Chapter 28
ELLA
I stare out the window at the large brick building with its rows of windows and a seating area planted in the middle of a small flower garden. I’ve never been here, but the sign tells me that we’re parked outside of the premier nursing home in the county. Well, in all of the surrounding counties too.
The nursing home where Ry said his grandmother lived, back when she was battling her illness.
Wait. Did Ry ever actually tell me his grandma passed away?
He opens my door, holding his hand out to me. “Ry? Why are we here?”
He smiles sadly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I instantly know… his grandmother isn’t dead; he just let me think that she was; of course, I just assumed and never asked him outright.
His grip on my hand tightens when we walk through the door. Despite their best efforts to disguise the scent, the smell of disinfectant and cafeteria food wafts through the air.
A middle-aged woman with short brown hair quickly notices Ry. “There you are, Crutch. We were wondering when you would make it back out here.”
They call him Crutch? Reading my thoughts, he leans over and whispers. “They got used to Grandpa always calling me that.” He reaches for a sign-in sheet and signs both of our names.
“You brought a guest with you today.” She smiles, flickering her eyes between the two of us. “I need to make a copy of your driver’s license, honey.”
I reach into my wallet and hand her my ID. She copies it and slides it back across the counter. “She’s been in a good mood today. You picked a good time.” The nurse looks at the clock on the wall. “She should be sitting on her patio right now. It’s been warm enough the past couple of days for her to go outside.”
Ry leads me down a corridor, politely nodding to the workers and patients. Several of them know him. Nerves circle in my stomach, creating a tornado of acid rising into my throat. We stop outside of Room 14. The door is open, and Ry quietly makes his way inside. I can’t help but feel like I’m invading someone’s personal space, someone’s sanctuary.
The room is neat and tidy. The hospital bed is made. The wall behind the bed has all the same stuff as a regular hospital—plugs, oxygen hookups, a call button. There’s a dresser with framed photographs spread across the top and a small sitting area with two comfortable chairs positioned around a television. There are two closed doors. One must be a closet and one must be a bathroom. Making his way across the room, Ry stops at the sliding glass door and looks out.
I can now see that the back side of the brick building has an arch to it. Each of the rooms has a small square patio space that opens up to a middle courtyard. Several people are sitting outside on their personal porches, enjoying the sunshine. Some of the patients also have visitors sitting with them. Two nurses wander from patio to patio, keeping a constant check on everyone.
I can feel the nervous tension radiating from him. It’s a tangible heat, raising my body temperature. It doesn’t take a genius to know what we’re about to go through is going to be hard. I don’t know much about Alzheimer’s, but… we’re in a nursing home. I guess that fact alone makes things pretty self-explanatory. I rub my hand up his back, sliding my fingers along his spine and across the broad muscles of his shoulder. “Ry? It’s okay. You’re ready. I’m ready. We can do this.”
His shaky breath nearly crumbles my resolve.
He opens the sliding glass door, and we step out into the afternoon. She’s sitting in a wheelchair, covered with a thick blanket. Her short white hair billows in the breeze. She’s thin. And she looks many years older than she actually is. But I can see her in there. The person she used to be. Vibrant, young, loving, beautiful.
How can I see it?
Because of the way Ry looks at her. The love on his face, the admiration. It tells me she was those things and so much more.
It’s an agape love. A love that’s more than just the word.
“Michael? Is that you?”
He nods for me to take the open seat next to Grandma. I quietly do as I’m told, and he kneels between the two of us.
“No, Grandma, it’s me. Crutch. Grandpa’s not here.”
She smiles and nods, but you can tell that it doesn’t register. She doesn’t know who he is right now.
“You look really good today. I’m glad that it finally warmed up so you could sit outside and enjoy the garden. I know it’s not the same as your orange roses from home, but it’s still nice.”
She turns her face to the sun, ignoring Ry’s attempt at conversation.
“There’s someone really important I want you to meet, Grandma. This is Luella. She’s…” his voice tapers off as he stares into my eyes for a moment, before turning his attention back to her. “Well, she’s mine.” He reaches out and rubs her hand. “Just like Grandpa was yours. Lulu’s mine.”
Oh my god. Shatter my heart. Toss my future hopes and dreams into a burn barrel because nothing else matters in this world except Ry. My Ry.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” I say. I’m not sure what to do, so I just do what I feel like. I reach out and rub her other hand, slowly tracing my fingers across the wrinkles and protruding veins.
“That tickles. Betsy knows how to tickle the best.”
He clears his throat and directs his next comment to me. “Betsy is her older sister. Lives somewhere in Oregon now. I haven’t seen her since I was in middle school.”
“My older sister would always tickle me too,” I say. “She’d tickle me until I couldn’t breathe. It drove me crazy. I hated it. And I loved it.”
She repeats my words. “Hated it. Loved it.”
“Grandma, is there anything you need? Are you thirsty? Are you hungry?”
One of the nurses circles around to us. “Crutch, it’s so good to see you.” He stands up, giving the woman a hug. She’s older than us, but still young. You can tell she finds him attractive, but she doesn’t ogle him the way most young women do. I’m pleased to see a wedding ring on her finger.
“Yeah, it’s been a while.”
He doesn’t offer any other explanation, and I feel bad. Have I been occupying too much of his time? Has he not been able to visit with his grandmother because of me? Have I been selfishly monopolizing all his free time?
“Claire, this is Ella, my girlfriend. Claire is one of Grandma’s nurses.”
I make a move to stand up, but Grandma grabs my hand, clutching it tight.
Claire chuckles. “Uh-oh. Looks like you’ve made a friend.”
“How bad has it gotten?” he asks Claire. “She looks thinner. She remembered Grandpa’s name when I got here, thought I was him. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? I mean, that she remembered him today?”
Claire shakes her head, tugging him by the elbow. “You know my rules, Crutch.”
He looks over at me. “I’ll be right back. Are you okay here?”
I nod. “I’m fine. Go talk.”
I watch as Ry and Claire walk toward the middle of the courtyard and stop. They talk for several minutes. Ry’s emotions seem to be all over the place. One minute he’s gesturing angrily with his fingers, and the next, he’s dragging his hands through his hair with a distraught look on his face. Eventually, they break apart, and he walks in the opposite direction from me.
Claire wanders back over, smiling professionally. “She really likes apple juice. I sent him to the cafeteria for some juice.”
“Oh, okay.” I think I see Grandma shiver so I wrap the blanket more snugly around her.
“He’s never brought anyone to visit her before.”
“He hasn’t?”
Claire shakes her head and uses a Kleenex to wipe some moisture from underneath Grandma’s nose. “No, you must be very special to him.”
He’s very special to me.
“I made him walk away because I don’t talk about my patients’ conditions in front of them. I hated when my parents would talk about me like I wasn’t in the room. Like if I got in trouble or something? I can’t help but think they,” she nods her head at Grandma, “feel the same way.”
I nod. “That makes sense. I was in the hospital once with bronchitis. I was very young, but I still remember it. And you’re right, I hated when people talked about me while I was lying right there in a hospital bed.”
“I saw the look on your face when Crutch mentioned he hadn’t been out here to visit in a while. I’ve been here for five years already so I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people. Just so you know, you haven’t prevented him from coming out here. You’re not the reason. Crutch is a masculine guy, macho. Believe it or not, they take stuff like this the hardest. They are fixers. And this is something they can’t fix. They’re completely and totally helpless with this disease. It’s easier on their hearts if they avoid it. Easier on their souls. But you have nothing to worry about. She’s getting the very best care here. She doesn’t know if he comes to visit once a day or once a year. All that matters is she knows that he cares. Which she does. She knows.”
Claire stops talking when she sees Ry walking back up. She gently pats him on the shoulder. “Holler if you need me.”
Kneeling back on the ground, he pops a straw in the juice box. “You okay?”
I grab his hand. “Of course, I’m okay. Your two best girls were just counting down the seconds until you returned.” I playfully wink.
Ry smiles. “You hear that, Grandma? My two best girls. What do you think of that?” She mumbles something. “Here, I got your favorite—apple juice. Let’s show Lulu how you drink out of a straw.”
Like a toddler, Grandma slowly sips from the straw. When juice dribbles down her chin, Ry wipes it with the sleeve of his shirt.
We sit and visit for another thirty minutes. Talking and receiving no feedback. Asking questions and receiving answers that make no sense. And finally playing along to a childhood memory of Grandma going to the park. Or at least, that’s what we think she’s talking about.
When we get back out to the truck, Ry doesn’t open the doors. He lowers the tailgate and together we sit, studying the sun as it lowers behind the nursing home, shading it in streaks of pink and orange and red.
“I’m sorry I assumed your grandmother had passed away. I’m glad to know she’s alive.”
He turns to me. “Is she?”
“Huh?”
“Is she alive? She can’t chew her food because she forgets how to do it so they blend her food. She can’t even use the restroom properly. My grandma has to wear diapers. And she hasn’t remembered my name in years.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Is that being alive, Lulu?”
I scoot closer to him. “I don’t know the answer to that. And that’s because the answer is different for everyone. Some people wouldn’t wanna live that way. And some people wanna stay on this earth until the very last minute possible. The fact remains that no one with Alzheimer’s has ever miraculously been cured and told everyone else what actually happened to them when they were lost in their own minds, lost in their own thoughts, locked in their own memories. Maybe she knows you and hears everything; she just can’t verbalize it. Or physically show it.” I shrug, sighing. “At least, that’s my thoughts on the matter.”
Ry jumps off the truck and walks around to the side, shielding himself from view. I don’t follow him. He needs a few minutes of space, and I graciously give him that. Eventually, he comes back around. His eyes are a little red, but he would never in a million years admit to crying.
Suffocating.
My love for him is suffocating me like a fucking pillow over my head.
He leans against the tailgate, trapping me between his arms. His muscles flex and his jaw twitches. He is breathtakingly handsome when he’s vulnerable. A shooting star that I can’t believe fell within my reach.
“I guess that wasn’t much of a fun surprise, huh?”
I slide my arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer with my legs. “It was one of the best afternoons of my life. You gave me something special today, Ry. You gave me your trust. I’d call that a pretty good surprise.”
He bends down and gently kisses my lips. When he pulls away, he caresses the side of my face with his hands, tracing the curve of my jaw, the circle of my cheek, and slant of my nose. He runs his fingers through my hair, causing a tickle in the back of my throat. Lifting a strand to his face, he inhales deeply, smelling the remaining scent of my coconut shampoo.
Content with his perusal of my body, he lifts me by the waist and sets me on the ground, slamming the tailgate closed. “Come on. I told Harlan we would pick up dinner and eat with him before his poker buddies show up.”