Authors: Patti Hill
Seeing Things (28 page)
Diane stood behind the chair closest to the window. “Something tells me, Ruth, that you sat right here, warming yourself like a cat on those wintry afternoons.”
“You're a clever girl, Diane. I took a good thirty-minute break from my household duties before the children got home. I sat, just as you said, listening to the crooners on the stereo: Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and oh, how I loved Tony Bennett.” She sang,
“I left my heart . . . in San Francisco . . .”
Ruth ran her hand along the back of the chair. “Those were the days.”
“I left my heart . . . in San Francisco . . .”
Ruth ran her hand along the back of the chair. “Those were the days.”
“What are the building planners thinking around here?” Diane said, hands on hips, facing her brother's house. “They're ruining a historical neighborhood. Most urban areas are preserving the character of their cities with ultrastrict ordinances. I hate seeing this, and I'm not one bit surprised my brother would build an overblown monument to his self-importance.”
“There's no call to talk about your brother like that,” I said.
“He should have remodeled the existing home, maintained the profile, or stayed where he was.”
“It was a long commute. They hardly saw each other.”
I felt Diane's hot gaze. “Then he should have taken his neighbors into consideration. At the very least, if he had to build, he should have built a rancher.”
Ruth sat in front of her coffee and stirred thoughtfully. “That may have been his original intent, Diane. He approached me out of the blue one Saturday, came to the door dressed for golf, looking a bit harried, if you ask me. He'd been to the planning department and knew I owned this house and the house to the south. He offered to buy both houses.” She laid the spoon on the saucer. “He was very polite, didn't push a bit when I told him I planned on dying in this house and depended on the income from the rental. He excused himself and trotted off to his car.”
“Well, short of bulldozing my brother's house to rubble, I can't give you your sunny window back. However, installing a reflective tube shouldn't be a problem. Ma has one in her cabin. It's amazing how much light they bring into an area. And once it's installed, there's no added expense. You wouldn't have to leave your lights on all the time. I'm going to talk to Andy. He owes you that much.”
Ruth hardly knew what to do about Diane's zealous championing. “My dear . . . we hardly know one another. I shouldn't think it's up to you to fix . . . I'm fine, really. Birdie? Does the darkness bother you?”
“It's difficult for me to make out much detail.”
Diane kneeled by Ruth's chair. “According to years of indoctrination at the hand of my mother, I am definitely my brother's keeper, as well as his conscience. This won't be the first time I've cleaned up after him. Would he listen to me when I told him to leave the soldering gun in the shed? Oh, no. This will be much easier than reupholstering a kitchen chair with a place mat, won't it, Ma?”
Back when Andy had completely lost his mind during puberty, I'd come home to the scent of burned plastic and a kitchen chair upholstered with a Mickey Mouse place mat. “I'd forgotten all about that.”
Diane put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “I always knew you liked him best.”
“I never!”
“I know, Ma.” She touched her cheek to mine. “Ruth, the reflective tubes aren't that expensive, and since my own ma rarely allows me to lend a hand, I'll happily exact a pound of flesh from Andy's scrawny backside.” Diane rubbed her hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
We walked toward home. Diane's sweater smelled of hot metal and the sea. I promised myself to buy a ticket to Dublin the instant I got home. That meant some serious rehabilitation on my part. Diane hated walking slowly. I toed my way over a rise in the sidewalk. The obstacle snagged my thoughts to Ruth's kitchen.
“Go ahead and say it,” Diane said, a little too knowing for my taste.
I stopped. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You're only quiet when you have something you want to say.”
“That's not true.”
“What's on your mind, Ma?”
“I don't like the way you talked about your brother.”
“I don't like the way he feels entitled to all the sunshine in Colorado.”
“He's your brother. Once I'm gone, the two of you will hold all the memories of our family. Trust me, sharing those memoriesâthe good, the bad, the mundaneâis a powerful antidote to loneliness. I'd give anything to chat with Evelyn again.”
“He exploits his outsourced workers.”
“You should have seen his face light up when we brought you home from the hospital. You filled a gap in his life then, as different as you were, and as alike as you are.”
“I'm nothing like Andy.”
“You have the same ma and pa. That's enough to extend him some respect. Will you do that for me?”
Diane embraced me hard. The bruise on my sternum ached, but I squeezed her back with the same ferocity.
“Ma, I'll try. I'll give it a try.”
We walked again. “There's something else. If you and Andy have any concerns about me, I want to be included in the conversation. I won't be talked about like the village idiot.”
“Ma, I'm so sorryâ”
“Promise?”
She hesitated. “I promise.”
Chapter 29
The dark green walls of Ms. Something-or-other's small office crowded me. “Welcome to the Grand View Retirement Cottages,” she said, her husky voice stretching for enthusiasm. Arms like sausages pulled at the fabric of her lavender suit. She wore her salt-and-pepper hair in soft curls past her shoulders. There was a time when a woman her age would have been considered loose with such a hairdo, if you know what I mean.
“Tell me about your macular degeneration, Mrs. Wainwright. Are you receiving treatments?”
Since agreeing to visit the cottages, Andy's prime contender for assisted living, I'd practiced sounding informed and sane. In truth, I sounded like a Tupperware saleslady who had successfully burped a Fix-n-Mix bowl. “The antiangiogenic treatments that now offer amazing improvement for people like me weren't available ten years ago. At the time, my retinal specialist recommended photodynamic therapy as the safest treatment for my AMD. As you probably know, PDT doesn't stop further blood vessel growth, so the treatments only proved a Band-Aid in my situation. I do see a retinal specialist regularly, but I'm at end-stage. None of the current treatments will improve my eyesight.”
“That must be difficult for you. Do you experience limitations due to this condition?”
I wanted to shout at her,
Try living with a gray beach ball glued to the end of your nose!
Everything I did required forethought and happened a good deal slower than satisfied my Annie Oakley temperament. I ate off white plates on a dark table, so the plate and food stood out. I'd given up driving. Bruises covered my body from clipping doorways and counters. And most disturbing of all, I saw and heard things that didn't actually exist. I discovered early on it was best to keep these things to myself.
Try living with a gray beach ball glued to the end of your nose!
Everything I did required forethought and happened a good deal slower than satisfied my Annie Oakley temperament. I ate off white plates on a dark table, so the plate and food stood out. I'd given up driving. Bruises covered my body from clipping doorways and counters. And most disturbing of all, I saw and heard things that didn't actually exist. I discovered early on it was best to keep these things to myself.
“I go hiking and dancing and travel whenever I get the chance,” I said. “I have a boyfriend who's a pharmacist.”
“Fabulous! We have door-to-door van service any time of day, so you'll never feel isolated at Grand View Cottages.”
“Once my ankle is healed, I won't have a lick of trouble getting around Ouray either.”
She cleared her throat and my stomach tumbled. “Your children are very worried about you, Mrs. Wainwright. Ouray is quite remote. I've been there. It's lovely. My husband and I jeep over Engineer Pass at least once a year, so I'm familiar with the area. The closest hospital is in Montrose, and that really isn't a full-service facility, as I remember.” Papers shuffled. “Let's see, after your accident, you were taken by ambulance to Grand Junction for surgery. That's almost two hours north of Ouray, isn't it?”
I shifted in the seat. “Driving two hours doesn't bother me.”
“Still, that's a significant distance, especially for issues involving more serious injuries or illnesses. Your children fear another fall, given your limited sight and the number of stairs in your home. And other issuesânot always pleasant to discuss or considerâbecome vital as we age: strokes, heart attacks, chronic illnesses such as cancer, kidney failure, and arthritis. Really, time isn't always our friend now, is it?”
Did she mean arthritis or Alzheimer's?
“The most troubling issue for your family is their inability to meet your needs properly from so great a distance. Your son found out about your injury through a friend. That hurt him deeply.”
I leaned forward, hoping to approximate eye contact. “There was no reason to call from the hospital. What could Andy do?”
“Exactly my point. He wants to be helpful, but you're too far away. Your son's peace of mind is the perfect reason to consider Grand View Cottages.” She cleared her throat. “He told me about a cooking incident at his home. You must feel terrible.”
I did. When I asked Andy about the deductible, he wouldn't talk about it.
She continued. “We understand how important independence is to our residents, so each cottage is equipped with an efficiency kitchen, but most residents enjoy communal meals in our beautiful dining room. No one likes to eat alone. So you see, we've already eliminated a source of concern for your son. Putting his mind at ease feels wonderful, doesn't it?”
“Well . . . I suppose it does make a difference.”
“Our children are afraid of hurting our feelings, so they keep too much bottled up inside. Mrs. Wainwright, by accepting your family's invitation to live closer, you are expressing a mother's true love.”
I nearly swallowed my partial. “I'm just here to take a look.”
“Of course, this is a huge decision.” She stood and jingled some keys, my cue to hop-to. “Now, as we ride over to the trial-stay cottage, note the lush lawns and shrub beds. Unlike a private residence, maintenance is never a worry to you or your family. Certified landscape management technicians keep the grounds pristine through all the seasons. We also have twenty-four-hour security. No one enters the grounds unless they're invited by a resident. This really is the perfect balance of independence and support services because in-home health care consultation is always just a phone call away.”
I mowed my own lawn with a push mower. “How much does all of this cost?”
She laughed. “Your family knew you'd ask, and they prefer you consider their support a gift.”
I rode in a golf cart with the woman while my family followed us to the cottage. Emerald lawns with manicured edges. Boxed hedges. Clusters of red tulips. All a bit fussy for me. I liked my garden impetuous, open to the visitation of a weed or two. After all, dandelions give us opportunities for buttery kisses and far-flung wishes.
Flipping through keys, the woman said, “We've spared no expense to make the cottages beautiful, safe, and welcoming.” She unlocked the door and stepped aside for me to enter. Beige entry tile. Beige carpet, low pile, easy on the walker. Beige walls, baseboards, trim, and doors. I supposed neutrality made the coming and going of residents less disruptive but made navigating for degenerates risky. I rubbed a newly acquired bruise. This place promised more of the same. At the cabin, all the woodwork glistened white, and I'd painted each room a saturated colorâyellow, blue, red. No sense being shy about something as evocative as color. Besides, the sharp contrasts improved my depth perception. The Grand View cottage made me nostalgic for Pa's vanilla ice cream, with strawberries, of course.
“Check it out, Grandma,” Fletcher said, pushing ahead. “There's a guest bedroom. I could stay with you.”
The woman took on a cautionary tone. “We do limit overnight guests to one-week stays. Doing so prevents parking problems for the other residents.”
Andy said, “Ms. Carlyle, please tell Ma about your twenty-four-hour trial stay.”
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