Crossing the Street

by Campbell, Molly D. ;

  Bob’s room took a little time. She liked to discard her dirty clothing randomly all over the floor. I stuffed the hamper with all of that. One spotty black banana peel on the dresser. Ugh. Other than that, things weren’t too bad. Bob had started the Harry Potter series, and I put two of them back in her bookcase, pausing only briefly to read the first chapter of The Chamber of Secrets before catching myself and putting it back with the others. I straightened the antique quilt on Bob’s bed. It was one out of Ella’s hope chest in the attic. Yellow, orange, and blue log cabin pattern. A bit faded from many washings. Sitting on her pillow was the worn teddy bear that had passed down from Robert Bowers to his son Charles, and on to Bob. I picked him up by one grayish ear and gave him a little kiss, rubbed his nose, and put him back on the bed. “Take care of Bob, okay?” I whispered. “You know, when Ella and I aren’t around?” Then I picked up the framed picture of Charles as a stoic young marine recruit. The same one that Ella had downstairs. The tightly drawn mouth, the macho stare, the piercing eyes. The same face that stared out of every single portrait of every single recruit the world over. Fear masked as toughness. I told him, “Look. Since you, Teddy, and I are having heart-to-hearts, let me just say this to you, Charles: Be safe. Come home. They need you to return. Hell, I need you to come back here. I can’t keep this up forever, you know.”

  When Alex woke, we trekked to the Kroger for provisions. We were both dazzled by the health food aisle. I wondered if I should get a “Healthy Senior” supplement, but I put that one back on the shelf. I got yogurt for the probiotics, applesauce—because all old ladies like that, right? Alex talked me into getting Jell-O, and I also chose things that I thought convalescents would love: Yup, some pudding. Chicken soup, oyster crackers, and, of course, Velveeta. On the way home, I sang a lusty version of “We Are Family” to Alex, who drooled with enthusiasm. I looked at him in the rear view. D had rigged a mirror system that allowed the driver to see the baby—so clever. “Alex, honey. That was meant to be TOTALLY ironic!” Alex ignored me and gurgled.

  By the time we got home, everything was shipshape. My back hurt. Alex’s almond eyes were closed. I trundled him up to his crib, set the monitor, and carted my weary bones downstairs. I dropped down on the sofa for just a sec, to rest my eyes.

  Bob raced into the house at 3:40, calling “BECK! ARE YOU READY? LET’S GO FOR GRAN!” She stood in the hall, looking at me, crumpled up on the sofa. “Beck? Beck—WAKE UP!”

  Staggering into the kitchen, I reached into the cupboard, got out the Bayer, and popped a couple of aspirin, washing them down with a glug of water. I carefully rinsed out the cut glass tumbler. Ella had nothing that wasn’t just gorgeous, antique, and breakable. However, Bob drank out of the two Tupperware cups that Ella provided, early on. I preferred the antiques. Bob pounded into the kitchen after me.

  “I need a very fast snack.” She pulled open the refrigerator, leaning in to enjoy the cool. “Okay! I’ll have this apple half.” Crunching, she twirled on me. “Are you excited?”

  I took the plastic wrap out of her hand and dropped it into the trash basket under the sink. “Bob. Calm down a bit. Remember, your gran is still far from her old self. She is depressed.”

  “But I bet just being back home will make her feel much better. Plus, having Alex here will make her feel better, right?”

  I nodded. “But we have to be prepared, in case it isn’t. We may have to really nag her about doing her exercises and walking. They told me that she is supposed to do at least four laps around the house in the morning, and four in the afternoon. We are supposed to get her walking up and down the block by next week. They say she isn’t interested in doing that. Setting goals for herself. I have to admit, I am worried.”

  Bob finished the apple and set the core on the counter, frowning. “Does Dad know about this?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken with him. He is saving all of his minutes for your gran. But when she comes home, you will be able to talk with him when he calls, and maybe the two of you will be able to come up with a plan to get your gran back on track. And I bet he will call YOU on your new cell, too, once your gran gets settled.”

  Bob’s eyes lit up, her grin wrinkling the freckles on her nose. “I can’t wait to talk to Dad!” She thumped her heart with her hand. “That is a great idea! I will start thinking up some things! Let’s go get the baby!”

  Alex woke up graciously. I changed his diaper on the floor. Bob chose a bright blue tee shirt with a sailboat on it and a pair of tiny yellow footed pants. He looked adorable. Bob smooched Alex’s head. “Let’s GO!”

  As we approached my car, Bob, skipping happily, tripped over an uneven slab of pavement, hurtled forward and nearly fell down. I managed to hold onto the baby and grab Bob by the arm before her knees crashed into the concrete. She scrabbled to regain her balance, giggling loudly. “Oh, THANK GOODNESS. If I broke my leg, you would have to nurse BOTH OF US!”

  Bob thought that was hilarious. I thought it was horrifying.

  ▷◁

  We were greeted in the lobby of Oakmoor by the resident manager, April Lever, and the physical therapist, Mandy somebody—sounded like Ritzcracker, but I couldn’t be sure. They sat us down for a chat. Inauspicious.

  April, who looked bloated, but it might just have been her watermelon-bedecked scrubs, began. “Mrs. Bowers is not doing very well. She has lost five pounds since arriving at Oakmoor.” Could it be the pablum and other pureed crap they called food here, I wondered? “She also seems disinterested in her therapy, socializing, or even watching television.”

  Mandy Ritzcracker, who had a kind smile, dazzlingly white teeth, and a perm right out of the fifties, tried a more subtle approach—she patted Bob’s shoulders and cooed at Alex. “Ella is probably just unhappy being first in the hospital, then here—although we try for a homey atmosphere, I am sure Ella is very anxious to be home. I feel very hopeful that things will go better for her once she settles back in her own environment.” She handed me a sheet, which contained the instructions for care—no baths or showers (Bob had that one covered) for at least two more weeks, no stairs for six weeks, no driving, etc. A second sheet had a list of directions for Ella’s home rehab—the escalating laps around the house with the walker, practice getting in and out of a chair, how to help her into bed, etc. It looked challenging, due to what they were telling us about Ella’s state of mind. I handed them over to Bob, who looked them over a little dispiritedly as well.

  April stood, her watermelons billowing. “Shall we go and get your aunt?”

  “You mean Bob’s great-grandmother? Certainly.” I couldn’t get Ella out of that place fast enough.

  When we got to her room, Ella sat stiffly in a chair, her walker in front of her. As soon as she saw Bob and the baby on my chest, she smiled anemically. “Hello, sweetie. Bobby, I am so glad to see you! Hello, little one.” She glanced wanly in my direction. “I wish you didn’t have to see me like this. I am so sorry for putting you through all of this.”

  Her voice was barely above a whisper. Jesus. This woman needed to be at home with us, pronto. We needed to eat steak, spinach, and lots and lots of ice cream. I made a mental note to stock up on high-calorie, nutrition-dense foods. The stuff I had purchased was just not going to cut it. Of course, first I would have to Google “nutrition-dense foods.”

  April had pushed the bedside call button, and a very buxom nurse’s aide materialized. Her name, she informed us with a broad smile, was Honey. “’Cause that’s what all they patients calls me, anyway.” I liked her immediately.

  “Miz Bowers, let’s get you outta here, right?” And with two capable arms, she hoisted Ella to her feet. I tried to memorize her technique. Put walker on the side. Plant legs about two feet apart, for good stability. Hands not quite in Ella’s armpits, but nearly. Tell her to get ready, on the count of three. Count, and then HOIST. SMILE the whole time. As soon as Ella is upright, gr
ab walker. Slide it in front of Ella while stepping away. Okay. This was a procedure that would become second nature, but right then it looked nearly impossible.

  Ella stood, gripping the walker for dear life. Bob clapped. “Gran! You did it! Yay! I am so proud of you! And guess what? We have the house all ready for you, and Beck bought pudding!”

  It seemed to be agony for Ella to walk. Despite her grimaces, Honey kept urging her on. “You can do it, Miz Bowers. Just one foot in front of the other. The more you practice, the easier! The feet need to keep movin’!”

  We shuffled out to the lobby, and moved painfully out to my car, which I had left directly in front of the sliding glass doors under the Oakmoor portico. Honey looked at me and said, “She got to back into the car. Then twist her legs around. You help her with that. Getting out is easier. Twist them legs around and then help her out, just like the chair.” Honey demonstrated. First, she opened the passenger door. “Ella, just walk up like you know how to get in.” Ella minced to the open door. Honey slid the walker to the side, supporting Ella with an arm around her shoulders. “Now turn around, sweetie, and aim you’s ass at the seat.”

  Ella cried out in pain as she jackknifed into the seat, but she made it. Honey lifted her legs and swung them into the car. A moan from Ella. Then Honey bent to fasten Ella’s seatbelt. “See, sweetie? You can do this! Just keep up the practicin’! I’m gonna miss you!” She bent and kissed Ella’s cheek. “You gotta have faith. You gotta get better for this little granchile here. Now scoot!” She deposited the walker in the trunk and slammed it shut. She opened her arms and enveloped me and Alex in a hug. I didn’t want to let go. Then she bussed the top of Alex’s head, pinched Bob’s cheek and patted her wiry curls, and turned to go. “Don’t you come back here!” As she disappeared through the sliding doors, I wanted to run after her.

  On the way home, I said a prayer of thanks for the fact that Ella’s side entrance had no steps. We could get her in and out of the house through the kitchen. Bob provided the cheerful chatter from the backseat. Alex was thankfully silent. Ella kept her eyes closed the entire way home.

  When we landed in the driveway, I girded my loins for the disembarking. Bob went ahead and held the side door open. I hoisted Alex out of the car seat and buckled him into the Baby Bjorn. Then I popped the trunk and wrestled the walker out and pushed it to the passenger side. Ella opened the door, and I swung it wide. Planted in front of the open passenger door, I said a little prayer to the gods, and took Ella’s legs. “Now we have to pivot. Ready?”

  Ella pursed her lips and dipped her head slightly. She put her left hand on the dash and her right on my shoulder and began to twist sideways as I pulled her legs. She groaned softly. First maneuver, completed. Her legs were outside the car. We both breathed heavily. Alex burped.

  Bob cheered us on. “Come on, Gran! You can do it!” Bob managed to hold the door open and bounce simultaneously.

  “Now for the lift.” I braced my legs. “On the count of three, Ella. Ready? ONE, TWO, THREE!” I lifted from underneath her arms, Ella grunted with effort, nearly pierced my shoulder blades with her grip, but HOT DAMN, she stood!

  My walker maneuver was not nearly as smooth as Honey’s, but I managed to get myself out of the way and the walker in front of Ella. I thought the rest would be a piece of cake. Not that there was any inside—only pudding.

  It took what seemed like an hour. It must have actually been about five minutes. Ella just couldn’t establish any sort of pace with that walker. She had to take two steps and then rest. Sweat (I hoped it wasn’t tears) dripped down her cheeks. She puffed. She cried out twice. But she got inside. Bob and I gave her a round of applause.

  “I need to sit.”

  “Okay, Gran! We cleared out all the space in the living room! We pulled the comfy chair around so that you can sit and watch TV, and if you want to, you can read! Beck moved a lamp and a little table right beside your chair!”

  “No. I need to sit NOW.” Her face drained of color, Ella looked faint. She looked around for a chair. I pulled one out from the kitchen table and helped her lower herself into it.

  Bob rushed to get her a glass of water, but Ella waved it away. “I am not thirsty. I just need you two to leave me alone for a minute!” She pushed the walker away roughly, and it toppled onto the linoleum. Ella’s spindly shoulders shook, and she began to weep.

  “Bob, let’s give your gran a minute.” We left Ella alone and went into the living room. I unbuckled Alex and set him on the floor with a few toys. Bob sat cross-legged on the floor and put trembly little hands on her forehead.

  This little girl, who had worked so hard and hoped so high, was bewildered. She lifted her hands away from her eyes. “Why is Gran crying? Isn’t she happy to be home? Doesn’t she want to be with us?”

  “Oh, kiddo. Your gran is in pain, first of all. And she is very demoralized. We have to give her time, and we also can’t let her get us down. Remember what Dr. Lauren and all the folks at Oakmoor told us? That your gran is down in the dumps, but that this is understandable. We have to be the chipper ones. We can’t let her think that we’re as discouraged as she is. Even if we have to fake it. Understand?”

  Although I am pretty sure that she didn’t understand, Bob brightened. She drew herself to her feet and bestowed me with a high-five. Her flint blue eyes flashed with determination. “Gran! I bet you just need a snack!” And with that, she bounded back into the kitchen to load Ella up with pudding.

  A surge of relief washed over me, but of course then I remembered that I was temporarily responsible for one baby with very loud colic, one small girl with a past chock-full of things I didn’t even want to imagine, and one very frail—and at the moment very miserable—old lady. My soul, the one that floated around the room in times of severe stress, left my body once more. It looked down at me, cringing with apprehension on the chintz sofa. My soul got a migraine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  We established a routine. Ella and I spent the mornings at loggerheads. Polite ones, but still a clash of wills. The first morning, after Bob left for school and Alex had his bottle, new diapers, and a clean adorable outfit, I plunked him into his stroller and began pressuring Ella to walk around the block with us—for “some air.”

  Ella reluctantly stood, gripped her walker, and followed me onto the porch. I told Ella to stay on the porch with her walker until I got the stroller down the steps and put on the brake. I turned to start up the stairs to help Ella descend, but she was halfway back into the house, her progress slowed by the fact that maneuvering herself and her walker through the open screen door was problematic. I sprinted up the stairs, gently took her by her bony but determined shoulders, extracted her and the walker from the doorframe, turned her around, and pushed her gently to the top of the steps. This was a bold move on my part. They told Ella no stairs. But I felt that she had to learn how to go up and down the three wide steps of her front porch, or she might refuse to ever go outside. It was a gamble.

  It took me one second to realize that Ella, a walker, and steps were a no-go. I wasn’t ready to give up. “Wait just a sec.” Ella gazed witheringly at me and sighed. “Just stand here for one minute!” I sprinted down and pulled Alex out of the stroller, rushed inside to get the Baby Bjorn off the stairs where I had dropped it. I by this time was a Bjorn expert. I threw it on, fastened in the baby, who thought this was a fun game, and shot back onto the porch.

  “Can’t we just sit here and enjoy the morning?” Ella clicked towards a chair.

  “NO. You need to walk. They said you have to do this.” I took Ella’s hands off the walker and put them on the back of the wicker chair. “Don’t sit. Just wait here.”

  With the walker ready at the bottom of the steps, I took Ella by the elbow and we proceeded. “I am going to go down two steps. Hold onto both of my shoulders and step down.” That took about a minute for Ella to accomplish. “Okay, n
ow down the next.” After what seemed like a year, Ella was on her front walk.

  I could tell that this had exhausted her, but I was determined. “Let’s walk a half block, then turn back. I think we will go in the side door; it will be easier.”

  She did it. She grimaced the whole way, but she did it. When we finally made it back into the kitchen, she sank into a chair, pushed her walker aside, and proclaimed, “That was just horrible.” I gave her some Kool-Aid, for energy renewal. Ella tossed it back like a barfly. The rehab had begun.

  ▷◁

  I never thought I would say this, but having my newly separated sister back in town and ensconced across the street was not that bad. Before I knew it, a month had flown by. There was a tiny hitch: one month of absolutely no progress on the marriage front.

  Diana and Alex liked the park. There was a flock of sparrows there that Diana threw crumbs to. Alex absolutely chortled at that. We sat there one afternoon about five weeks after D’s arrival. The sparrows cheeped greedily, and we sat there, soaking in the sun.