by Cynthia Dane
“Get in the car, Rachel!”
She jerked at the sound of his booming voice. People stood on the other side of the street taking pictures of the shiny red and white Corvette on their phones. Zack, who had hopped back into the driver’s seat with his sunglasses on, flashed them a wide grin for their Instagram posts.
Oh, well. Rachel tossed her bag into the backseat and got in. The leather seat was more comfortable than it had appeared.
“You know where we’re going, right?”
“Fuckin’ Connecticut is where we’re going.”
“That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Only if I hated Connecticut.”
The ride was as smooth as the jazz tracks playing on the stereo. Rachel forgot what she was off to do as Zack expertly turned onto the expressway and drove half an hour into the countryside with only the wind to blare in their ears and the music to echo through valleys and mountain passes. When they turned off the appropriate exit, Rachel knew it would be at least another forty-five minutes before they reached the sleepy, rural town in which her mother lived.
She had chosen her mother’s memory care facility for two reasons. One, it came heavily recommended by her mother’s doctors as one of the top places in the area for residents dealing with dementia. And two, it was far cheaper than any of the places near the city. However, the distance meant Rachel only got to visit once or twice a year. It had also meant moving her mother out of the only apartment she had lived in for twenty years and selling most of her things to pay for one month’s rent. She had good insurance, but it didn’t cover everything.
The few things her mother kept were treasured keepsakes and two pieces of vital furniture: a pink and white chest of drawers from her own childhood, and a myrtlewood rocking chair that had belonged to Rachel’s grandfather. She knew that chair was priceless, both in worth and to her mother’s sanity. One resident had already tried to steal it. God only knew when they would try it again.
“Looks like a nice place.” Zack turned off the motor in the parking lot. The one-story facility overlooked a park on one side and a scenic lake on the other. The only other buildings in the neighborhood were single-family homes and a dollar store. I should pick up some things for Mom at the dollar store. Usually she gave the nurses a budget and hoped for the best. At least if she got things herself, she could feel like her money was really going toward her mother instead of a nurse’s pocket. “Do they take good care of your mother here?”
“Yeah.” Rachel had no complaints. The director always kept in weekly contact with Rachel to make sure she stayed abreast of her mother’s well-being, and they worked with some of the best nurses in the county. The food could have been better, but her mother probably didn’t care at that point in her illness. “You don’t have to come in. I’ll be about an hour, though. I could text you to come pick me up when I’m done.”
Zack shrugged. “It’s up to you. I don’t mind one way or another.”
“There’s a grocery store nearby if you want to get a snack or something.”
“If you want me to go, I will.” Zack lowered his hands from the steering wheel. “But I have to admit, I’m curious.”
Rachel sighed. “You really want to meet my mom, huh?”
“You’ve met my whipped dad and my angry mom. Seems only fair that I get to meet someone from your family.”
“She’s the only one I have left. I don’t have any siblings, and I never really had a dad.”
“Then let me meet her. For a few minutes.”
Rachel still hesitated before getting out of the car. “It’s best to keep the visit short.”
They checked-in with the receptionist in the front room. After they signed in – and stole some cookies from the front table – the receptionist punched in that week’s security keycode into the main door.
The smell of nursing home instantly hit them in the face. God, did Rachel hate this smell. Diapers. Medicine. Unwashed bodies that couldn’t stay clean. Tasteless food. The scent of her mother about to kick the bucket.
With any luck, she might remember who she was that day.
They bypassed the usual suspects, some of them new residents and others the same men and women Rachel had seen since she first admitted her mother two years ago. There was Mr. Graham, the ex-engineer who could barely pile mashed potatoes on his tenderized steak. Mrs. Mitchell couldn’t remember which clothes were hers, so she stole her roommate’s underwear and sweaters – and not much else. The nurses in their colorful scrubs were sweet as pie, but Rachel knew that they were thankful they could go home to their families at the end of the day and not have to take care of anyone besides their half-grown kids.
And then there was Diane Hines, the woman who had raised Rachel – and could barely recognize her favorite TV show playing at the same time every day.
“Hi, Mom!” Rachel forced a friendly smile while checking out how much more weight her mother had lost in the past few months. Skin and bones. The only food Diane would eat was Oreos and graham crackers. Rachel’s mother always had a sugar addiction, and it became absolutely unmanageable when the dementia took hold. While the house nutritionist severely warned everyone how bad letting Diane binge on cookies and candy would be, in the end, everyone agreed that if these were going to be her last years on Earth, she might as well eat whatever she wanted. Because she wasn’t going to eat anything else.
The woman with thin, silver hair and gaunt cheeks perked up the moment she heard Rachel’s voice.
The effect was instantaneous. Tears spilled from her milky eyes as she reached out toward Rachel and began demanding to be taken home.
Rachel stopped in her tracks. A nurse raced forward to help calm Diane down. Zack bumped into Rachel and apologized for not watching where he was going.
She had forgotten that he was there. Rachel was already shutting down every emotion she had inside of her. Dissociating was the only way she could deal with these visits.
***
Zack had not been prepared for what he saw inside the facility. He didn’t think anything could have prepared him.
He knew about these places. Had even heard the horror stories that they were where you came when your life was over and your family didn’t care what happened. Clearly, Rachel had cared. No wonder she moved her mom all the way out here. Things were cheaper here. That included this kind of medical care. It wasn’t state-of-the-art, but the nurses looked capable and everything was as clean as it could get.
That smell, though… it smelled like a hospital that nobody had cleaned up in weeks. The stench of urine was enough to make him politely look away when a nurse finally caught on that an old man in corduroy had soiled himself. He kept calling her Gloria even though her nametag said Celeste. The nurse did not correct him as she took him into his bathroom to help him clean up and change. Zack quickly learned that one did not argue about facts in a memory care facility.
That included with Ms. Diane Hines, who was convinced that Zack was Rachel’s boyfriend no matter how many times she claimed that they were friends. This was after Diane finally stopped crying long enough for her and her daughter to retire into another room.
Zack gave them some space. I shouldn’t have come in here with her. What had he been thinking? That this was a retirement home and not a medical facility? That he would see grandmas and grandpas playing shuffleboard and bingo and not combating the mid and final stages of dementia?
Had he even understood what dementia actually meant before now?
He found the secretary in the front room and did something he never thought he would do: he pried into the state of Diane’s residency.
Naturally, he posed as Rachel’s long-term boyfriend and did not expect the secretary – or the director, when she stepped out – to willingly give up that kind of information. Zack wasn’t married to Rachel, nor had these people ever met him before. But Zack knew how to crack through their tough demeanors. It wasn’t just his charms that got them to gradually open up. It was
what he did for a damn living.
“It’s very kind of you to offer funding for an arts program here, Mr. Feldman,” the director said after ten minutes. “But I’m afraid that your funds may be misdirected. I’m going to be honest with you. We don’t go through many art supplies because most of our residents can’t focus on it for more than a minute. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes art time acts more as a break for our volunteers and nurses than it does for our residents.”
“So then what do you think my funds would best be used toward? Do you need new equipment? A budget for more nurses?”
The director was taken aback. How often did a man as rich as Zack walk through the doors? Let alone a man willing to dump his money on them?
“I… Mr. Feldman.” The middle-aged woman folded her hands on her desk with an exasperated smile straining against her dentures. “I’m going to be honest with you. Out here, the number one thing our residents struggle with the most is paying their rent. Insurance only goes so far. These people never had many savings to begin with, unfortunately. And their children struggle in their own lives let alone paying for a place like this. We are a necessary facility, but…”
“I understand. Is Rachel struggling?”
The director jerked back. “Well, I… I can’t speak on that directly. I’m sorry. I’m sure you understand.”
She’s struggling. A lot, probably. Rachel was way too proud to ever ask Zack for money. She didn’t mind letting him pay for dinner, admittances to clubs, and even the occasional outfit that ended up on her body, but she would never, ever ask for him to pay for her mother’s care. Most of the families here probably had the same attitude. They all desperately needed help but had no one reliable.
Zack thanked the director for her candor and waited for Rachel in the lobby. When she appeared thirty minutes later, it was to take her turn in the director’s office. Too bad her mother weakly pounded against the door, tears streaming down her face.
“I’ll talk to her,” Zack told Rachel as she hesitated. How is she not crying too? It must have been some kind of magical resolve keeping her together. “You go on ahead.”
The secretary let Zack back into the main living facility while Rachel went into the office. Zack opened his arms to Diane for a giant bear hug. Diane declined. The fact she didn’t remember Zack already did not help.
“Oh,” she finally said, her tears suddenly gone. “You are Rachel’s boyfriend.”
He lowered his arms but continued to smile. “I sure am. She’s a great woman.”
“Yes. Woman.” Diane looked toward the door, her milky eyes suddenly clear. “Rachel’s a woman now.” She pulled a Hello Kitty keychain out of her pocket. “I was gonna give this to her because it’s her birthday soon. She’s gonna be in junior high school.”
Zack still managed to smile. “If you want, I could give it to her.”
“Who are you?”
He put a gentle hand on her bony shoulder. “Would it be okay if we sat down for a moment? I’d love to hear some stories about Rachel.”
Diane stared at him for a few seconds before shuffling away. She didn’t say anything when he followed her.
***
“How long have you been holding all of that in?”
Rachel had barely buckled her seatbelt when Zack spoke. “What are you talking about?”
“All of that. I knew your mother was in a home, but you made it sound like it wasn’t that big of a deal. Even now you look like you’d rather eat ass than go back in there.”
“I wanna go home. I appreciate you bringing me, but it isn’t that big of a deal.”
“How was any of that not a big deal?” Had they seen the same things? Zack wasn’t related to any of them! He hadn’t met Diane until that day. Had absolutely no emotional investment into her well-being. Yet he seemed to care more than Rachel did?
No, she cares. She cares so much that she’s shoved it all down.
“Never mind,” Zack said. “I’m sorry.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Hello Kitty keychain. “She wanted me to give you this, though.”
The plush keychain landed in Rachel’s hand. She stared at it for a few seconds before breaking down crying.
Chapter 26
The mid-August night was abuzz with breezes and the banging of drums. Zack had stepped out of Kansas the moment he handed the valet the keys to his Corvette.
When the emerald green and gold kurta showed up on his doorstep, Zack was beholden to going to Sita’s wedding. Silly me, thinking I was coming with Rachel. Zack had forgotten Indian Weddings 101. Rachel had spent most of her day with the bride, enjoying a lush henna session and swapping stories of what wedding nights were like.
Zack barely knew Sita. He didn’t know her groom at all. When Rachel sent him directions to the wedding hall, he assumed someone would be around to show him what to do and what not to do. Because if growing up rich had taught him anything, it was that saving face was the most important thing. Particularly in front of cultures that could be considered world economic powers. They need steel in India, right? When Zack turned down his father’s invitation for a small family dinner and told him why, he was shocked that Isaiah didn’t suggest he use the wedding as an excuse to network on behalf of Feldman Steel.
He received a text from Rachel swearing that she would be there in a few minutes. Zack hung outside the venue, wondering why Rachel hadn’t responded to the selfies he sent in this comfortable kurta. Did he get to keep it? He might offer to buy it by the end of the night.
The drumming grew louder. Security had cleared the street in front of the venue for the groom’s party to round the corner, the illustrious groom whom Zack did not know riding atop a chariot pulled by two of his whining groomsmen. They were flanked by a small posse of men banging the drums.
People on the sidewalk and inside the venue erupted in applause and shouted encouragements in Hindi. Or Zack assumed it was encouragement, since there were smiles and claps aplenty. He joined in on clapping and hoped he wasn’t committing some terrible faux pas.
Just before the groom’s party arrived, Rachel appeared at Zack’s side, dressed for an Indian wedding.
That scheming Sita and her little sister Parvati had undoubtedly conspired to dress Zack and Rachel in complementing outfits. Zack’s deep green and gold-lined kurta went well against Rachel’s sapphire blue saree and the golden jewelry generously hanging on her body. Bangles, chains, and large hoop earrings embellished her hair and skin in ways that almost took Zack’s attention off the intricate designs covering her hands and arms.
“About time you showed up,” Zack said with a fake sigh. “The party’s starting and I thought I would have to enjoy it alone.”
“Sorry. I was at the mendhi ceremony all afternoon.” She showed off the spirals, flowers, and dotted lines on her skin. “It was girls only. Sorry.”
Zack looked over her outfit once more, taking in the way her subtle curves filled out the blue saree clinging graciously to her body. “You’re stunning in that. I hope you know it.”
Rachel blushed and turned her head away. “You don’t look so bad yourself. Surprised you figured out how to put it on.”
“Excuse me? It’s a shirt.” What Zack wouldn’t tell her was that he looked up instructions online to be on the safe side. Suuuure it looked like just a shirt, but with his luck he’d pull it over his head and discover some pocket, some strap that he never knew was there – and subsequently ripped. Best to err on the side of caution and have an embarrassing search string in his Google history. “Besides, you…”
The groom and his party arrived to the crashing of drums and the cheering of everyone behind them. People parted to give the groom in his red and gold outfit passage to the opening of the reception hall. Rachel frantically patted Zack’s shoulder to get him out of the way the moment Sita and her immediate family appeared in the hall.
The happy bride’s smile was as ruby red as the rest of her, the translucent saree swiping shades of p
ink and light red in the overhead lights. Gold hung from her ears, wrists, and nostrils. Beside her, Parvati wore a neon orange saree bedecked in gold sequins. Their mother likewise wore a bright amber that bridged the colors between her daughters. Tears fell from her cheeks as her daughter approached her groom with a garland of flowers in her hand.
“It means that they consent to marriage,” Rachel whispered into Zack’s ear. “Although if you ask my allergies they would have to be fake flowers.”
Zack could barely take his eyes off the exchange of extravagant flower garlands. “Where’s your hay fever now?”
“Hiding behind fifteen pills.”
She escorted him into the separate hall already filled with half a thousand people gathered to watch the nuptials take place. Rachel made sure to astutely point out that Sita and Parvati’s family had rented out the whole event hall, meaning they could have a separate ceremony in one room and the after-party in another. The way she said it made it sound like most Indian families didn’t have that much forethought, but Zack was already imagining his mother’s own parties taking place in a building like this. In fact, he knew that he had been here for galas and award ceremonies that drove him to the open bar.
Rachel warned him that the ceremony could take a while. It didn’t help that signs written in at least three languages asked guests to please use the restroom before the ceremony started, for the doors would be locked and nobody allowed to leave.
“What exactly are we signed up for here?”
Rachel hustled him into a folding chair in the middle of the hall. “With few interruptions, they might get it down to an hour. I hope you’ve brushed up on your Hindi and Sanskrit while we’re at it.”
Indeed, the nuptial ceremony was not translated into English. A plethora of aunties and uncles nodded along, while younger people twitched from cell phone withdrawal after the first twenty minutes.