Twice a Child

by Ann Elia Stewart

  Why did he have to make this decision?

  “I said ‘a’ home, Pop. You need the care.”

  The old man’s stare sent shivers up Eddie’s spine. Even his own movies didn’t catch him that way—the otherworldly creatures he’d pass every day at the catering table a regular part of his day. Pop’s eyes held it all: disbelief, vulnerability, revenge.

  “I hate you.”

  So, what the fuck. Let’s go for broke here, Eddie decided.

  “I told you, Pop. She was like that when I came back to the family room. She slipped out of her chair and hit her head on the edge of the table. I ran to the plant so fast, I couldn’t carry her—”

  “Not that.” His father dismissed his confession like so much nonsense, his tone sarcastic, annoyed. “I know you don’t want to carry that around for the rest of your life.”

  Was he back? Was he actually speaking to his father? Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, still unmade.

  “May I help you?” A disembodied voice floated through the room.

  “Oh, what? Did I set off an alarm or something?”

  “Yes, are you all right?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  A nurse rushed into the room immediately and lifted Pop’s wrist to check his pulse. She didn’t look like a nurse, but more like a playground supervisor with her khaki pants and bright pink polo.

  “I think I must have set it off sitting here.” Eddie flashed his most charming smile.

  “Yes, but I like to check our residents frequently, especially our new arrivals.”

  Pop grinned at her. As soon as she left the room, Eddie tried to pick up the thread of the conversation.

  “You understand, then? You realize it was all an accident? You don’t blame me?”

  His father started reaching for an invisible object between them, not unlike following a bubble floating in the air. “Matter of time anyway,” he said.

  Eddie breathed. He was astonished. “So, we’re okay then, Pop?”

  “Eddie.”

  He called him by his name.

  “Did I ever hurt you?”

  Eddie froze.

  “Well? I don’t got all day here.”

  “No more than most parents, I guess.”

  Pop continued reaching for an invisible bubble, readying his thumb and forefinger to pluck it right out of thin air.

  “Why did you go away?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “And now this is what you do to me. You wouldn’t even let me set the parameters.”

  Eddie caught the sob in the back of his throat. His chest hurt. His stomach rippled with nausea.

  Look at him. An old man who picks invisible objects out of the air, who crosses his legs with elegance. Who can hold a conversation using words like “incarceration” and “parameters” probably retrieved from some obscure cell in the left hemisphere of the brain that had so far resisted the life- smothering gunk.

  He had to leave him there. Alone, surrounded by strangers. He had to disappoint him. Again. Seemed to be his lot: the not-so-dutiful son.

  “We’ve been through all that. Can’t make movies in Lebanon. Or at least get anywhere with it.”

  Pop’s head bobbed to the side and his eyes rolled. Eddie had lost him to sleep.

  He strode over to the picture window, which opened to a small courtyard where three women in wheelchairs opened their blouses to the sun, their breasts sagging beneath long-worn brassieres. Yellow and pink daisies rimmed the brick patio.

  This place was the cream of the crop, salty as hell, but he knew he’d feel better about leaving his father to be cared for here. He was safe.

  Still, the ache in Eddie’s heart made him feel empty, powerless.

  He bent to kiss Pop on the cheek. To his surprise, the old man croaked, “I think I’m dying now.”

  “You’re dying right now?” Eddie checked his pulse, detecting a strong, steady heartbeat.

  “First, I’m going to take a nap.”

  Eddie smiled as he remembered that comment. But it was more the way his heart had felt, as if someone had reached in and squeezed it, rung it, hung it out to dry.

  Now that was heartbreak. That’s what was missing in the scene. Gut-slicing, vomit-inducing, terror-filled heartache.

  He had felt it only once before: saying good-bye to Rosemary before they closed the lid to her casket.

  thirty four

  At first, as Tina drove through Burbank, she thought the directions might be wrong. Eddie had told her that Golden Hills was no ordinary nursing home and that it was costing him a pretty penny (didn’t he always have to mention that?), but she hadn’t pictured this: a cluster of newly built homes in sandstone brick, each one encircled by a white picket fence draped in pink roses.

  The house had a doorbell.

  James answered it.

  “Am I at the right place?” She checked her directions and wondered if he remembered her. Events of that time when Grandpa wound up in the hospital after collapsing outside at the elementary school were fuzzy, but she did remember those eyes, that caramel skin. And the smile. Ambitious, too. Working two jobs?

  “You are most certainly in the right place, ma’am.” James ushered Tina and Joshua into the foyer, slate-tiled and featuring an oversized vase filled with day lilies, gladiola, and carnations, against a gilded-framed mirror fit for a country club.

  That’s what the house reminded her of, a clubhouse. Residents gathered in the living room where a gas-fed fire roared in the fireplace and overstuffed sofas and chairs formed a cozy pit.

  The slate floor of the foyer gave way to an eggshell tinted tile, and an Oriental rug. A massive coffee table perched atop the rug, and it was strewn with news magazines, a few hardback books, and a dozen or so word scramble books. Four white-haired residents, all wheelchair-bound, sipped tea from china cups. Young women dressed in bright, cheery smocks and khakis helped those whose motor functions were gone, blissfully chatting away with the group. A soft piano sonata filled the room. An aroma of fresh-baked cookies permeated the place. Fans shaped like plantain leaves circulated overhead.

  “Your grandfather is having his bath,” James said. “Can I interest you in some tea and cookies, milk for the young man?” He tickled Joshua’s stomach. “You can let him out of the stroller. Things are pretty safe around here. Even that rug is glued to the floor. Baby-proofed in reverse.” He winked at her.

  “Bring that baby over here!” A woman sipping tea from a straw called to them from across the room.

  “That’s Mary. She’ll be ninety-nine next month. She said next happy hour she wants a cigarette and a Margarita.”

  Tina tried wrapping her head around her surprise at the place, as well as the idea of a ninety-nine year old requesting a drink and a cigarette. At happy hour.

  “You have happy hour?” She unbuckled Joshua’s safety belt, careful not to bend too far over, hyper-aware of the length of her sundress. Everyone in L.A. wore dresses, so she’d decided to fit in a little, especially since she no longer had to wear that god-awful patch over her neck and shoulder. She wasn’t comfortable though. Give her jeans and a tee any day.

  James escorted her to the kitchen, off the main room, which possessed a clear view of the living room and its residents.

  “Now this is a kitchen.” She took inventory: a six-burner gas stove with center grill and massive copper fan. An island set low enough to accommodate wheelchairs. Appliances gleaming in brushed stainless steel. And a hutch made of mahogany, displaying china decorated with tea roses.

  The size of the room dwarfed the three of them.

  “You really can let the baby down, he can’t get into much,” James said. “Can I take him over to Miss Mary?” He nodded toward the living area.

  She was so comfortable with him. She had met him just once, at the most horrible time when Grandpa struggled against his restraints in a sterile hospital room. He had felt familiar then, too.

  “Sur
e but he’s quick. He’ll scoot away from you in a flash.”

  James plucked Joshua from her arms. The baby put up no resistance, as if he, too, felt like he was in the presence of someone he knew.

  “Help yourself to some tea. It’s in that kettle on the stove,” James called to her, then to Joshua, “Let’s go visit the elders. There’s Mary and Joe and this one’s Pearl. And over there, that’s Henry . . .” He raised the baby’s arm in salutation to each resident.

  The smiles the baby elicited settled her. All day she worried about this moment, afraid she’d find Grandpa bent over in a wheelchair, muttering to the wall alone. When Eddie had told her he had found a home for him, her heart had nearly stopped.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I wanted to help. I brought him out here. It’s only fair to let me be part of that decision.”

  “Fair?” He had raised his voice. She knew all too well where that led, but he steadied himself, a visible check in his emotions. To her surprise, Eddie managed to remain calm, even serene. “You, my dear, were coming off a morphine high while I looked into not one, but five—count ‘em: one-two-three-four-FIVE—skilled care nursing homes, as they are known in the lingo, and they all sucked. If it wasn’t for Ricki telling me about this Green House place, your grandfather would be stuck in some institution doing wheelchair volleyball with balloons and listening to golden oldies all day long.”

  The cookies were delicious. Shortbreads and chocolate chips, jelly-filled and chocolate frosted.

  Mary now held Joshua in her lap, feeding him a shortbread. The aide by her side kept careful watch over them both. Joshua studied the old woman, his dark eyes latched onto her bright white hair pulled back off her face with a cloth hair band the same color as her blouse, deep purple. The old woman kissed his forehead and made clucking sounds, each one punctuated by a look of great surprise in her eyes.

  A door opened off the main living area down a long hallway.

  “Your grandfather’s bath must be finished,” James informed her.

  “How often—”

  “Three times a week, our elders receive a full whirlpool bath. The other days they get wash-ups.”

  “Is this a nursing home? It sure doesn’t seem like one.”

  James laughed—easy, natural. She decided she loved his dimples, two flanking his full lips. His hair, worn in dreads, was pulled back into a thicket at the base of his neck.

  “Welcome to the twenty-first century, missus!”

  “Oh, no, it’s not ‘Mrs.’ anything. I’m not married.” She felt a little flush of embarrassment. Did she look that old? “You can call me Tina.”

  “Tina it is! And I know you already know mine.” He made a great flourish of pointing to his name tag.

  “I didn’t need the tag, I remembered you from the hospital. Do you work there anymore?”

  “No, when I heard about an opening here I snapped it up. Funny thing is the pay is less, but the work is so much more gratifying. And I get to indulge my passion for cooking. In this kitchen.”

  Joshua started to squirm in the old woman’s arms.

  “I think he needs a change.” Tina rescued the aide from having to deal with the baby and the old woman, but no obnoxious odor came from the baby. He simply wanted to be let down.

  James had it covered, pulling out brightly colored blocks and a few toy trucks from a cabinet. “We keep these here just for the children who come to visit, and there’s quite a few. Mary has seventeen grandchildren, ten greats, and four great-greats. I spotted a wooden train set the other day I’d like to add.”

  “Brio?”

  “Yeah, I think that was the name of it. Works with magnets, no sharp edges. Henry over there might enjoy it, too, right Henry?”

  Henry only looked as old as Eddie, but his head lolled to his right side and his hands and arms were withered into a permanent claw. At the mention of his name, his eyes brightened.

  “You like trains, my man?”

  “Yes.” The word took several long, contemplative seconds to emerge from his lips.

  “There. Look how that boy fits right in,” James said.

  Joshua busied himself with the blocks as if he knew they were there for his pleasure, the new surroundings already old hat, and the white-haired people surrounding him a ready-made audience. He would lift a block or a train and display them.

  “Green!” Mary exclaimed.

  And Joshua snorted his approval.

  “Red!” A man in a baseball cap would offer, and Joshua would pick out another toy to wave at them.

  “Tell me more about this place,” Tina said.

  “Let’s go see Frank’s room and I’ll tell you all about it,” James said. “Amy, can you keep an eye on the boy while I give Frank’s granddaughter the tour?”

  “Oh! You’re Frank’s granddaughter! What a sweetheart of a man. He asked me to run off with him to the farm the other day. Said he wanted to paint me,” Amy said. “You two go ahead, I’ll make sure the baby’s okay. He’s having a great time. Little actor, that one. Go see Frank’s room—I think you’ll like it.”

  Grandpa sat dutifully in his chair as another young woman, Joann, quietly explained that she was lathering his face so she could shave him. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be daydreaming.

  Tina looked around, his room as spacious as the one he had shared when he was in rehab, but this one was all his. His bed, able to be raised and lowered just like in the hospital, was made with a green and gray plaid bedspread. Large plump pillows in matching shams decorated the head. A wingback chair was nestled in the corner by a large picture window overlooking a field of wildflowers.

  Grandpa faced the mirror of his dresser, walnut or oak, Tina couldn’t determine. The floors were the same eggshell tile as the living room and kitchen.

  “Every elder gets his or her own bedroom, and you can see it’s equipped with the standard necessities: the pull cord and the hospital bed, a small lavatory,” James said. “Hey, Frank. You have a visitor.” He gently placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder.

  Grandpa emerged from his reverie.

  “Hey, kid. Wondered where you got to.”

  She was amazed. She had no idea in what condition she’d find her grandfather, or whether he would recognize her at all. Why, he looked like she could take him home.

  “He’s had his meds about an hour ago,” James said.

  Tina let the aide finish Grandpa’s shave and then threw her arms around him, careful to turn her injured side away.

  “Oh, Grandpa. I really missed you.”

  He felt stiff beneath her embrace, but he slowly raised one arm and patted her softly.

  “I missed you, too, kid.” His voice rose barely above a whisper.

  As she backed away from him, he looked alarmed. “What happened here?” His brow furrowed into the familiar mask of worry he wore throughout their cross-country journey.

  “Just caught on a piece of equipment at the hospital.” She lied. “I have a job now, Grandpa. Still a nurse, but now I’m a nurse in EL-AY. Took care of Remy LeGrand’s hand the other day.”

  “Who?”

  Tina laughed. “This actor who drinks too much. He crashed his car. He was lucky he walked away with only a broken hand.”

  He started to hum.

  “You getting me out of here then?”

  She was surprised to hear that; she had already made up her mind to hand in notice and try to get a job at Golden Hills.

  “Why would you want to leave? This place is pretty cool.”

  “It’s not home. And I lost Mamie.”

  Tina pulled up a chair. “Well, you know I think she might have helped Eddie find this place—”

  “What are you talking about? She’s back at the other plant, and they have her doing piece work. I tried to rescue her, I kept telling them she doesn’t know how to do that kind of work, but they wouldn’t listen.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “They wouldn’t let me see her. Next thing you know, I’m being set up in t
his fancy-schmancy place and Mamie’s still back at that other place working her ass off to afford it.”

  Tina and the baby stayed through supper, a light meal of turkey club sandwiches with raspberry sherbet for dessert.

  “The big meal is at noon,” James said. “I made roast beef.”

  “And, boy, was it ever delicious!” Mary chimed in.

  All but one of the elders needed help eating. Tina cut Grandpa’s sandwich into tiny squares and fed them to him much the same way she’d present Joshua’s food. He’d try to bring his hand to his mouth, but often the bread slipped in his grip. By the time his hand reached his mouth, he may have had a piece of lettuce, a blob of mayonnaise, and a strip of turkey left.

  Mary’s food was puréed. Henry could still eat solid food, but couldn’t hold anything.

  Even with the wheelchair-friendly dining room, Tina marveled at the ease of the home. If it had not been for the lift technology discreetly installed on the ceilings and the low counter and table, the house would have easily passed for a family home.

  “That’s the whole idea,” James told her as they took Grandpa outside for a stroll around the block, James pushing him and Tina pushing Joshua in his stroller, sound asleep from all his shenanigans of the afternoon.

  “Green Houses are a new concept. There are only around thirty-five of them up and running across the country—a new approach to elder care. Let’s face it, our population’s growing older and not only is there a shortage of beds in traditional care, but people do better in a non-institutional setting.”

  A jogger ran by. Golden Hills was located in the middle of a residential community in Burbank.

  “Why are they called Green Houses? Seems like everything is called ‘green’ today,” Tina said.

  “It’s to make you think of sunlight and plants and outdoor spaces. The total opposite of a traditional nursing home.” He checked on Grandpa. “He’s asleep, too. Want to park under that willow over there while they snooze?”

  They steered their charges toward a huge weeping willow, and satisfied that both Grandpa and Joshua were resting comfortably, sat together on one of Joshua’s receiving blankets.