12 McKenna #2
Leo encourages them to keep going until they’re all the way in. Elias, Johnny, Lindy, and then Rohan each maneuver into the water with none of the complaining or hijinks from the earlier lessons. At a little splash beside me, I turn to see that even Matthew is stepping in with the others.
Leo might actually be a godsend.
“I’m going to get in the pool today, McKenna,” he says as he reaches me. “Because I’ve decided I want to learn to swim, and
I’m ready to do it now. And if I stand on the outside helping all the time, you won’t be able to teach me what I need to know
to swim, so I’m going to get in the pool today. Today. I’m doing it today. Today I’m getting in the pool. Then I will tell
them about the fish.”
“Gesundheit,” I say, a smile creeping onto my face for the first time since these lessons began.
“I didn’t sneeze,” he says.
“No, but you said ‘fish.’”
He looks back toward me blankly.
“Because before . . . what you said . . .” I give up and shake my head. “Just go ahead and get in.”
“Okay, but I still need to be a helper, even when I’m in the pool.” And then he’s making his way down the steps too.
After the lesson, Leo and I walk together toward the front parking lot. He seemed surprised when I offered to walk out with
him, and frankly, I surprised myself too. But I’ve found myself curious, wondering what it’s like for him to be the way he
is.
“There,” Leo says, pointing toward a red Nissan parked along the curb. “That’s where my brother is. He’s there.”
“Okay then. Thanks for another great day, Leo,” I say, turning toward the valet booth where I’m supposed to wait for mini-campers to be dropped off soon. Except then the driver-side door of the sedan opens, and Leo’s brother steps out.
“Hey,” he says. “You must be the famous McKenna.”
“Hi, yes, very famous.” I laugh, reversing course and walking toward him. “And you’re the brother.” I take in his appearance.
He looks a lot like Leo, except a much older, more filled-out version. He smiles, and I note that he doesn’t have dimples
like his younger brother. But his smile is plenty dazzling on its own.
“Beck,” he says, extending a hand.
“Your name is Beck Becker?” I ask before accepting his hand. “Oh my gosh, that was so rude! I’m sorry. Nice to meet you, Beck
Becker.”
He chuckles. “Sorry, my real name is Harrison, but the only people who call me that are my family.”
“That’s funny,” Leo says from where he’s still standing on the other side of the car. “Beck Becker. It sounds like woodpecker.
Or check wrecker. Fact-checker. Set director. Pocket protector. Finance sector. Food selector.” I know from experience that
Leo may keep this up for several minutes. Beck and I stare at each other a little longer, Leo still mumbling to himself as
he opens the passenger door and gets into the car. The moment starts to get awkward as we let it drag, so I make my exit too.
“I’ve got campers coming.” I motion toward the cars heading up the drive. “See you tomorrow, Leo!” I call toward him and head
off.
After mini-camp and then three private swim lessons, I’m finally packing up when I see Coach and his wife and daughter walking in my direction.
Paula is dressed for golf, with her dark ponytail bobbing behind a sun visor.
Despite the summer heat, Vanessa’s in a pair of long pants, and I feel overheated just looking at the dark denim against her legs.
But I guess this means Coach has stopped trying to get her to play tennis.
“Hey, Sonny, you’re still here!” Coach says with delight as they approach. “We were just about to have a late lunch. Join
us.”
“Warren,” Paula says, her voice edged with reproach. “I’m sure McKenna has plenty of other things she’d rather be doing. Don’t
you two spend enough time together as it is?”
I’d actually have been glad to grab a bite before heading home, but Paula’s message is clear, and I don’t want to intrude
on their family time. Especially not with Vanessa giving me that stink eye like she is.
“Yeah, I’ve actually got a few more things to take care of before I head out, so you guys go enjoy.”
“Next time, McKenna,” Paula says with a forced smile.
“Wait, just one thing,” Coach says before I can turn back to the bag I was packing. “I heard from Kathleen that the special-needs
kids’ class is going great. I knew you were going to figure this out and—”
“Dad, I’m supposed to be at Everly’s in an hour,” Vanessa says.
He doesn’t acknowledge the interruption. “I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. Honestly, you’re making me look good.”
“We really don’t have a lot of time, Warren,” Paula nudges.
“Okay, okay,” he says. “Keep up the good work, kiddo.”
“Sorry, McKenna.” Paula offers me a tight smile. “Just trying to get in some family time.”
“Not at all. I have a million things to take care of too. Nice to see you.” I give them a two-fingered wave and then turn back to the chaise where I left my bag.
I’m finally back to the parking lot when my phone rings with the special ringtone I’ve designated for Juniper Groves, the
assisted living center.
It’s been strange living in Glory’s house without her. Were I not so busy every day, I’d probably be moping more about how
horribly quiet the house is without her. I certainly didn’t manage to hold back my tears when we said goodbye over the weekend.
The aide who helped Glory get settled promised she’d call me herself in a few days to let me know how things were going. I
was confident I’d be speaking to Glory plenty before that, but I worried my grandmother would just sugarcoat everything for
me.
The good news is, Glory seems to have fallen in love with the place. I guess she knew what she was doing when she picked this
specific care center. When we moved her in, she took her setup very seriously. It reminded me of when she helped move me into
my freshman dorm room only two years ago. In her new room, she and I arranged the framed photos we had packed, overthinking
the placement of each one. Glory insisted we put the picture of me from National Signing Day, when I committed to Meadowbrook,
in what she called “pride of place.” The facility allowed us to hang a vintage paisley tapestry on one of the walls and bring
Glory’s floral bed linens from home. As much as I hate that she’s in a facility, it does seem to be the only solution that
allows her to live in a comfortable, communal setting while ensuring she’ll have the care she needs as more memories begin
to fail her.
“Hello?” I answer, as I step under the shade of the portico at the front of the clubhouse. Cell phone use isn’t permitted inside the main building, so I lean against the stone wall and watch the valet parking guys take cars from the club’s late-afternoon arrivals.
“Ms. Jamison, this is Roy over at Juniper Groves.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, my apologies. I should have led with that. Everything’s fine. I’m just calling from accounting. I see here you
elected to use a payment plan to fund your grandmother’s care. I was hoping to review that with you.”
“Ah, okay.” Glory and I didn’t discuss the financial aspects all that much. She took care of the paperwork and said I should
just pay bills as they came in, using the money from her accounts. I haven’t had to deal with any of the finances yet, but
I suppose it’s past time for me to start paying attention. “Lay it on me, Roy.”
Ten minutes later, my heart is still pounding. Roy makes sure to tell me about the nurses’ recommendations—what Glory’s going
to need in the coming weeks, months, and years, many of which are add-ons we didn’t already select. They want her to have
specialized memory care, security measures to prevent wandering, including personal monitoring devices, and occupational and
behavioral therapies. Patients with profiles like Glory’s, Roy says, also benefit from personalized assistance with bathing,
dressing, and eating. Even if she doesn’t need that quite yet, she will soon. And of course, each of these services has a
price tag beside it.
Dread niggles at me as I wonder how I’m going to cobble together the money for these add-ons.
Glory was adamant that we have plenty to cover the initial entrance fee and ongoing monthly expenses, but what if that doesn’t include all these extras?
I want her to have them though. I want her to have everything.
I start parsing through ideas for earning more money, maybe staying on at Hollyhock as a waitress during the school year, but that will never work with my clinic requirements ramping up.
But Glory said she had this covered, and she must have known there wasn’t an exact number to what her care would cost, that
it might be more than expected. I tell myself to stop stressing. I need to go through the documents she left for me, to start
acting like the adult in this situation, and I will, soon. But for now, I just want to believe Glory knew what she was talking
about so I can let my thoughts drift back to sunnier topics, like Leo’s cute older brother.