Chapter Twenty-Two
Joyful Movement had become the most popular class at Bayview. Previous activities directors had chosen golden oldies for the playlist, but Joy hated that. Why be reminded of a youth that was fifty or sixty years ago when all these dead singers were at their peak? She’d kept a few classics, but filled in most spaces with Britney, Rihanna, Eminem, Bruno Mars, Cardi B and Justin Timberlake (though she’d had to replace a song or two when Evelyn started singing “Put your filthy hands all over me” in the hallways). Aretha always got everyone jazzed. “Get those arms up over your head, Florence,” Joy yelled. “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to you! Atta boy, Hugh! Okay, boxing moves here, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, that’s right!”
The residents loved it. One guy, Gary, came to every class, even though he wasn’t in the Memory Care Unit. He always made meaningful eye contact when “I’m a Slave 4 U” came on, but Joy ignored him.
Her makeup class had gone over well, though she wouldn’t try false eyelashes again, since three clients had had glue incidents, one requiring a nurse to get her eyelid unstuck. Lesson learned. Another day, she’d blown up balloons and had them play slow-motion volleyball. There were upscale field trips for the higher-functioning residents of Bayview—museums, art fairs, fishing—but Joy let the other directors head those up. She stayed in Memory Care, but more and more, the regular residents were migrating to her sessions. She liked finding things no other activities director had done yet. For example, today’s class.
“A lot of you might have some muscle memory with this,” she said from her table in the crafts room. “You fold the paper in half, then open it up so you have a nice crease. Put the filter on the end, then sprinkle, oh, let’s say, a quarter teaspoon right in there. Make sure it’s ground up. You don’t want big chunks in there. Even it out and then just roll, lick the paper so it will stick, like so. Then tamp it down and twist the end, and voilà! You have a joint.”
“So easy,” said Etsie, who was in her late eighties and sharp as a tack. Another person from the regular unit who’d been dropping in on her classes.
“You just have to buy your own weed,” Joy said. “I’m a lot of things, but a drug dealer isn’t one of them.” Everyone laughed. The class was full today.
“Excuse me!” came a voice. Oh. It was Meredith, the sour-faced daughter of Etsie. “Are you actually teaching my mother to roll a joint?”
“Marijuana is legal here, and yes,” Joy said.
“It was more of a refresher,” Etsie said.
“You can’t do that!”
“Why?” Joy asked.
“Because she’s…” Meredith lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Impaired.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Meredith,” Etsie said. “I am not, and if you keep this up, I’m changing my will. If I need a little toke to relax and help with my knee pain, I can do that.”
“Just not inside,” Joy reminded her. “We are a nonsmoking facility. Now, obviously, gummies are easier on the lungs. Edibles take a little longer to relax you, and I recommend starting off with a half if you haven’t tried it before.”
“Oh, come on. We were all alive in the summer of love,” said Ward, who was crushing on Etsie. “We know what grass is. But I do appreciate the class. Never did have to roll my own.”
“Every dispensary carries pre-rolls, too,” Joy said.
“Think we can get the Bayview bus to take us to one?” asked Gertrude.
“I can ask,” Joy said. “Okay. Who wants to play Cards Against Humanity?”
“I can’t believe they were making us play bingo when this game was out there,” Etsie said. “I laughed so hard last time, I wet myself.”
“It happens to the best of us,” Joy said. “Meredith? Want to stay?”
Meredith did not. Oh, well.
As Joy drove home that night, she was aware of an unfamiliar feeling sitting in her chest. What was the word? Kind of like satisfied or after you had a good meal…
Fulfillment. Yes. She hadn’t been shopping in days. Not even online, and for her, that was a record. Her last chemical peel had been months ago, and while she knew she could ask Lark for a Botox session, she always seemed to forget these days.
She didn’t dread being home anymore. She loved home now, loved having Ellie there, though that wasn’t guaranteed to go on forever. But for now, she and Ellie took turns cooking. Joy! Cooking food!
“If you can read, you can cook,” Ellie had said. “It doesn’t have to be fancy, but I’m not eating takeout every other night. Too much salt.”
Sometimes Lark came over, too, though her hours didn’t give her much time. She was also doing some volunteer work with dying people, something Joy was going to start, too, as part of her job. But whenever Lark did come, the three of them had so much fun. At least once a week, another one of Ellie’s daughters would join them, too, “just to hang out with you and Mom.” It was wonderful, like a sorority, Joy imagined. Like having nieces.
“I think you and Lark saved me,” she said that evening as she and Ellie were eating arugula salad with beets and pecans (not Joy’s favorite dinner—too healthy—but there was macaroni and cheese in the fridge for later). “I’ve been so lost, and then I got Lark, and then you, Ellie, and now I have a job I love! I can hardly believe it.”
They were sitting on chaise longues on the deck, Joy in a silk caftan with matching wrap, Ellie in jeans and a T-shirt that read Blackbeard’s Bait and Tackle. They couldn’t be more different, Joy thought.
Ellie took a sip of rosé and said, “I don’t know about that. I think you saved yourself. You started by being kind and generous and giving Lark an affordable place to live, and let me tell you, there’s not much out here. Then you gave me a place to stay at the worst moment of my life. And now you’re brightening up the lives of the residents at Bayview. I think what you’re seeing is that you’re happiest when you’re helping someone else.” She glanced at Joy and smiled. “What do you think about that?”
Joy blinked. “I…I never thought I had much to offer.”
“Well, you were wrong. Think about it. When you married Abdul, you were doing it for Paulie and him, so they could be together. You said that was a happy time. And not just because of the money, Joy. Because you helped them be together. This is a happy time because you’re sharing your home with two people who needed it. You’re the one who’s saving people.”
Joy’s throat tightened. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Well, get thinking of it that way, missy.”
“I will.” She pushed some leaves around on her plate. “How are you doing, Ellie? What’s on your mind lately about Gerald?”
She sighed. “Mostly, I feel sad, you know? I trusted him a thousand percent up until this. I’ll never get to do that again. I can forgive him, I think, because he did end it. It wasn’t like he stopped because he was caught. But we’ll never be the same.”
“Do you have to be? It’s like a chip in the windshield, but the windshield hasn’t shattered. It still works.”
“You’re right.” She stared out at the ocean, the sky darkening bit by bit. “I can’t stay here forever.”
“Well, you could.” Joy finished her wine and poured a little more. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s it like, being married to someone who really loves you? Someone you love just as much?” Because with three and a half husbands, Joy had never experienced that. Frankie had loved her, but it wasn’t mutual. Carl had used her, George had abused her and Abdul…well, he had used her, too, even if she signed up for it.
Ellie stared at the horizon. “Oh, it’s…it’s home,” she said with a little shrug. “You feel so safe and accepted and adored. Even if you just let out a huge burp or haven’t showered in three days. You look into each other’s eyes and you just…click into place. You can relax completely and know that just by waking up, you made someone’s day.”
“That sounds nice,” Joy said wistfully.
“It is. It’s so nice. And I do miss it. And him.” She looked at Joy. “Did you know that being here is the closest thing to a vacation I’ve ever had? Being somewhere different, somewhere lovely…Gerald and I never got to do that. Too many kids, too little time, not enough money. It’s been so restful, even though I came here when I was angry and upset and sad.” She reached over and squeezed Joy’s forearm. “Thank you, Joy. You’re a wonderful friend.”
“Stay as long as you want,” Joy said. “You’re a great friend, too. The best friend I’ve ever had, other than my brother.”
They sat there, sipping wine, watching the sun sink into the ocean. The orange and purple clouds lit up, deepened in color, then faded, and still they sat. Two middle-aged women, sitting on a deck, living in the moment. And this moment was perfect.
“I want you to marry me, Joy,” Gary said the next day, cornering her in the library.
They’d finished a rousing hour of karaoke, and Joy was now unpacking a box of books, adding some spicier stuff to the boring old classics they currently had. She’d spent the morning at Open Book, getting recommendations from Destiny, who was always good for a chat (and had an enviable wardrobe). “Make me the happiest man alive.”
“Oh, gosh. That’s very sweet, Gary, but no.”
“Joy. You were meant to be married. I’m a rich man! Make me happy in my final days.” He smiled at her cleavage.
“I’m pretty flush myself, Gary. I don’t need your money.”
“That makes sense. I mean, you look very well maintained. But don’t you want companionship?”
“I have companionship.”
“Of the male variety?”
“No, you have a point there. But would my life really be better if I married you?” she asked.
“You’d have a husband, so of course!” He laughed.
“And?”
His face fell a little. “Romance?”
That sure had been lacking in her life. Frankie had brought her flowers from time to time. Left her notes and stuff like that. Otherwise, her relationships had been about sex (except for Abdul, of course).
“What does romance actually look like?” she asked.
“Oh. Well, I’d, uh, tell you how special you are,” Gary said. “Give you little gifts and flowers. We could take a cruise and hold hands.”
“You’re not really selling it, Gary. I can buy my own gifts and flowers. And book a cruise with my friends.”
“What about…intimacy?” he asked, raising a sparse eyebrow.
“I have a vibrator.”
“I’m better than a vibrator, I hope.”
She looked at him, amused. Bald, a big nose, small eyes, significant gut, hair springing out of his ears like Spanish moss. Men and their confidence.
She was never going to have what Ellie had described. Maybe, if she’d stayed with Frankie, she could’ve felt that sense of home and safety. She’d been too young to appreciate his love back then, too fixated on her outer self and being anyone but who she was. It was time for her to find love, sure. Find love for her own damn self.
“Thanks just the same, but I’ll pass. I bet you could find someone else, though. Someone you’ve known longer than a few weeks.” She patted Gary on the shoulder and walked down the hall.
Once upon a time, Joy Deveaux needed a man to feel worthwhile, to give her an escape, to fill her life, whether it was a husband or, yes, even her brother. Someone to undo the damage wrought by her father, another man.
She was sixty-seven. Yep, there it was, her actual age, first time she’d let herself acknowledge it in years. For the first time ever, she wanted to be independent, not just waiting for someone or something to fix her.
It was quite a…oh, gosh, what was the word? When you thought of something you’d never thought of before? A revelation, that was it! Quite a revelation indeed.