by Ritter Ames
“No, I had to pass. My son is in town, well, in Los Angeles. He’s only here for a few days. Plus, Larry—Devin—is due back by Friday, no?”
She shrugged. “Possibly. Visiting friends?” She was checking out Sabrina and Miss Dolores. Both had stopped talking to pay attention to our conversation. I felt compelled to introduce them. Hated that part. Was never sure what to say to make everyone feel important.
“Oh, ladies, let me introduce you to a bona fide detective. Florian here is with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department.” I paused for effect. “Homicide Division.” I watched two pairs of eyes staring. It never failed. Maybe because Florian didn’t look like the stereotype of TV female detectives. With her fresh face and cute smile, she appeared a lot younger than her forty- something years. I remembered the first time I met her and how surprised I was to find out she was working with Larry’s former partner.
Both Sabrina and Dolores rushed to shake her hand and started to ask questions. Florian shot me a withering look, and I gave her the sweetest smile I could muster. Well, my job was done. It turned out Florian had come to check out the place and discuss moving her father there for a two-week recovery period. I had no idea her dad had suffered a stroke.
Who was I kidding? I didn’t even know she had a dad living in Orange County. Larry never discussed work or former coworkers, so the only reason I was somewhat familiar with Florian was because she lived in Laguna Niguel and we occasionally bumped into each other. Certainly no thanks to Lawrence Devin, who made it his mission not to share anything even mildly associated to police work. Plus, he was officially retired. Except that only meant he wasn’t on the payroll. But he still breathed and bled the essence of law enforcement life. He was in Phoenix, Arizona, as a special witness for an old case.
While Dolores and Sabrina asked the same old questions women felt bound to ask other women working in such a male-dominated field, I had a great idea. “Florian, I left my car in the Ralph’s parking lot down on the PCH. Do you think you could drop me off on your way home, so my friend Sabrina can catch up with Miss Dolores here?”
There was a lengthy delay before she answered, “Sure, no problem. We better go now. I have to be somewhere by eight-thirty.”
Instinct told me she was lying, but I was as relieved to get out of there as she seemed to be. Regardless of how elegant, cheerfully decorated, and well-maintained the assisted living residence was, a sense of sadness permeated the place now that the lights had dimmed and the halls had grown still. Perhaps people watched television in their own rooms, played cards, or chatted? While they waited to die? Chills ran up my spine. My own sense of mortality calling.
Well, for an evening that started with such cheerful premises it had sure sent my mood from peak to valley—hell, more like off a cliff in a single bound.
I fastened the seat belt as Florian’s black Ford Fusion drove out of the parking area and down the narrow road. From up here, the view of the coastal lights and Laguna Beach under a full moon was breathtaking.
“I bet you’re thinking such a grand view is wasted on the old folks. Don’t you?”
Florian’s remark caught me off guard, especially since she was right.
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Most of their rooms face the hill, so they are looking at rocks and dry brush. But the lucky ones who are well enough to eat in the main dining room get the full effect. I hope my dad can be one of them.” The words were kind, the tone rather neutral. Maybe it came from her years of working among the worst facets of humanity. I fought the impulse to reach out to comfort her, and settled for mere words. “I’m so sorry, Florian. Had no idea about your dad. You know how Larry is… Is your dad able to walk?”
I sensed her nodding. “Yes and no. My father is a retired cop. While he’s recuperating I need to keep him in a place where he won’t be exposed to something that might upset him. Here most people are bedridden or in need of assistance. Hopefully, he will be in a quiet room, and when he walks around he won’t be picking up other residents’ bad habits. You probably think I’m a terrible daughter. The truth is, he was just kicked out of one place for getting into arguments with other recovering stroke patients. Not exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“Oh, one of those, heh?” We both laughed.
“At least your dad knows what’s going on. I feel so sorry for all the old people who have Alzheimer’s or who are at the end of their journey and their loved ones must trust strangers to care for them. I don’t know if I could be so strong. So trusting…”
“That’s a very good point, and even if the medical staff was the most attentive, there are so many people involved with the care of terminally ill or otherwise bedridden people. I can’t think about it. We see so many cases of criminal elderly abuse…it makes you sick, and you begin to question humankind as a whole.”
She waited until I started my Mustang, and then she waved and drove off …somehow I felt like our short drive had turned into a bonding experience. I couldn’t wait to tell Larry, or as Florian called him, Devin. Lawrence Devin, oh, how I miss you.
My house phone was ringing as I unlocked my front door. I nearly stepped on poor Flash who had left the comfort of the sofa to come and greet me. “Hi baby, did you miss Mommy?” Baby talking to the cat… “Hello…Lar... Oh hi, Kyle. Sorry. Larry usually calls around this time.”
“Where were you? It’s the third time I’ve called—was getting concerned. How come you’re not answering your cell?”
“My…oh, shoot. I turned it off—went to a performance with Sabrina.”
“What kind of performance?” My son, the actor.
“Some woman, Miss Dolores, she was dressed like La Llorona, you know, layers of gauzy fabric. You probably know a lot more about that old tale. Oh, and she read or, more like, recited to the people in the old folks’ home.”
“Wait, wait…you went to a show in an old folks’ home—your words—where some Miss Dolores was the performer, and she was dressed in gauze? Was she hot?”
“Oh, my God, Kyle, Dolores is way into her fifties. Her getup looked like it was made of old curtains and needed a good cleaning and… Why am I even bothering to tell you all this?”
He laughed so hard he snorted. “Well, I don’t have to worry about being upstaged, and Larry doesn’t have to worry about you finding someone else, unless you are into changing men’s diapers.”
“Kyle, that’s plain mean.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Had a lousy day, I was looking forward to unpacking, relaxing, seeing my friends—my mom. Instead, Carolyn is sending me for an audition. Have to fly to New York. So I won’t be having dinner with you tomorrow. I’m sorry. Maybe I need a new agent.” He sighed.
“You don’t mean it, do you?” I waited.
“I don’t know yet. But will after this audition. I’ll tell you more when I see you, and my phone is dying. Damn it. Sorry, sorry. I’m going. Love you. Say hi to Larry for me. Ciao.”
Flash had been patiently rubbing her head against my shin. Time to feed her before she decided to nibble on my ankle. I kept busy, feeding my cat, stacking the dishwasher, anything to avoid thinking about my evening at Silver Leaf Manor. Neither Larry nor I had any parents left, and on this night that felt like a blessing. Life could be so confusing, life and death. By the time Larry called from Phoenix, I had vacuumed most of the downstairs.
My vacuuming was to stress what a thermometer was to a fever. Judging by the cleanness of the floors, my temperature would have been 103… And that’s when the phone rang.
We talked about him coming back a day earlier. Best news of the day by far. He had only been gone a week, but it felt much longer. That was puzzling because we normally saw each other only once or twice a week. It was like being on a diet—suddenly you craved stuff you didn’t usually eat only because it was a no-no. We always want what we can’t have. Well, I had Larry in my life, and tomorrow he would be back in my arms. After the call I returned the vacuum to the closet. Te
mperature back to normal.
* * *
NEXT MORNING, I signed in at nine a.m. Being at the Mission on a Thursday felt weird. I had switched from my usual Friday to make sure I’d be available to pick up Larry at the airport, but now he was returning early and would be arriving at John Wayne this evening, and that was great. My schedule at the Mission was only until noon, and today I was assigned to work at the gift shop alongside Sabrina. Couldn’t wait to hear how the drink and catch-up session with Miss Dolores turned out.
Oh, oh. Sabrina was wearing her sunglasses…in the gift shop…at nine a.m. Perhaps last evening’s drinking party had been a smashing success…for the bar that sold the drinks of course.
“Hello, my dear.” I sneaked up on her.
She jumped and shushed me. Priceless.
“Lower your voice. I have a splitting headache.” She circled her forehead with both hands. Luckily we were the only people in the store. Not surprising, mornings were mostly for schoolchildren’s tours, and unless they were teenagers they weren’t likely to come in the gift shop for our overpriced crosses, ceramic sparrows made in China, and other imitation artifacts. The big spenders tended to show up on weekends, sometimes by the busloads, and often were visitors from faraway lands. The shop did carry a nice selection of locally made jewelry though.
“So what did you and Dolores do after I left?” I sprayed glass cleaner and wiped the jewelry display counter.
Sabrina shook her head, her lips frozen in a smirk.
“That bad, huh?”
“Why, why did I do this to myself?” she moaned.
“Should I get you some coffee? Aspirin?” She kept shaking her head. It must have been a lot worse than I thought. And I didn’t remember her drinking much the few times we’d gone out. Like they say—the company you keep. “How come you never mentioned Miss Dolores before?”
“Please, please don’t call her Miss Dolores. I hate that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not her name? What should I call her?”
“How about you don’t? It’s not like you two are going to be best friends—you may never see her again.”
“What happened? You two had a fight?”
“No. Look, Lella, I’m sorry. This is just the wrong place to discuss this. Maybe by the time I get off work I’ll feel better. Want to grab something to eat then? And I don’t mean happy hour. Stop smirking; I can tell you’re enjoying this.”
“I’m not enjoying this at all. I’ve never seen you in such a foul mood. What happened last night? And I’ll have to take a rain check on the invitation. I’m picking up Larry at John Wayne Airport this afternoon, so I’ll have to pass. Sorry.”
“You don’t look sorry.”
“My God, Sabrina, what’s with you? You better adjust your attitude before customers arrive. Honestly, I’ve never seen you sooo—negative. I can’t even find words to describe how you sound. Hope it’s just a fluke and you don’t mean it. By the way, where is this Dolores? Is she in town?”
Sabrina seemed to deflate. She went to sit on a bench we kept for the older spouses to rest while the mates shopped. Often it was visiting grandparents buying gifts for grandchildren back home. She removed the dark glasses, and her bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes looked like apple seeds in her bloated face.
“At my house?” Her voice was so low I wasn’t sure I’d caught what she really said.
“Did you say that Dolores is staying with you?”
“No. I said she might be at my house.”
“This is crazy. What’s the difference?”
She kept staring at her hands resting on her lap. “If I had invited her over she would be staying with me. I didn’t do any such thing. Not consciously. And yet she was there this morning, which made me wonder if she invited herself.”
“Were you so drunk you don’t remember what happened last night?” This was certainly not business as usual for Sabrina. We’d both gotten tipsy and all giggly once at someone’s bridal shower and had ended up asking friends to drive us home.
“You don’t understand.” She held my stare for a few seconds, and I saw tears welling. “I didn’t have much to drink. I feel like I’ve been drugged.”
“Oh my God! Are you sure? You think she—I mean, Dolores drugged you? Why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. This is crazy.” She sobbed once, and I had to control my impulse to rush over and hug her. I had to give her room, to let her talk. “How can I be sure? I don’t know what it feels like being drugged, and why would she do that? To spend the night at my house? Then again, all those old stories about her and the school principal… She always said she left on her own to avoid drama and disrupting other people lives, but maybe she was forced to and...”
“Sabrina, what are you talking about? Dolores? What school principal?”
She wasn’t listening. Her face had turned the gray of old statues exposed to elements for centuries. She put her hands to her mouth as if quelling a cry and jumped to her feet and ran out the door, heading to the bathroom. I hoped she made it in time. The last thing I wanted to do was scrape up vomit from old pavers.
Sabrina didn’t come back to the shop. She went home instead. Her daughter picked her up. I covered her shift, and by the time it was over I barely had time to rush home, feed Flash, and change from the vest and boots I used as part of the folkloric look for the Mission into regular clothes, then head to the airport to meet Larry. The whole day I hadn’t been able to get some of the stuff Sabrina had said out of my head. Who was this Miss Dolores? If I could get a last name now that Larry was back—
Stop it, Lella. None of your business.
Nonetheless I fretted about Sabrina’s health all the way to the airport.
The Southwest Flight from Phoenix had landed, and by the time I walked from the huge parking structure to arrivals, Larry and his carry-on were ready to go home. He was easy to spot and not only because of his height, but also because of the sense of confidence he exuded regardless of where he was or what he was doing. Maybe it was a carry-over from his years in law enforcement. After all, most people still addressed him as Lieutenant Devin.
Even after the years we’d been a couple, my heart did somersaults every time I glanced at him, and I would never take for granted that he loved me. Me, the little Italian widow with more moods than Baskin-Robbins had ice cream flavors. When he saw me, he didn’t quicken his pace, while I had to fight hard to control mine. I didn’t care if my driver’s license said I was over fifty, I still walked to the beat of my youth. He embraced me, and we kissed lightly. The scent of his skin and his aftershave made me tingle in all the wrong places. Wrong for now, but we were headed to his house in the hills, and I’d had that in mind when I’d filled Flash’s dish. Enough food to take her to the next day.
“Such a nice surprise to have you back a day early.” His arm around my shoulders felt wonderful. “Will you need to fly to Arizona again?” I asked.
His arm tightened a little, drawing me a bit closer. “Done, over. All turned out the way it was meant to be. I spent most of my time in downtown Phoenix. Didn’t even bother to rent a car. All I did was walk to court and back to the hotel. Oh, and I swam, a lot. Someone forgot to tell Arizona’s weather that it’s fall.”
“Ah. I was right, you’re tan. I noticed it but thought maybe it was the artificial light inside the airport. You look terrific.”
“I’m glad you approve.” We were in sight of the garage entrance when he stopped and kissed me on the tip of the nose. “Where are you parked?” His hand found mine, and he interlaced our fingers. “You want me to drive?”
“It’s up to you. You know how I drive—”
“Exactly.” He laughed and stepped away, knowing I would try to punch his arm. We knew each other’s moves and reactions so well. It was the pinnacle of comfort without the compliancy of predictability.
I unlocked the car then handed him the keys. “Did you get a nice visit with Kyle?” He put his carry-on in the bac
kseat.
“I didn’t even get to see him. Carolyn shipped him to New York for some audition. He wasn’t too happy about it. I’m trying not to pass judgment. I mean, I only know a little about show business. Plus, I obviously wanted to spend some time with him, otherwise I would have gone to Phoenix with you.”
“Go ahead, rub it in. I’m always second fiddle.” He started to pull on the safety belt then changed his mind, swirled in his seat, and kissed me. And nothing else mattered.
Ah, the magic touch of his hand on my knee while we drove toward his home. “Can you stay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Flash is set until morning. Are you happy to be home?”
“Of course, missed my bed, and you…I had Peter come by to water the plants and keep an eye on things. Plus, he counts on the regular paycheck. Didn’t want to have you drive all the way to Orange from Dana Point.”
“Guess who I ran into last night?”
“Last night? After I called you?” We approached his circular driveway.
“Oh, no, no. Before that. It was just strange running into her at that place.”
“Lella, seriously, who is she and what place?”
“Florian, your former colleague. Your partner’s partner. We met at Silver Leaf Manor after the show.” Unbelievable—he actually had the garage opener with him? He certainly did. Larry must have sensed my bewilderment because he looked at me with that bemused glint in his gray eyes. “What? I have more than one garage opener.”
“No need to get defensive, it’s just, I don’t know. You are so efficient—organized— sometimes it gets annoying.”
“Even annoying men need love.” He pulled me close and started to kiss my whole face, probably to shut me up. Instead, I got the giggles. Great. He let me go, sighing rather loudly in a comical way. “Sweetie, should I park your car in the garage?”
“Sure, that’s fine. Did you know about Florian’s dad?”
He was getting out of my Mustang, “Florian’s dad? What about him?”
“He had a stroke. Not sure when, but that’s why she was at Silver Leaf Manor—to see if the place was suitable for her dad’s recovery.”