cough and a sputter always came after the first puff.

Maddie? Maddie? Where did you go? Come on now. Don’t be shy. He walked down the hallway and knocked on a closed door with a flowered wreath on it.

Come on now, the old man knocked harder, turning the door knob. I’m coming in. I’m coming to get you. On the count of three. One, two, three.

An empty rocking chair in the corner. A queen sized bed with quilts on it. Black and white photos on the chest of drawers. Pictures of him in his Navy uniform. She with a rose in her hair. A closet filled with clothes. Cobwebs. 

I could’ve swore she was here, he said. Could’ve swore.