“Not lately.” Bud had been in to drop off some stuff and say hi, but not to work. “I’ll go soon. I haven’t been yet.” He looked up at Clive, who gave him a hard stare. “I will. I’ve been busy with Ellie. But next week.”
“You spend all your free time helping a lady you hardly know, and you still haven’t been over to see poor old Bud?” Clive tut-tutted with his tongue.
“I don’t… not all my time. I help her a little, that’s all.” He wiped the counter and smiled at Clive sheepishly. It wasn’t really as if he hardly knew her, either. Clive was right, though. Ellie took a lot of his time, and Bud deserved some of it, too.
“You’re a good guy, Dan. I’m just giving you a hard time. You talk to her about that dog yet?”
Daniel snorted. “I swear she’s trying to pretend the dog isn’t there.” He explained what had happened when they got back from their walk. How she’d said she didn’t even like dogs.
Clive rolled bits of shredded napkin into pills and frowned. “Maybe she’s pretending. Or maybe she actually doesn’t see him. Like a delusion. Usually delusions mean seeing things that aren’t there, but you can probably delude yourself going the other way. I don’t know what you’d call that, though.”
Daniel hadn’t thought of it that way. “That can’t be it. He’s totally visible.”
A bell went off in the kitchen: Clive’s order was ready. Daniel went to get it. When he got back, Clive had piled up the entire napkin into a stack of little white balls.
Clive poured ketchup. “I saw this thing once, where they had a guy in a gorilla suit walking all over the place and nobody noticed it because they were so busy looking at other stuff going on. Perceptive blind spot, they called it.”
Blind spot. Daniel thought about it for a moment. “This isn’t like that though. I mean, she’s not distracted. There’s nothing else happening, the dog is sitting right there… she has to see him.”
“Dunno. Mind can do some crazy stuff. You know Betty Boop? That cartoon gal?”
“Sure.”
“There was this guy I read about who thought she was in love with him. Not like just a fantasy, but that she was a real live woman, who loved him so much that she had gone through a procedure to become a cartoon character… so that no other man could have her.” Clive took a bite of his sandwich and said it again, stressing each point by tapping his finger on the bar. “Became a cartoon… so that no other man could have her. And he believed this until the day he died. Said she talked to him every single day. Came to him in visions, and told him she loved him. Swore that she had done it all just for him.” Clive made an exploding motion with his fingertips and reached for another napkin. “The mind can do anything it wants.”
Daniel had heard similar stories. But Ellie? “Not Ellie. That’s nuts.”
“Anything it wants, Danny boy.”
He shook his head, but Clive was right. The mind could do anything. And regardless of whether she really didn’t see the dog or was only pretending, the effect was the same. No wonder the dog was always on his porch looking for attention. If Daniel hadn’t been putting food out every time he went over there, the damn animal would have starved. Or left, maybe. Run away. Daniel chuckled, wishing he’d thought of that sooner.
Hector carried the ladder out and Margie took up her tray again. Clive told her the decorations were a work of art, and she could come do his house next. She made a face at him.
Clive finished his burger and pushed the plate away, then ordered another drink. “One more. Keep the others company,” he said, patting his belly. “Lonesome in there.”
Not too lonesome. But Daniel poured the drink.
Braxton appeared and clambered onto a stool, waving at Daniel. Billy showed up a minute later and sat next to him. Billy asked for a beer. Braxton asked for a milkshake.
Daniel winced, looking at Billy. “We don’t usually sell milkshakes.”
“Well, can’t you figure it out? We got ice cream, right?”
Daniel nodded. They had ice cream. Braxton clapped his hands and looked at him expectantly.
But he had never made one before. Ice cream and … what. Milk? He looked at the blender. Surely it was just ice cream and milk. Did it have ice in it? No. That was a slush. He knew how to make a slush. “Sure you don’t want a slush? How about an ice cream float?”
“No!” Braxton yelled, giggling. “Milkshake.”
“I can try,” Daniel said, mostly to Billy. “But it might not come out too good.”
“That’s fine, Danny. How bad can it be?”
Pretty bad, probably. “Sure. OK.” He leaned over and called for Margie, asked her if she’d bring out a couple scoops of ice cream. She returned with it in a little bowl.
“Want syrup or anything, whipped cream, nuts?”
Daniel looked at Braxton hopefully. Maybe a Sundae…but no. Braxton scowled at him.
“Milkshake,” he said with finality.
Margie took a look at Daniel and knew the problem. “It’s easy. Blender, ice cream, little milk. Add some syrup if he wants chocolate or whatever.” She broke off and smiled over at Braxton. “You want a chocolate one?”
“Yes!” Braxton jumped up and down on the stool. “Chocolate one!”
With Margie’s guidance, Daniel produced the milkshake and handed it over to Braxton, who clapped his hands at them both and ate it with gusto.
Billy smiled at them. “There, see. That wasn’t so hard.”
Then he looked down at Margie’s pants, and Daniel’s eyes followed his. It took a moment to register. Pants. Margie was wearing pants.
“What’s the deal here, Margie? That’s not the uniform.”
Margie bobbed her head very lightly. “I know. I just… Billy, it’s October. I was freezing. And those shorts are really too short on me. I look like a…” she trailed off with a glance at Braxton, who was watching them intently. “I’m too old. I look stupid in those shorts. These are nice. They’re new.” She stepped back and stood up very straight, held her arms out to the sides, palms up, demonstrating. Showing him how nice she looked, how professional.
Billy shook his head. “The point of a uniform is to be uniform, Margie. Uniform. It means all the same. No jeans.”
Braxton chimed in, speaking around his straw. “Gina says if you got it, flaunt it.”
“Hush, Brax.” Billy looked at his son, annoyed, then turned back to Margie. “I mean it. No more jeans. I’ll write you up if you do it again.”
Her jaw went back and forth a few times and then she turned and stalked off. Daniel looked at Billy. “She’s got some varicose veins, Billy. She’s just trying to hide them.”
Billy made a noncommittal gesture with his head. “Nobody sees that stuff in here anyway. It’s dark. These old guys, they don’t care.”
But she cares, you idiot. He collected the empty beer glass, passed a fresh napkin to Braxton, and went to check on Clive, who was still nursing that last lonely whiskey.
He looked up with raised eyebrows. “Saw Margie storm out. What was that about? Didn’t they like the shake?”
Daniel explained, under his breath, about the shorts. “Gina, you know, she loves ‘em.”
“I know. Well, Margie better just suck it up and wear the damn things. Or he’ll find someone who will, you know. That one, he doesn’t care about you guys much.”
Funny, he said the same thing about you. Daniel laughed, but wouldn’t tell Clive what was funny when he asked. “Nothing, never mind. You ready for another?”
Clive was.
Chapter 68
When November arrived, Daniel told himself it was time to visit Bud. It was past time, really. He drank his third coffee and considered putting it off again. He was tired, of course. How long had it been since he was not tired? He always had an excuse. Too tired. Or too busy. Or he’d promised Ellie something. These days, he seemed always to have promised Ellie something. He set the coffee cup in the sink next
to a set of twins from yesterday and the day before. Now they were triplets.
He’d told Clive he didn’t spend all his time on Ellie, but he had to admit to himself that he pretty much did. Last week, he’d shut down her swamp cooler, helped her get an empty wasp’s nest out of her eaves and held the other end of the measuring tape so she could center a small mirror in the hall. And then pounded the nails for it. And hung it for her, of course. Before that… well. He shook his head. It was time he did something else on his day off. She couldn’t have him all the time. Not all the time.
He stepped over Gringo and got in his car, looking at the directions he’d gotten from Margie. Her writing was scrawly, and the last part was hard to make out. He was pretty sure he knew where the building was, but when she tried to explain the layout of the place, he’d given up. He’d just ask someone when he got there.
He saw Ellie by her fence, watching him as he drove away. He stuck a hand out the window and waved. He knew better than to stop. Oh, Daniel, would you just help me lift the… move the… get the… Daniel, can you… would you… just for a moment… just a second… just one thing. It was always just one thing. But not today.
The Pines. Daniel found a parking spot, got out of the car and stood there for a moment, trying to figure out if the place looked more like a hotel or a hospital. The building itself could have been either one. The entry had a large covered awning, which made it look somewhat like a hotel. There were little shuttle vans parked in front; that was hotel-like, too. But the wheelchairs lined up waiting to board the vans, those gave it more of a hospital flavor. The closer he got to the entry, the less hotel he saw. Inside, any resemblance to a hotel soon disappeared. It was a hospital for sure there, with nurses instead of a concierge.
He signed in at the front desk, was smiled at by a lady who buzzed him in, and then he was surrounded. People dozed in wheelchairs all around him. Other wheelchairs and people with walkers moved slowly in the background. He looked at the note Margie had given him, but could not make sense of this. A placard told him he was in the “common” room. There were hallways going off in three directions. Nurses went to and fro, paying no attention to him. He moved among the wheelchairs, trying not to wake anybody, then realized most of them were not actually sleeping. They were just…there, heads lolling, open-mouthed, staring wide-eyed at nothing. Not asleep. Not awake. Not living, not dead. Just on hold, somewhere in the middle. Waiting.
Daniel picked his way through this sea of slack-jawed people, smiling down at them almost automatically. Maybe they were really seeing him… but he knew they weren’t. He made his way to the branching hallways. One led to the dining area and administration. He consulted his map again. Bud was in room 325, it said. But he didn’t know which hall and he couldn’t bear to stand in the common room for even one more minute, so he walked down the hall that was closest and started looking at the room numbers.
Room 200. Fine. 210. 225… fine, fine. If he kept going he should come to the 300s. But then after 250 he came to another hallway and an elevator, then a room that said Laundry/Emergency, and then the numbers were in the 700s. He backtracked to the small hallway and went down that. 600…605…610… But that was going the wrong direction, and the hallway dead-ended at 650. He went back again to the elevator. No information there. He went up to the second floor, where there were almost no doors in the halls at all. Here he wandered around for a minute until he found a nurse, who asked what he was looking for.
“It’s really confusing, I know. You’re in the wrong wing though. This is the Sighing Pines facility. The three hundreds are all in Whispering Pines. That’s the assisted living. Sighing is the full care ward.” She directed him back to the elevator, explaining the differences, minute and vast.
Now he understood why Margie had tried to explain the place before he came, and he wished he’d been paying more attention. He found his way back to the common room and took the other hallway. This made more sense almost immediately. At the end of this short hall was an elevator and a reception area with a tray of cookies. He wondered how long they’d been there. Nobody was at the desk. He took the elevator, followed the signs and found Room 325. The door was open, and the television was on. Bud sat at a table next to the window. He looked up as Daniel tapped on the door.
Daniel took a tentative step into the room and held up a hand. “Bud? Hope you don’t mind a visitor.”
“No, it’s fine! Come on in. Have... here, let me clear a spot for you.” Bud stood up and scooped a stack of magazines out of the other chair. “I haven’t got the hang of this apartment living stuff yet.”
Daniel sat. His eyes took in the space. “This isn’t too bad,” he said. “Do you like it here?”
“It’s OK.” Bud sat back in his chair and patted the armrests. “They’re pretty nice, the people. The ladies out front? Yeah. They’re nice to me. It’s not bad. We have movies.” He pointed at the television. “Almost always something to watch.”
“This is a good size... it’s cozy. I went to the wrong side at first. The full care side. Those rooms are really small.”
“Oh, yeah. I don’t go over there. I try to stay on my side. The dining area, sometimes I go.” Bud stood up and went to the window. “I have a window, see? I can watch them load up the shuttles. It’s amazing how many wheelchairs they can get in one of those things.”
“Where are they going?” Daniel came to the window and watched with Bud as the attendants arranged people on the shuttle.
Bud scratched his jaw slowly. “Dunno. Hair appointments, looks like. We got a crew of bluehairs that get a rinse every so often. Like it helps. I never understood the blue hair thing. But they could be going shopping or something. They run shuttles all the time. We sign up downstairs if we want to go.” He rested his knuckles on the windowsill and scanned the parking area. “I never sign up.”
“You still have your car, don’t you?”
Bud made a vague gesture. “Nowhere to go anyway. I guess to doctor’s appointments and the like. I don’t need beauty treatments. There’s a barber right downstairs, anyway.”
“Oh, c’mon Bud. You should dye your hair blue, give Billy a shock.”
The two men laughed at this and Bud slapped Daniel on the back. “He deserves one, I guess, little shit. How’s he doing? How’s the bar?”
Daniel chewed his lip and looked intently out of the window. Having gotten all the wheelchairs in place, the attendants were now helping other people get on board the shuttle. One of the ladies waiting for a seat looked a lot like Ellie. “It’s fine. Fine. Billy’s… he’s doing good. Making more changes.” What else could he say? Your son’s a jackass, Bud. We all hate him. Daniel shook his head and watched the Ellie lookalike downstairs. She moved a lot like Ellie. Old people all move that way, he thought, like they have stickers in their shoes. He looked at Bud. “How’s your ankle?”
“Oh, it’s fine. Aches a little, you know. PT every Thursday. Don’t like that, I can tell you. But… I’m good.” Bud pointed toward the door, where a walking stick with a duck’s head hung over the knob. “Got a cane, but I forget to use it.” He looked down at his feet and went back to his chair. “Wish to Christ I hadn’t taken that fall, though. At least it wasn’t my damn hip.”
“True, that could have been a whole lot worse.”
“Could. Well. I was gonna have to face this eventually. Billy’d been after me to move for a while. I wasn’t taking care of myself right, you know. Here, it’s easier to keep up with it. The house was too much. It was too big for me alone.”
Below, the shuttle pulled away from the curb and the attendants went back inside. Daniel wondered if someday Ellie would be living in a place just like this. A room like this, or maybe one not this nice. As Bud had said, everyone who lives long enough has to face it someday. He thought of something and frowned. “Do they allow pets here?”
Bud blinked at him. “Dunno. Maybe small ones. Cats and such. Haven’t seen any. I know
some of the ladies do have fish. Why?”
Cats and fish. Not German Shepherds. Daniel stretched and looked out the window some more. Of course not. Who was going to end up with her dog, when she moved away? Daniel nodded, knowing the answer already. He looked at Bud. “No reason.”
“Might get me a fish. They’re good for your blood pressure, they say. Calming. You think I should?”
“Your call.” Daniel thought about the days of Audrey and her kittens and watched the parking lot for a minute. “Another shuttle just pulled up.”
“Yeah.” Bud sounded bored. “There’s at least a few every day. Christ. You should see the place on Sundays – the whole front is absolutely crammed. Church buses.” He got out of his chair again and came to stand beside Daniel. “I’ll tell you, they have folks going to church who never went once in their real life.”
“Probably so,” Daniel said, watching the shuttle pull out. This one was going to the St. Joseph Clinic. “People here probably do a lot of things they never did in their real lives.”
Bud put his head against the window so he could look to the east. “At night, you can see the lights of that hotel from here. Some of those windows never go dark at all,” he said, tapping the glass with his finger. “I hear at Christmas, they put a big tree up on top there. Lights and everything.”
Daniel stood behind Bud and looked. “You’d have a better view of the mountains if the hotel wasn’t there.”
“Maybe. Hotel’s more interesting anyway.”
Before he left, Bud made Daniel promise to come by often. Daniel lied and said he would.
Chapter 69
The realtor drove a minivan with a company magnet that matched the sign in front of the house. The couple behind him were in a minivan as well. They parked across the street and went inside. Daniel restrained himself from crossing over to see how it was going. He wondered how Ellie was handling it – people prowling all over her house, commenting on things that would be none of their business in any other circumstance. Maybe she was fine. Probably she was fine.
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