by Ash, Lauren
“Just a little.”
Kip ate almost as quickly as she poured it, immediately requesting more in that high-pitched, demanding toddler tone.
“Here”—Jenny poured more—“enjoy it while I go give daddy his water.”
The suitcase was way too heavy to haul up to the bedroom, so Jenny just snatched up her toiletry bag and a glass of water and made her way up the three flights of stairs to the hex room.
“I’m outta breath.” She sat next to the lump beneath the covers and held out the glass. “Here. I have painkillers.”
“No, not yet.” Ron drank deeply. “I’m just dehydrated, though I wouldn’t mind my sunglasses.” He squinted and held one hand up to his eyes. “Do you know where they are?”
“In the car.”
He gave her a longing look.
“Okay, okay. I will go get them, but you have to bring my case up; it’s too heavy for me.”
“Yes. I’ll do anything you ask of me … in the shade.”
She laughed. “Anything, hmm?”
“Oh, come on. Help me out here. Throw me a limb.” He clutched at her arm, snuggled against her.
“But you’re not drowning.”
“I am. I am. I’m drowning in misery, in cheap wine. God, cheap wine!” Ron ran a hand over his face and groaned.
“In that case. I’m not sorry I didn’t have any.” She smiled.
“You’re lucky—that’s what.”
“Fine, I’ll get them. And then I’ll make you some pancakes.”
“Oh, God. Oh, GOD!” Ron hurtled up from the bed. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Hold it in. Hold it!” Jenny stared frantically around the hex room, looking for something, anything. “There’s nothing here, Ron. Hold it!”
“I can’t.” Ron leaned over the side of the bed and let loose.
“Oh, Jesus! Are you sure there’s no hex on this room?”
The only response from him was another unpleasant bout of heaving.
Jenny finally noticed that her morning sickness had passed. The irony.
* * *
The only thing to do was get on with the day. After a few sulky hours, Ron finally got up, showered, and ate some plain toast. Jenny, Kip and Charlie had already been to the beach and back again.
“We’re out of milk.” Ron closed the fridge.
“I thought there was a full gallon in there? I bought a full gallon.” Jenny sat on the blue sofa in the little living room, her back to the kitchen, enjoying the warmth of Kip’s body as the child napped on her lap.
“There was a full gallon, but now there isn’t.”
“That’s odd. Did you drink it?”
“No. That’s why I’m asking you?”
“You didn’t ask me anything. You just told me there’s no milk. And I didn’t have any today, so…”
“What happened to it then?”
She could tell by Ron’s tone that his level of annoyance was ratcheting up again.
“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I’ve been out.”
“But I thought I heard you downstairs earlier. You’ve been gone this whole time?”
“Yes, I have. It must have been a ghost.”
“That’s weird. I know I heard someone.”
“You have a hangover. You must have dreamt it. You’re the one who’s been here, lying about like a big heifer.”
“Heifer? Are you kidding me? I’m a heifer now. I took you out last night, and that’s what you have to say.” He raised his voice. “Heifer!”
“And you soaked two beds and puked all over the place, and I have to clean it all up.”
“Oh, Christ!”
“Shhhh.”
“No I won’t shhhh. I can’t believe you,” Ron snapped.
“I’m on vacation! What do you not get? I’m on vacation, and you have created work for me—more work than I do at home.”
“Oh, here we go.” Ron sat down in the rocking chair, facing her.
“Yes.” Jenny looked away and said under her breath, “Here we go.”
“Why don’t you get a job then? Then we’ll see how much you complain.”
“God, Ron! Why does it always have to come back to that? I have to get a job, now? You’re the one getting such a big promotion that I don’t need to work.”
“Exactly, you don’t need to, but you’re not grateful for it either.”
“Whatever! Screw you.” Jenny eased out from under their sleeping daughter and stormed off.
* * *
“So tell me? What are you majoring in?”
It was summer and it was hot. Jenny casually wiped a bead of sweat from her neck. “I’m going to be a CPA.”
Trees encircled them, the hot pine smell perfumed the air, the chirp of grasshoppers and birds was their background music.
“Nice.” Ron, in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, lay prone on the tiny blanket they shared. His feet dangled off into the underbrush and his absent-minded kicking had worn a small trench beneath them.
Jenny looked over at him, examining him. His skin was perfect. His body well built, although still slight. She wondered what he would look like older—more muscled, perhaps.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She hesitated, trying to think of something less personal—after all, this was their first date. Nothing came forth. “Nothing. You?”
He couldn’t help but smile. His eyes skimmed her tight pink summer dress and then flickered back up to meet her gaze. “Me?” He paused.
“I was thinking about what you’d look like older,” she confessed.
“Now why would you want me to be older? Didn’t you come out with me here because I’m younger?”
She flipped over, moved her elbows up to block the sun, or to cover her face—to cover embarrassment she couldn’t hide.
Ron took the cue. Rolled up next to her on his side, he put his arm over her waist.
“You’re too hot,” she whispered.
With that, he tried to kiss her, but she moved away.
“I don’t kiss on the first date.” Jenny propped herself on one elbow, on her side, and they both faced each other, inches apart.
“Can I be the exception?”
He looked so fresh, but he acted older. Jenny couldn’t fathom where it came from. She raised one brow. Ron moved his head in closer, holding his lips close to hers, but he didn’t do anything. She tilted her head just a little as he pressed his lips to hers. She had kissed many others, but it still felt like a first kiss—still tied her stomach in knots. He pulled back a little, still keeping his face close.
“I want you,” he whispered, and stroked her cheek.
They kissed again, this time longer.
The rest of their time in the woods, out in the middle of nowhere in the Cascade Forest, was innocent, although spent not saying much at all.
* * *
“I knew I’d find you up here.” Ron stood all the way back in the hex room as Jenny leaned up against the glass and regarded the view. “Careful on the glass there; don’t lean all your weight on it.”
She stayed put. “I love it up here. It’s like I’m all alone, and there’s nothing else whatsoever. I haven’t felt this way about a place in ages. I mean, I love our home, but you know—it’s just so much better out here.”
“You and Nana would get along very well.” Ron stayed where he was, knowing better, still hearing the undercurrent of anger in her tone.
“Look at all the people out there, walking along. I wonder if they all live here? Or are they just visiting? It’s impossible to tell; they’re all so pale. It must be hard to manage a tan in this weather.” She rubbed her arms. “I need to work on mine, badly.”
“You can go sunbathe. It’s not always so bad. When the weather’s good, it’s really good. You could be as dark as you want.”
“I don’t want to be too dark, just a bit of color.” Her tone eased a little.
“Come here.” Ron put his arms out. �
�I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
Jenny hurried to him, snuggled in to him. “Me neither. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Oh, honey. Come on, I’ll help you clean. We’ll get it all done, then we’ll go pay a visit to Nana.”
* * *
Busy Bee Meadows was a pale peach stretch of a building on the non-ocean side of Rocky Shores’ spit. It had water views, but only of an expanse the width of a medium-sized freeway. It overlooked more homes on the other side of the narrow inlet. Still, it had a better view than most, and it was always full, with low patient rotation.
“She’s been here how long?” Jenny asked as she parked the car.
“Years now. Maybe like five years or something.”
“But who takes care of the beach house?”
“Oh man—that’s right. I forgot about her. We didn’t have to break in.” Ron slapped his knee. “She has a good friend in town somewhere who has a set of keys. Her name is … hmmm ... it’s not coming to me. I’ll ask Nana. We’ll need to get the keys from her.”
“Well it’s too late for that. I barely slept last night with just some boards on the front door. I ended up in bed with Kip. Now, this woman, she can come in at any time?” Jenny asked, concerned.
“Yeah. Considering I can’t remember her name, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. Wonder what she’ll think if she finds out I nailed the door shut. What a mess. We’re lucky crime rates are low here. Anyway, remind me to ring the locksmith to come out and fix it.”
Jenny nodded. “Sure.” Her mind was elsewhere, thinking of the strangers that could possibly access her prospective home.
Ron pressed the buzzer. Waited. It was a longer wait than anticipated. He pressed again. “Hello?” he enquired of the intercom.
“Busy Bees Meadows, how may I help you?” came and old woman’s voice, slightly odd in tone.
“Uh, yes. We’re here to see Geraldine James?”
The tone increased in pitch, excited. “Oh, come in. Come in.”
The door unlocked with a soft click. The smell hit them with a fist.
“Jesus.” Jenny whispered, one hand to her nose. “What is that?”
A frail woman in a lavender dress greeted them and Jenny promptly gathered her manners and dropped her arms to her side.
Jenny had dressed up—dusk pink, tight-fitting skinny pants beneath a white blouse. Kip looked as cute as ever in a pink dress by Jenny’s side and Ron wore pressed black pants and a baby blue button-up shirt.
“Hi! My name is Marilynn, and you are?”
“I’m her grandson. Ron.”
“May I see your ID please?”
“Sure. Here it is.” Ron shook his license from his wallet and handed it over.
“Thanks! Follow me. This way.”
The old woman hobbled down a beige-tiled hall. The stench became stronger; Jenny once more covered her nose with her sleeve.
“It’s so good to see new visitors. Gerry hasn’t had any in quite a while ... well, Mrs. Coggington does come to see her weekly, but, you see, Mrs. Coggington has been laid up with arthritis these past few weeks. She had a hip reconstruction you see, and well … I did pay Mrs. Coggington a visit myself and took her some of those chocolates she likes. I know she likes them, because she brings them in for Gerry, although Gerry can’t eat them. This way now.”
“Thanks.” Ron was at a loss for words.
“Gerry just had surgery. She might not be able to speak yet,” Marilynn warned.
“Surgery?” Ron asked.
“Yes. They removed all her teeth.”
“You removed her teeth?”
“Yes, uh…” Marilynn paused before a door with the number 946 on it. “The last of her teeth had to be removed from decay,” she whispered.
Jenny and Ron’s eyes widened.
“Yes. You see, Gerry won’t let anyone brush her teeth anymore. We tried everything! She wouldn’t even let her favorite nurse, Sue, do it. Of course, she got an infection—deep down in the root. The dentist suggested all her teeth be removed, because soon they’d all be in decay.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ron whispered back, loudly. “She has no teeth at all. How does she eat?”
“I’m sorry.” Marilynn stared down at the linoleum floor. “I thought you would have known, being family.”
“Excuse us a minute.” Ron took Jenny by the arm and led her and Kip away, around the corner.
“What the hell?” He shook his head.
Jenny shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a place like this. Maybe they do this?” She put two fingers to her temple and rubbed. A slight headache was forming, along with a whiff of nausea. “Do we have to go back in there? What is that awful smell? It’s like something fucking died in here.”
“Shhhh, don’t say that. People may hear you.”
A nurse in magenta scrubs adorned with some ugly floral print passed them. Kip waved at her happily. She ignored the child; they all watched each other.
“Ron, seriously, I don’t think I can take this.”
“But it’s my Nana. We have to go in there! She may pass at any moment. I mean, Jesus—her teeth. She’s already lost her mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you.” Ron bit his bottom lip.
“What? Come on?”
He shook his head. “She has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh! ... oh.” In all their years together, Ron had never mentioned that. “Really?”
“Yes. It’s the family secret. I was hoping we’d go in and she might be lucid or something, but with this tooth thing, hell. I don’t know why my mother never told me about this. She knew we were coming here.”
“You said it’s the family secret; your mother is obviously ashamed or something.”
“What the...? Well, let’s go in.”
Jenny stopped him. “No. You go first. I’ll wait out here and come in soon. Is that all right?”
“That doesn’t sound like a question.”
It wasn’t so bad sitting outside the room waiting; Kip kept her company. The child swayed back and forth and fidgeted, sat up, got down, tapped on this, looked at that. Watching her, Jenny felt glad she was out here with the young, not in the room with the old and decrepit. Something about nursing homes gave her the creeps in general. She did not want Kip to see any of it.
The door opened and Ron stuck his head in. “She’s good. She looks fine, but she’s a bit confused. Come in, but I don’t think you should bring Kip. I’ll wait out here with her,” Ron said.
Jenny looked down at Kip, who was busy picking at something on the peach leathered bench. “Okay, I guess.” came her answer, despite the sense of terror welling up inside her.
With a deep breath in, and a fluff of her collar, Jenny opened the door to room 946. A lump lay still under the peach covers.
In the far corner was a small, rickety chair. Jenny took it, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. She was hiding, but from what or from whom she didn’t know. The pull-around privacy curtain was tucked back neatly behind the patient’s bed. Part of her wanted to go over there and pull it shut.
The lump moved.
Tightening up even more, Jenny closed her eyes, and said, “Gerry?”
There was no response.
“Gerry. I’m Jenny, your grandson Ron’s wife. He was just in here.” She opened her eyes to peek. Everything was still. The only sound was a dull ticking. Oh no, there is a clock in this room! Jenny thought. Who’d want to know the time in a place like this? This is no place for time. It’s a place to lose yourself in your thoughts, or in the ramblings of your failing memory.
There was a sudden movement, something at the head of the bed, just under the sheets.
“Gerry?”
It was killing her—the ticking; she couldn’t take it. Jenny tiptoed to the head of the bed.
“I know you’re under there. What are you doing under there?” She tried to sound nice, pl
easant.
There was a fleshy snap.
Jenny backed up. A single drop of blood seeped through the pale apricot sheet.
There was a whimper, then another snap and more blood.
“Gerry?” Jenny pulled back the sheet.
The shrunken, white-haired woman’s face was smeared with crimson as she picked the stitches from her gums. Jenny stared, horrified, not even seeing the fist that came out from nowhere and popped her straight in the gut.
“Jesus Christ, you punched me!” Jenny yelled. “What are you doing?” Shielding her abdomen, she backed up further.
Gerry licked her lips.
Jenny frantically searched the room for the nurse call bell. “It’s got to be here somewhere!”
Gerry stared vacantly and kept picking at the stitches.
“Stop that, Gerry! You’re hurting yourself. Here it is, Jesus Christ.”
Jenny pushed the big red button and left the old woman to her fascinations.
* * *
“My God, honey. I’m so sorry you had to see that. She was fine when I went in. She just sat there looking out the window. I talked to her, told her about our lives a bit. I just don’t know what to think about all this.”
Ron backed the car out of Busy Bee Meadows and Jenny’s panic subsided a little. Ron was thinking of only one thing. “Chinese?” he asked.
“I have blood on my blouse.”
Ron didn’t even look. “How’d that happen?”
“Your Nana punched me, right in the ... here.” Jenny placed both hands over her belly.
“She what?”
“I know, right.”
Ron shook his head. He was driving, but he wasn’t particularly aware of the road. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine; luckily she’s weak. I think everything will be okay. I mean in there. I think it will be fine.”
Ron accidentally crossed the yellow line and then swerved out of the path of an on-coming car.
“Watch out, where are you going?” Jenny looked back to check on Kip, who was just sitting there, staring out of the window.
Nervously, Ron shook his head. “Okay, okay. I just can’t get over it. When you left, the nurses tied my Nana to the bed. They tied her down so violently. I didn’t know they did stuff like that. I’ve only seen it in the movies—you know, when they put those insane people in padded cells and straitjackets. This is just a nursing home.”