She frowns in confusion then takes a sip of her tea.
“Mom still had to fulfill her contract with the Army. She visited when she could, or we’d go to her sometimes. Once Grandpa was in the nursing home, it was easier to make those trips because we didn’t have to babysit him.”
“They’re still married?”
“Yeah.” I hitch my hip against the counter, getting more comfortable. This is the most we’ve talked yet and I like it. “Once the last of my brothers went to college, Dad moved to D.C. to be with Mom. He splits his time between here and there.”
“I just assumed…”
“Everyone did. What happily married couple chooses to live apart, right?”
“Is your grandfather still alive?”
“No, he died when I was about fourteen.”
She blows out a sigh. “Why didn’t you guys go back with your mom?”
That was a question I always wondered about until I finally asked.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she hurriedly says. “It’s none of my business.”
“It’s no secret. They decided not to uproot us. Mom had just got assigned to the Pentagon and we had friends here, lived in a good school district, and they thought it would best for us to stay and not start all over.”
“Wow, they made a lot of sacrifices for family.”
“Isn’t that what you do for family?” I knew it was odd that they choose to live like they did, but it worked for them. “Look at what you are doing for your grandmother.”
“I’m simply moving in with her. There’s nothing sacrificial about that.”
Was she in denial, or simply sugar coating the situation? “It’s not going to be easy.”
“I know,” she finally admits. “But, if she wouldn’t have taken me in when my parents died, who knows where I would have ended up.” She takes another sip. “It’s now my turn to take care of her. She’s all the family I have.”
“Your dad’s mom, right?”
“Yeah. Mom was a foster kid. I know nothing about her biological family.”
With that, she picks up her coffee and walks back to a room down the hall. Clearly the conversation is over. Maybe it just got too hard for her. At least she knows she can count on me. I want her to know that she’s not alone, but I don’t think she’ll trust in that until I prove it. I want us to be friends. Actually, I wouldn’t mind being more than friends, but that isn’t what she needs right now. She needs someone to lean on. Someone who understands. I hope I can be that for her.
Twelve
The tenderness and understanding from Cole is so unexpected that I’m not sure what to think. And he gets it. At least some of what I’m dealing with as far as Nana’s concerned. Is it dementia or Alzheimer’s? I wish I knew. I used another vacation day and took Nana to the doctor on Friday. By the time we got into the examining room, an hour after her appointment time, she was frustrated and irritated. She wanted to leave, wouldn’t listen to reason, and refused to answer the doctor’s questions. When I mentioned that she’s getting a little forgetful, she yelled at me. Told me not to lie and to take it back. When his eyes met mine, I knew he understood.
I would have remained back to talk to him in private but Nana stormed out of the office. The doctor did call me a bit later with his concerns. He suspects it’s dementia that could or could not go into Alzheimer’s and prescribed some medications that may help slow the process. Every patient is different and he’s honest in that there’s little that can be done. He scheduled her for some type of brain scan, but they can’t get her in for three weeks.
Nana then refused to take the meds this morning, insisting that she didn’t need them. I’ll try again tomorrow, but if she keeps refusing, I might start hiding it in her food liked I used to have to do with my dog.
Why is Cole being so nice? He didn’t have to volunteer his truck or stay and help pack up books. Before Alyssa’s shower I would have assumed he was just after another conquest, but now I’m not so sure.
He’s being a friend, when we were never friends before. And, he knows what I’m going through with Nana. I could use a friend like him right now. I just don’t get why he even cares. I was nothing to him and he probably forgot I existed until I needed my bag back and had to endure his lecture on safety.
He called me Jenna and it’s been five years since we were in high school. Had Dylan told him my name or did he really remember me?
I shake my head. It isn’t worth thinking about. It doesn’t matter why he’s here. I’m just glad he is. I’m just as sure that it probably isn’t anything more than friendship. Hell, Dylan may have asked him because he owns a truck and it’s as simple as that.
I can hear Cole boxing books in the living room. We aren’t even talking, not that we could without yelling, but I like that he’s here. He hasn’t turned on music or the TV, just boxing and here I am in my bedroom with little left to do. The stuff that’s still out are things I need and will only get packed the day I actually move, which I can’t even think about doing that until I make room for my stuff. I tried cleaning out my old room this week. Whatever I threw out the day before was back in my room the next day. I’ll just have to start putting the stuff in my car and getting rid of it that way. Otherwise I could spend days removing the same stuff over and over.
This entire process is so exhausting – mentally and physically. All I want to do is lie down, curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but I can’t. There’s no time.
As that isn’t an option, I go into the kitchen and pick up where Dylan left off.
“How’s it going?” Cole asks.
“Okay. I just didn’t realize I had so much crap.”
He laughs and starts taping up a box. “Try finally being able to clean out a house that someone’s lived in for thirty years. My grandfather kept everything and wouldn’t let Dad or us kids throw anything out. That place could have been an episode of Hoarders when we all lived there.”
“Like Nana’s locked room.”
He straightens and looks at me. “Locked room?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I haven’t had a chance to really get in there and I’ve only seen it once. Boxes and garbage bags practically stacked to the ceiling. Nobody is allowed in that room. I’ll probably have to go through it while she sleeps. Tackling a little bit at a time.”
“What all do you think is in there?”
“Who knows, though I suspect the coffee pot is.” One of the many mysteries of what’s going on at Nana’s house.
“Why?”
“It’s gone. Not in the garbage and she insists it doesn’t work anymore.”
“When’s the last time she used it?”
“I’m not really sure. It was there on Saturday and gone on Tuesday. Nana drinks at least two pots of coffee a day and I just bought it for her last week because the other one had broken.” I begin wrapping plates in newspaper.
“Did she break the other one or was it just old?”
My head is shaking as I look up at him. “She used powdered sugar instead of coffee and then complained her coffee was white.”
He frowns in confusion.
“I don’t know,” I answer before he can ask. “But, I showed her how to make coffee again. The woman has been making coffee since before I was born and suddenly doesn’t remember how. Hell, when I was in high school, I avoided her until she had her first cup. Not exactly a morning person and addicted to her caffeine. Then, practically overnight, she forgets how to make coffee.”
“One of the signs of dementia is they forget how to do things they’ve done for years.”
“At least I have my Keurig. She can’t screw that up, right?”
“If she can’t figure out how it works, she’ll probably insist it’s broken too. Or using things that can destroy the machine.”
“Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.” I look at my favorite beverage-making appliance. “It’s going back in the box. I’ll buy another cheap pot. Maybe if I’m making the coffee,
we won’t have any more broken machines or powdered sugar coffee.”
My phone starts ringing and I grab it. It’s Nana. “Hey, Nana.”
“Where are you?”
Am I supposed to be somewhere? “Home.”
“Come get me.”
I’m confused. We did her shopping this morning and I spent a little bit of time at the house boxing more stuff. We didn’t have any other plans. “Why?”
“For the thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing.”
She’s growing frustrated but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Oh, you know.” She grumbling and I can’t understand her. “Let me get it.” I don’t know what she’s getting. “This thing.”
“What thing?” Sometimes trying to figure out what Nana is talking about can be the most maddening thing in in the world.
“Tonight!”
“Tonight?”
“Yes,” she says as if I finally understand, but I don’t. “Come get me.”
“There’s nothing tonight.”
“Yes. There. Is! That bid thing.”
What bid thing? The auction! The invitation’s on her refrigerator and we’ve already purchased tickets. That was before I realized how bad things were.
I should have tossed the damn invitations. Nana’s gone for the past five years but I didn’t think she’d remember what it was. She always wins a bid and has made the poor firefighter work his ass off around the yard, especially in her flower gardens. I can’t imagine what she’ll do at the event and I’m kind of afraid to even take her. “That’s next week, Nana. Not tonight.”
“Are you sure?” She sounds confused.
“Yes, I am.”
“Shit.”
Nana’s been cussing a lot more than she did when I was a kid. The woman has no filter on what comes out of her mouth. Actually, I think that filter disappeared about two years ago. I just wasn’t living with her to notice it was completely gone.
“I’ll bring dinner by tonight, okay.”
“Okay.” She sounds disappointed, but I can’t move the auction up a week just so she can have something to do.
“Where did your grandmother want to go?” I ask Jenna after she puts her phone away.
“She thought the auction was tonight.”
“Thankfully, it isn’t for another week.”
“Thankfully? Don’t you want to participate?”
“Oh, it’s for a great cause and I’m all for helping Baxter raise funds, but the idea of strutting down a catwalk and having people bid on me isn’t something I ever thought I’d be doing.”
“You didn’t last year?”
“Just started at the department, like that week, and the guys had already been chosen. Or volunteered.” I stop and think, remembering how a few of the guys felt. “Or forced.”
“Some have to be forced?” She seems shocked that anyone would.
“Not to do the volunteer work. The guys are all for that. The whole being auctioned bit is another matter entirely.”
She laughs. “You might not like it but I can assure you that many of us thoroughly enjoy the night.”
“You’ve been before?” Hadn’t she been away at school the last five years?
“Since it started, which was what, five years ago? I come back and go with Nana, and wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Maybe she’ll want to go out after or maybe we can go together? Some of the guys are married and their wives go too, so I don’t think there are any rules about it. “How about if I take you and your grandmother, then maybe you and I can get a drink after. It ends early, right?”
“Usually, but I can’t.”
Shit. Maybe I should have waited to ask her out again, but I really thought I had a shot. She didn’t kick me out. We are talking. Maybe she just doesn’t like me. But, she doesn’t really know me.
“I have Alyssa’s bachelorette party after. So, as soon as I get Nana home, I’ll be doing that.”
My gut relaxes. So, she’s only rejecting me because she has other plans. Maybe I have a shot.
“Since you can’t have a drink with me next week, how about we take dinner to your grandmother and then the two of us grab a bite?” I try not to hold my breath, but can’t help it. If she tells me no again, should I really keep asking? A guy, me especially, can only take so much rejection.
Jenna tilts her head and studies me like she really needs to think about it. “Sure. Why not?”
Yes! Finally!
Thirteen
It’s early evening and Cole and I just left Sullivan’s after putting in an order for Nana’s dinner. We are strolling around the square until it’s ready to be picked up.
“So, is Dylan your date to Alyssa’s wedding?”
I laugh. “No. He thinks he can handle this on his own without some relative trying to introduce him to all the single ladies in attendance.”
“That’s why he takes you to all those weddings?”
“Yep! And there have been a lot of weddings this year.”
“His family is huge.”
“Well, when both parents have seven or eight siblings, there’s going to be a hell of a lot of family.”
“A lot of aunts playing matchmaker,” Cole guesses.
“You got it.”
He’s slips his hand around mine and continues to hold it while we stroll. It’s really nice and my fingers get a little tingly. We cross over to the other side and I notice a new shop and stop before the window.
“What?”
“This is new.”
“I guess.” Cole shrugs.
“Do Over”. The sign in the window says they’ll buy tired and boring clothing, then remake it and sell it. I immediately think of Jada. Mag told me that if I could find a way to create a fashion design curriculum that stuck with the overall concentration of the school, she would consider changing Jada’s area of study.
I push the door open and wander inside.
Cole frowns but follows me.
I go through the racks of clothing. There are sizes zero to twenty-four, and not one skirt, dress or top looks like anything else. A young woman that can’t be much older than me, or maybe younger, comes from the back of the store, carrying some kind of material that she’s sewing on. “Can I help you?”
“Did you make this clothing?”
She smiles brightly. “Yes.” Clearly she’s thrilled with her work.
“So, people bring in their old clothing and your remake it and resell it?” I need to clarify what I read.
“That’s the idea.”
My mind is churning. Instead of material, I could go to thrift shops. That would certainly be in Baxter’s budget, right? It isn’t as if Jada needs to be taught how to sew. She’s got that covered. She just needs to build a portfolio.
“How did you come up with this idea?”
“It’s simple, really.” She puts whatever she’s working on aside. “We were poor when I was a kid. I couldn’t afford to wear the labels so I did the opposite. I shopped at places like Salvation Army and Goodwill, bought what worked and remade it.”
A little rebellion. I like that.
“I was into fashion, I just couldn’t afford it.”
Fashion was never my thing, though I was careful not to be out of style. Nana provided anything I could ever need, but it was a middle class world for me. And, I really didn’t need much in high school. If I had spare money, I headed to the bookstore, not the mall.
“So, you just decided to open your own shop?” She could really be the right influence on Jada, if she checked out and passed all the testing and background checks Baxter required. If she was even interested.
“No, I went to design school and actually worked in the fashion district in New York for a very short time.”
This is almost too perfect. I will certainly come back and talk to her when I have more time. Even if it’s to only find out the best way Jada can present herself to the colleg
es. But, why is she here? I mean, New York fashion is huge and she now has a shop of remade second hand clothing.
“I can tell by the look on your face you have the same question as everyone else. How come I’m still not there?”
“Well, yeah.”
She laughs. “I quickly found out I’m a “Pretty in Pink” girl trying to work in the “The Devil Wears Prada” world.”
I have to laugh at the comparison.
“I loved it, don’t get me wrong, but it isn’t who I am, I guess. There are a gazillion designers that want to create for the rich, famous, tall, and skinny. My heart is creating for the everyday woman and making it affordable. Making clothes for people who want something unique but only have a budget for necessities.” She holds up a dress she’s working on. “Designing for people who have to wait for things like after Christmas sales if they want something new.” This garment is probably a sixteen or eighteen, if I were to guess. It looks to be about the size I used to buy for Nana, before she started losing weight.
“Good for you.” This whole time I’ve been talking to her and I never asked her name. “Do you have a card with your hours?”
“Sure do.” She pulls one from the top counter and hands it to me. “I’m Blair and if you don’t find what you are looking for, you can always describe what you want and I can see what I can do.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure and come back.”
I don’t think it had anything to do with Jenna suddenly having a desire to shop. As soon as we’re back on the sidewalk I grab her hand again. “What was that about?”
She glances at me out of the corner of her eyes. “What do you know about Baxter and the kids?”
“I know what nobody is allowed to talk about.”
She turns her head more fully and studies me, a question in her eyes.
“When I was hired on the department, we went through training that was Baxter specific, so we’d know what kind of issues that could come up.”
“Good.” Jenna relaxes and we continue on.
“But, I am curious about one thing.”
Shadows of Memories (Baxter Academy) Page 8