Gringo

by Cass J. McMain

  But that doesn’t mean I was living in the past. Avoiding women in the present wasn’t a sign he could have no future with one. He just preferred not to think about it. He preferred to avoid the hassle. And the gardening… well, fine. He avoided it because it reminded him of the past. Was that the same as living in the past? He didn’t think so.

  “Not wanting to relive the past, that’s what that is. That’s not the same thing at all. That’s the opposite of living in the past.” But the nagging idea kept coming back: if he always ended up thinking about the past, that was where he was living. No matter how many arguments he could make to the contrary.

  He drove faster.

  The Pines parking lot was stuffed with cars; lots of visitors today. He found a parking spot and walked toward the building, rehearsing his speech. Bud, your son is an idiot… No. Bud, I have to tell you… your son… no: Billy. Billy cut my hours… That was OK so far. Bud might ask him how many hours he was down to. According to the law it’s full time, but the law is an ass, and so is … No. Daniel shook his head. He had to be careful, he couldn’t insult the man by calling his boy an idiot. True as it might be.

  I hate to do it, Bud, but I’m afraid I’ll have to quit… look for other work… turn in my… What was the best way to say it? Should he even say that much? Maybe Bud would offer to fix his schedule. If he did, then…but no. He wouldn’t. Daniel knew it. And what about Margie?

  He’s cut my hours and Margie’s, and he’s hired some girl… I’m afraid I can’t… I’m afraid you… No. I think you… No. That was the problem right there. It didn’t matter what he thought. What he thought – and what he was afraid of – wasn’t the point. He was here to tell Bud what had happened. And maybe Bud would do something, but probably he wouldn’t. And then Daniel would nod and wish him well and go apply for another job. Somewhere. Which was what he should have done a month ago, three months ago. A year ago when Bud first changed his schedule, maybe. Maybe earlier.

  He took a deep breath as he got off the elevator. Bud, I don’t want to leave, but I’m afraid I have no real choice. Option? Alternative? No, choice was good. I have no choice. And if Bud asked why, he would tell him.

  The door was closed, so he knocked lightly. No answer, so he knocked louder. Then he opened the door – these doors had no locks – and looked in. “Bud?” He set one foot inside the room and leaned forward, calling louder. Maybe Bud was in the bathroom, in the shower, with its bench and pull cord. Assisted Living residents were allowed to bathe themselves without supervision; that was one of the differences, vast and minute.

  “He’s not home,” a chirpy voice said. Daniel whirled around, startled. Behind him in the hall stood a woman in a purple pantsuit. “He took the shuttle this morning. They went to the art show.” The woman sniffed. “I almost went, too. I changed my mind.”

  “The art show?” Daniel reminded himself about people here doing things they never did before. “Ah, well. Thank you. Do you know when they’re coming back?”

  She shook her head and looked down. She wore sandals with fake rubies and emeralds on them. At least, Daniel assumed they were fake. Under the sandals, she wore white socks. The effect was comical.

  “No, sorry. I’d guess another hour or two at least. You want me to give him a message or anything? I’m right across the hall.” She smiled broadly and placed her hands lightly on her chest. The gems on her fingers matched the shoes, but Daniel couldn’t be certain those were fake.

  “No… no. I’ll just… come back.” He thanked her and got on the elevator. He wasn’t sure he would come back. He hadn’t anticipated this, and he was at odds. Maybe he’d go fill out some job applications. Or, perhaps he could pick up some applications and then come back here. He could pretend he’d come to ask Bud for advice. Or a reference. That might be even better than the original plan. More direct, if that made a difference.

  There was a crush of people at the door. A shuttle had just pulled in and was offloading returned passengers. Daniel worked his way past them, started toward his car, then stopped and turned to look. Maybe this was the art-show group, coming back. The socks-and-sandals lady had guessed an hour or two, but what did she know? He walked forward a little ways, folded his arms and watched out of the corner of his eye as people got off the shuttle with their canes and their walkers. There was the Ellie lookalike again.

  Except... She turned briefly at the door, and a chill walked down Daniel’s spine like a spider. That was no lookalike. That was Ellie. He would almost have sworn to it. That was the dress she wore all the time, the one with the stripes.

  He took a halting step and called her name just as she disappeared inside. He called again and took a few steps closer, but the crowd of people at the door blocked his view. He shook his head; he was imagining things, had to be. One of the old men grabbed him by the wrist and squeezed, startling him. He shook his arm free, turned and made his way back to the car. He was almost running.

  Chapter 72

  He drove. As he drove, he thought about Ellie. The image of that woman was burned right into his mind. She had looked so much like her, so much. But of course, that wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  No. Of course not. Ellie couldn’t have moved, just like that. He’d seen her… when? Only two days ago. He’d taken her a sandwich. They had talked about art again, about how it makes you think. He’d asked if it wasn’t more about feelings, and she’d insisted not. She’d told him feelings are a dime a dozen. Feelings are worth very little, she’d said, but thought leads to knowledge. Understanding. Growth. And that was where you found your real feelings anyway.

  He couldn’t argue with that, and hadn’t tried. He wondered, though. Was it still art if you thought about things but didn’t grow? Maybe sometimes you thought and thought about something you saw, but nothing happened in your mind. Was that possible? Now, driving back, he wondered some more. He’d go talk to her right now, and ask her. Tell her about the day he’d had. She’d get a kick out of the story about the lady that looked like her, right down to the stupid stripey dress. He’d tell her about the day before, his job, what had happened with his hours. She probably already knew. She should know, anyway… anyone would. Anyone with sense.

  Daniel slammed his hand on the steering wheel. Dammit, dammit, dammit. How could he not have seen that coming? So busy looking at what was coming for other people, not to notice it was coming for him as well. He stopped for the light and rubbed his hands. Nothing for it. He’d get a new job. He’d start looking right away. After he went to see Ellie.

  If she’s home. Daniel snorted sour laughter. Of course she was home.

  What if she isn’t? He shook his head and looked at himself in the rearview mirror, surprised at how pale and sad he looked. She is. It was just a trick of the light. All old ladies look the same.

  But when he got home and went across to knock on her door, she didn’t answer.

  The door was locked. Daniel felt his pockets, but knew he didn’t have the key on him. He cupped his hands around his face and peered through one window, then another. Then he banged on the door again and called out. He heard a yell from behind him and turned to see Greg standing at the edge of his yard.

  “There’s nobody in there.” When Daniel didn’t respond, he went on, “You’re looking for the crew? Cleaners or movers, or whatever? They left.”

  Daniel came off the porch and took a few steps closer. “Cleaners?”

  Greg pushed his glasses up. “Yup, I think so. The realtor sent ‘em I guess. That sure went fast. You saw he sold it?”

  Daniel’s eye followed Greg’s pointing finger. Sale Pending. He looked at the house and then back at Greg. “When did that go up?”

  “Not sure. But he was here, to let them in. Whole team, had to be at least six. And he had guys on the roof doing something, too. I guess we’re finally about to get new neighbors. He said they were coming to take the rest of the furniture out later this week.”
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br />   Greg went on talking, but Daniel was looking at the house again. Pending… could Ellie really have moved out, just like that? He couldn’t imagine it. But she wasn’t there. Maybe she was trying to stay out of the way. Cleaners…movers. The rest of the furniture. The rest… He looked at Greg sharply and cut him off mid-sentence. “Any sign of Ellie?”

  Greg blinked at him and pushed his glasses up again. “Well, no. Course not.”

  He went to his house for the key and had a quick look. Greg was right: there was nobody there.

  Daniel got back in the car and headed back to the Pines. He had to make sure. He had to know. She’d never move out without a word to you, she wouldn’t. But she might have been moved, might she not?

  He drove. And as he drove, he thought about Ellie.

  Chapter 73

  Daniel approached the front desk and the lady behind it looked at him with faked curiosity.

  He hesitated a moment. What if he was wrong? He had to be wrong. But he had to find out. He looked around. What did they call people here? Patients? Tenants? A sign clued him in: It is flu season. For the safety of all our Residents, please refrain from visiting if you have flulike symptoms. Thx. There were cartoon ladybugs all over the sign, sad-faced ladybugs taken ill with the flu, thermometers in their downturned mouths. He stared at them. The woman at the desk tapped her pen and raised her eyebrows at him.

  “I’m looking for someone,” he said. “A new resident, I think. Maybe. She—”

  “Name?”

  “Neal. Ellie Neal. She may—”

  “Yep.” The woman consulted a chart briefly. “Room 404. That’s Sighing Pines, take a left at the first hall, follow the signs to the elevator. Four hundreds are on the fifth floor.” She turned back to her paperwork and he was on his own.

  Daniel didn’t ask why the four hundreds were on the fifth floor. There seemed to be very little logic behind the place’s numbering. Probably confusing to the patients. Patients, residents, whatever. Prisoners. He made his way through the common room to the Sighing side, and stood looking at the elevator.

  Ellie was here. How could that be? What’s more, he was afraid to go up and see her, and how could that be? But he was. He was terrified, and it made no sense. Ellie was… just Ellie. Nothing scary. But she was here, now, and that changed things.

  That changed everything.

  The elevator opened and a nurse came out pushing a wheelchair. She gave Daniel a half-smile and he gave her one back and stepped onto the elevator. Fifth floor, the four hundreds are on the fifth floor. He pressed the button, but when it came to a stop he didn’t get off. He stayed on the elevator and eventually the doors closed. He pressed the button for the ground floor and went back down, but didn’t get off there either. He decided maybe it wasn’t fear but anger that he was feeling, anger that Ellie would move away without saying a word to him. Not possible. But not impossible, either. Not impossible.

  The lady at the front desk could be wrong. She had to be. There was a patient with a similar name, and she had misheard him. Or maybe it was just a coincidence, two women named Ellie Neal. Not an uncommon name. Probably dozens of them. Ellie – his Ellie – was sitting in her kitchen right now, having coffee or something. She’d laugh when she heard about this. She’d laugh and tell him of course she would be moving, but she wouldn’t just leave. Wouldn’t just take off without a word. He’d have to help her pack her things, she’d tell him, and make sure they were safe and secure when they loaded them on the truck. She wouldn’t trust just anyone to move her stuff for her. It wouldn’t be hard; they had already packed most of it anyway.

  She was home, that’s where she was. Because that’s where she had been four days ago, talking about her cold bones and her past and the river Lethe. That’s where she was day before yesterday, when he sat and talked to her about art while they ate ham sandwiches. That’s where she had been, and it was where she had to be now. Two days ago was not that far in the past. This had to be a mistake, a mixup. He took the elevator to five and got off.

  The lockless door to room 404 was wide open. There were two beds. Next to each bed was a nightstand. Against the opposite wall there was a dresser and a reclining chair. Seated in the reclining chair was Ellie Neal, wearing her old stripey dress and with a small blanket draped over her feet. She looked up at him and smiled her familiar smile.

  Daniel had to grab the doorframe to keep from falling down.

  “Hello.” Ellie smoothed the blanket carefully and watched Daniel. “If you’re looking for Diane, I think she’s down in the crafts room.”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Me? Why, goodness. That’s a surprise. Whatever for? It’s not more flu shots, is it?”

  “Ellie… don’t you…” Daniel found himself at the edge of the bed and leaned on it, then sat down heavily on it. “You don’t recognize me.” It wasn’t a question. He tried to make it feel as though it had been, but he couldn’t. He knew.

  “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Oh…” Ellie frowned and shook her head at him. “Long time, young man. Long enough. You look very ill. Are you feeling quite well?” She fingered the call button that was draped over the back of her chair. “I think I should call you a nurse.”

  “No. I don’t need—” But she pressed it anyway. When the nurse came, he asked how long Ellie had been there, but the nurse wouldn’t say.

  “She’s been here a while, haven’t you Ellie?” The nurse crossed the room and twitched the curtains open wider, then came back and looked Ellie over, fussing. Adjusting her pillow. “You pressed that button just so I’d come visit, didn’t you?”

  “I was worried about this man here. He seems to feel poorly.”

  Daniel sat up straighter. “I’m fine,” he said, glancing at the nurse who was now watching him carefully. “I just… Ellie’s a friend of mine. You say she’s been here a while, but it can’t be more than a few days. Is she on strong medication or something? Who brought her in?”

  The nurse’s lips thinned. “We aren’t really allowed to discuss our residents with anyone. I’m sorry. Ms. Neal will have to tell you that herself, if she wants you to know.” She looked at Ellie. “Ellie? Is this one of your family?”

  Ellie shook her head, looking at Daniel. “I don’t think so. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

  Daniel stood open-mouthed, and tried to speak. All that came out was a clicking noise. The nurse’s expression softened and she pulled Daniel slightly aside.

  “She’s not always clear. You can’t take it too personally if she doesn’t remember you. I’m sorry I can’t discuss her case with you. If you contact her brother, he may give us permission to speak to you. Are you a relative, or a friend?”

  “A friend. I… was… I thought I was a good friend.” He wiped his face and found his hands were shaking. “I brought lunch to her two days ago. How can she not know me, just like that? How?”

  The nurse nodded. “Well, I can’t speak to that. Things change. You might sit and talk to her a while, see if she comes around. I’m sure she’d appreciate the visit, even if she doesn’t know you right now. It’s possible she’ll remember. She has good days and bad ones… I’m sorry I really cannot discuss it further than that. You’ll have to contact her brother. He can give us permission to speak with you.” She looked back into the room and called to Ellie. “I’m going to get your snacks ready, Ellie. You be a good girl, now. Your friend is here, to visit you.” She turned back to Daniel. “What was your name?”

  Daniel told her and she told Ellie and Ellie nodded, but nothing seemed to click. The nurse patted him on the back and left. The bored sympathy in her eyes said she saw this every day, and Daniel fought a sudden urge to yell that this was different.

  He went in and sat on the edge of the bed again. On the very edge, so it was uncomfortable and he had to press down with his feet to keep from falling off. As though
sitting all the way on the bed would dirty it, or him, in some way. As though it would be accepting something, or… agreeing to it.

  “Daniel. That’s nice name. Do they call you Danny?”

  He shook his head. “Sometimes,” he said. “Who brought you here? Was it your brother?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I don’t remember. That was a long time ago.” She didn’t say it loudly.

  A long time ago. “It can’t have been that long, Ellie. I was just at your house. We had lunch. I brought you…” But the look on her face told him again. She didn’t remember, or didn’t believe him. Or both. He tried once more. “We talked about painting. About art. Remember? I said, about the thorns…I asked how you could tell I touched the rose painting, and you said you just knew. We talked about that, and about the sketches you did of me. I told you I was thinking of framing them, and…” He let the sentence drift. “You really don’t remember any of this at all?”

  “I love art. My grandmother used to paint.”

  “I know.”

  Ellie’s room was nothing like the one Bud was in. Bud’s was more of an apartment. A small one, but an apartment. This was like a hospital room. This was more like the room his mother had died in. There were pictures taped to the wall. On closer inspection, they were from an old calendar. On the front, pictures. Kittens, mountains, fruit. On the back, days of the month. She explained that she had liked them too much to throw out so the nurses had taped them up for her.

  She closed her eyes and opened them, then complained she was cold. Daniel looked around for something to put over her shoulders. He found a sweater and helped her with it, then stood a few feet off, watching her as though there was a secret he had missed. She looked older now. It was the light, maybe.

  Ellie pulled the sweater closer around her shoulders and looked at him. “Thank you. It’s always so cold in here.”