The Grey Door
Page 8
“Johnny Depp and I are having lunch today. Did you want to join us? Or should I tell him you’re busy?”
“What?” Grace asked.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“I’m sorry, my mind is elsewhere,” Grace confessed.
“Talk. I’m listening.”
“I’m concerned about my dad getting the kind of care he should be getting, but then again, I haven’t been a participant in his care, so how would I know?”
“Is your mom putting you on a guilt trip?”
“No. Actually— Never mind. I was thinking out loud.” She couldn’t tell Sal about the conversation she had with Lenny. That was privileged information.
“I guess I better call Jess back.”
“Sure. Sweep it under the rug, Grace.”
“Something was brought up in session, Sal. It started me thinking about the kind of care my dad may be getting. That’s all.”
“I hear you. If I may share, my folks are divorced. Dad lived in this retirement center. One day I went to visit and here is this big, burly guy trying to shove this woman into his car. He’s screaming at her. The staff is screaming at her. I wanted to knock all of their heads together!”
“What did you do?”
“I called the police and sat on hold while this man drove away, the woman still trying to escape from his car. I asked the staff why she was being treated like that and why they allowed her to get into the car with that man. Turns out, the man was contracted by the home to transport residents to the hospital. They said the woman had dementia. She hadn’t been eating, and they felt she needed to go to the hospital, that she was a danger to herself. I asked why they didn’t call an ambulance. They said she didn’t have the insurance coverage! I thought Medicare paid for that. They said Medicare pays some of it. And only if it’s life threatening. Not eating and acting a bit crazy weren’t serious enough. I was appalled.”
“I hear stories Sal, and I know it’s hard to deal with any kind of dementia, but Jeez, I would expect the caretakers to be trained!”
“Where have you been?”
“Good question,” Grace replied. She felt her mood darken. She needed to regroup. “I’m going to make some calls.”
She closed her door and stared out the window. Is this what turning thirty-one is all about? More responsibility? Gone are the carefree twenties, the me-me days? Those are her parents. They would have done anything for you. Why did she feel put upon? People are dying around you.
You’re feeling immense loss. You’re not ready for more of the same.
She closed the blinds and picked up the phone.
“Jess, about this morning…”
***
When the last client was ushered out of Grace’s office with tender words of encouragement, she walked over to the Park Lounge for a drink. From the lounge’s patio, she watched people across the street mill around Capitol Park. A man sat on a bench between two standard-size poodles, their tufts of black curls trimmed with pink bows. Jeweled collars glistened like gold in the fading sun. The evening couldn’t have been lovelier. She checked her watch. The days are getting shorter. The thought made her anxious. She ordered another glass of wine.
I should be going, she thought, stroking the stem of her glass. Suddenly, a familiar scent clinging to the soft breeze changed her mind. She turned to spy the man with black hair, tied away from his neck. He was alone. He must have felt her stare, for he turned and smiled, raising his glass. She recognized him as the waiter from the Ambrosia Café.
“Hello,” he teased, his smile turned wicked. “Such a beautiful lady alone?”
“Zee accent? It is gone? Let me guess: you’re not really French.”
He held his hands to his heart, wounded.
“Zee tips.” He shrugged and rose from his seat. “It works. What can I say?” His eyes penetrated hers. “May I join you?”
“I don’t know. Is your name really Paul?”
“You remembered. I’m flattered.” He sat down.
“Don’t be. I have a good memory, that’s all.”
“I’d say you have more than just a good memory,” he retaliated, flashing a smile more brilliant than the last. “Your hair, your eyes, your—” His smile turned to a roguish grin.
Grace leaned forward. Her lids fluttered sensuously as she watched his Adam’s apple ride up and down his throat. In a voice, sexy and low, she replied, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re full of shit?”
“You are so refreshing.” He leaned back and sipped his drink.
His eyes never wavered from hers.
“Is your charm the best you have to offer?” she asked, stroking the stem of her glass.
“I’m a student,” he confessed, His eyes followed her fingers. “Waiting tables pays the bills. If tips are good, I can count on eating at least one meal a day.”
“What are you studying?”
“I have two more weeks until I take the veterinarian board exams.”
“Really, a veterinarian?” She extended her hand. “My name is Grace.”
“Oh, so now you’re impressed?”
“No, but I do like the idea of you caring for pigs, more than I like the idea of you being one.”
“I’m good with ‘bitches’ too.”
“Hmm, must be my lucky night.” She raised her glass and they toasted. “To a lucky night.”
Paul called to the waiter and ordered tequila.
“Sounds good,” Grace agreed. “I’ll have one too.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Mixing alcohol really isn’t a good idea.”
“What? Are you my father?”
“No, and I’m not your daddy. But I am a responsible adult.”
“How boring,” Grace said. “Maybe you should loosen up a little.”
“Maybe.”
“Do I tell you what to do?” Grace asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you telling me what to do?”
“I was merely suggesting—”
“I’ll have a tequila,” she announced defiantly.
The waiter hesitated, sensing Paul’s disapproval. Paul handed the man his credit card and turned to Grace, “You’re not driving.”
“Says who? I’ll be fine.”
The sun settled. As twinkling lights mingled with the stars, the waiter brought another round of drinks. Grace slammed each shot right down. Paul sipped his like a gentleman. When Grace’s words began to slur, Paul requested the check.
“I’m not into sloppy drinkers, Grace. Shall I call you a cab?”
“No! I’m fine!”
“No, you’re not.”
“I might even have a few more,” she said, struggling with her words. “You are not my father!”
“No, I think I may be your chauffeur though.”
“Oh, now you’re a chauffeur. How nice. How many jobs do you have?” He grabbed her arm.
She pulled away. “I’m fine. Really.” Grace stood to prove her point, but when she began to walk a straight line, she failed miserably. She dug her keys from her purse, and Paul wrangled them from her hand. He placed some cash in the leather folder and helped Grace to her car. She stumbled into the passenger side without further argument.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said. “I’m really drunk or somethin’. Do you think so?”
“Yeah, somethin’.” He looked in the glove compartment for her registration. Her lids were fluttering. He figured she would be asleep before they turned the corner. He was wrong.
“You’re a sexy guy,” she blurted. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I can be bad. I should be bad. I’ve been good all my life. It’s time to be a bad girl.”
“It sounds to me like the alcohol is doing the talking, mon chèr.”
“I like the way you say things, French Fry.”
Paul smiled to himself. She’s drunk, but cute.
***
“Shhh!” she giggled.
“Allow me,” he said, sliding his hand over hers.
Sneaky whined to be let out. Grace slurred apologies to her dog as she turned on a light, spoiling the ambiance.
“She’s beautiful,” Paul said, suddenly more interested in the dog than in getting laid.
“Yeah, geesh…oh.” Grace teetered onto a kitchen stool. The room began to spin. Paul caught her before she slid to the floor and led her into the next room.
Once Grace was safe on the couch, he let the dog outside. He returned to the kitchen where he ran a cotton towel under cold water. He rung it out and placed it on the back of her neck. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a pill case and two charcoal tablets he coaxed into Grace’s mouth. He sat with her on the sofa while they dissolved under her tongue. She smiled at him gratefully before passing out. Paul let the dog back in. Instinctively, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of dog food. He spooned meat chunks into a shallow dish and set it on the floor.
Sneaky nudged his hand with her snout.
Paul removed his shoes and claimed what little space was available on the couch while listening to Grace snore. On the precipice of sleep, he was awakened by the sound of a low growl. It seemed like it was coming from the kitchen. When Paul got up, he found Sneaky guarding the back door. Paul looked out the kitchen window, but all he saw were trees rustling in the wind.
“Hey, girl. What’s out there? What’s got you so bothered?” he whispered. Sneaky retreated when Paul opened the door. “See, no one there.”
Suddenly Paul felt strange being in this woman’s house. It wasn’t the evening he had envisioned. “I should leave,” he said to the dog. When he went to get his shoes, the light in the kitchen clicked on, scaring him into a defensive position. His fists clenched tight. He was ready to strike.
“What are you doing in my house?” Grace demanded.
“I brought you home, remember? You had a little too much to drink. I gave you some charcoal; you may have a little diarrhea in the morning. Drink plenty of water.”
“Diarrhea? You gave me diarrhea?”
“No, it’s a possible side effect. Most people don’t—” Paul could tell Grace still seemed confused.
“Hey, listen. Are you steady enough to get into bed?” he asked. “Do you want my help?” He moved toward her.
“You were in my bed?”
“No!” He stepped back. “No. Would you like me to help you to bed?”
“I’m not going to bed with you!” Grace insisted, but her body began to sway, and she struggled to remain steady on her feet.
“Come on,” he said, wrapping her arm around his neck. He helped her upstairs, turning on lights along the way. Sneaky waited at the bottom of the steps, wagging her tail. She whimpered.
“Yeah, I know,” he called back. “Some woman can’t hold their liquor.”
Sneaky’s woof agreed.
Paul stood by the edge of the bed attempting to unbutton Grace’s jacket, but she swatted his fingers like flies. When she tried to remove it herself, he had to untangle her from the twisted cloth. Suddenly, she lost her balance and plopped on the bed. He looked into her eyes.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” she said. “The very thought of riveting and bouncing will make me nauseous.”
“Can I remove your shoes? Or would you rather have swollen ankles in the morning.”
“Are you married?” she blurted.
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“Nope.”
He faced her as he unbuckled her shoe.
“I’m not married or engaged. I don’t have a girlfriend, and I’m not gay. Any more questions?”
“Why?”
“I haven’t found the right girl.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, I’ve been busy with school. I got a late start.” He unbuckled the other shoe. When he reached for the waistband of her skirt, she grabbed his hand.
“I can do the rest.”
“You’re alright then? I would hate for you to get tangled and take a tumble down those stairs.”
“I’m okay. Thanks. It’s late, I’m sure you have—” she yawned.
“Yes, I do. How ’bout we have dinner some night?”
“Leave your number. I’ll call you.”
“You are a new breed,” he winked.
“Of bitch?” she giggled.
“Those were your words, not mine.”
“Night, lover-boy.” She mumbled. Grace closed her eyes and floated away.
“J’ai hâte de te revoir.” He whispered against her cheek. I can’t wait to meet again.
Grace began to dream…
She wore a flowing gown, her body naked beneath gossamer silk. A breeze coming from a tall window stirred the filmy garment around her slender form. Flimsy fabric clung to her breasts, her flat midriff, and her legs.
A dark-haired man stood by the door waiting for an invitation to enter. Paul? She summoned him with her finger, and he obliged.
The man’s muscles rippled as he pulled his shirt over his tanned torso. He came to her and touched her lips gently with his. She raked her fingers down his bare chest.
“I have waited an eternity for your kiss,” he said, his voice sultry.
She responded; her lips slightly parted.
He was tender. Their lips touched again lightly. “Tu es tres jolie,” he said, his voice velvety smooth. You are so beautiful. “Je veux t’embrasser toute la nuit.”
“Oh yes,” she agreed. She wanted his kisses all night long. He pressed his body against hers. She trembled.
As their passion rose, she moved across the room, ready to take him to her bed. But when she pulled back the coverlet, Garret’s dead body lay beneath the shroud.
She screamed…and screamed…and screamed.
Paul was up the stairs in a flash and held her tightly.
“It’s okay; it’s okay. I’m here, honey. It’s okay.” He stroked her hair and rocked her in his arms until she stopped shaking.
Once she calmed down, Paul went downstairs to make coffee.
It was a good thing he hadn’t left. He had forgotten that Grace insisted they take her car, leaving him in a bind. He only had seven dollars left in his wallet after paying the tip on their bar tab. A taxi would’ve cost at least twenty. He settled on the sofa and had begun petting the dog when he heard her scream.
“What did you get yourself into Paul?” he mumbled to himself. “What happened to be friendly, get laid, get going?” He found mugs in the cupboard above the sink. He filled them with hot coffee.
“Talking to yourself? I can help with that. I’m a therapist.” Grace sprawled over the countertop. “I don’t usually drink. Can you tell?” She ran her fingers through her hair as if it would help her disheveled appearance.
“Are you okay?” He handed her a mug.
“I lost a man I was falling in love with—a bullet to the head. He was a sergeant for the Sacramento Police Department. He was kind, handsome, smart. He was falling in love with me too, I think. I’ll never know. It’s hard to hear someone on a ventilator with tubes up their nose.” She laid her cheek on the cool granite slab. “No. I’m not okay.”
“I’m sorry.” Paul spotted the box of tissue on the counter and handed one to Grace. He watched her blot the tears from her eyes. She was beautiful even when she was trashed. He wanted to hold her again and make her pain go away. Instead, he reached for the sugar and knocked over the bag containing the pregnancy test. Now he understood her dilemma.
“I’m not usually so chatty, and my dog is sitting on your foot,” she slurred. “Not what you expected tonight, huh?”
“Not exactly,” he laughed, his face turning red.
Sneaky grinned along. Her tail swished across his toes.
“A
ctually, it turned out better than I expected,” he said. “Whoa, especially that scream!” he joked, “Never made a girl scream like that!”
“Is that your MO? You get women drunk, take them home? Make them scream?” She bit her bottom lip, waiting for an answer.
His expression turned serious. “Because I am a waiter, a French waiter, that’s how I am expected to behave?”
“Is there any more coffee?”
“Yes, there is, but I would like an answer first.”
“I hadn’t given it much thought, Paul, but if you’re going to press the issue, it wasn’t your career that gave me the impression that you were a flirt. It was you.”
“Fair enough,” he said reaching for the pot. He poured, looking deep into her eyes. “I don’t like games, Grace. But I do like to have fun. Chemical attractions feel good…at first.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Are you?”
“I hear my share of woes.”
“I’ll bet you do.” He set the pot back on its burner. “That’s not want I want for myself. I realize there is no guarantee in life, but I would like to think that I have enough self-control to choose a mate with more care than I do a car. I’m not one to test drive and then sign the papers.
“I’m not either.”
“I really should be going,” he said, pushing into his shoes. “I have a test to study for.”
“You can sleep on my sofa if you like. I can drive you home in the morning on my way to work.”
Paul sat down and slipped off his shoes again. Grace studied his face until it began to blur. “Would you like to watch a little TV?” she asked, sitting beside him. She felt safe with him. She didn’t know why. He was practically a stranger. But there was something about him, something she could feel in her soul. He was a good man.
“Sure.”
They flipped through channels until they found a program they both agreed upon. Watching penguins migrate was fascinating to Grace, but soon she was curled up next to Paul, fast asleep. He gingerly lifted the remote from her hand and turned off the TV. He closed his eyes and nodded off.
Grace’s body jerked at the sound of her own voice. She dreamt she and Garret were outside her office. Garret had brought Sneaky to visit. She had declined his invitation to lunch because she had a client coming in and she couldn’t take the time. She hugged him goodbye that day…