Chapter Nine
My office had no windows and smelled like chlorine. I was the first room from the indoor pool. The smell was oddly comforting and reminded me of the indoor community pool where Mom used to do water aerobics when I was a kid.
“The outdoor pool is basically boiling in the summer,” Morgan explained.
“So, the indoor pool is a hot commodity while temps are in the hundreds. We get some slips and falls in the hallway, so if you hear one of the fall alarms go off, just pop your head out and make sure everyone’s breathing. An orderly should be there soon.”
I nodded. “Breathing. Got it.”
“A lot of the residents split for the summer, so the ones that are here are the ones who don’t have second residences or really involved families.
You’ve got to keep an eye out for heat exhaustion.
Through the summer, we prefer the residents to only walk outside after dark and will have golf carts with misters running from their bungalows to the main building. ”
“Smart,” I said with a nod, and managed not to tell her how I was a fragile LA flower and didn’t handle fluctuation in weather well. Or at all.
“And that’s your name tag. You don’t actually have to wear it, but sometimes no matter how many times you tell a resident your name, they’ll call you whatever they’ve decided your name is.
One former resident called me Lydia for a year.
She even left some of her designer costume jewelry to me, but no one knew who Lydia was so it took the family a while to figure that one out. ”
“Lydia isn’t even close to Morgan,” I said as I began to shuffle through the paperwork left behind from the previous coordinator.
Morgan shrugged, and I expected her to respond with something snarky, but all she said was “Brains are funny things.” She hovered in the doorway for a moment. “I’m glad you ditched the black trash bag aesthetic.”
“Uh, thanks?” Today, I had indeed ditched the black clothes, though I would have hardly described my black tunic yesterday as a trash bag.
I opted for wide-leg teal pants and a brown belt with a white sleeveless shirt that I’d doctored from a men’s vintage button-up, because the severely pointed collar was too good to say no to.
“Word has spread fast about the new activities coordinator,” she continued, “so I’m sure you’ll have a revolving door of opinionated residents all morning. But come see me later and we can talk budget.”
“Hey, have you seen that email I sent over about the new ambulance contract?” a deep voice asked from just beyond my doorframe.
I knew who the voice belonged to without looking up, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking. I had pushed every thought of Eli as far away as I could, but the question of when I might see him next still danced in the recesses of my mind.
He stepped forward into my sight line and his gaze swept my office and paused on the one thing I’d brought to decorate with, the award I’d stolen from Brody as a parting gift.
“Yes,” Morgan told him. “And I have thoughts.”
Eli swallowed and smiled half-heartedly. He’d always been a deeply efficient person and I was certain that Morgan having thoughts was slowing down his process.
Morgan spun on her heel and beckoned for him to follow. “And Vera, good luck with the apartment hunting!”
I swallowed, trying to push back the encroaching panic.
Eli lingered for a minute and then finally said to me, “I’ve got some sexual health clinics I’d like to get on your calendar.”
“I’ll see what we can make work.” I came off a little more abrasive than I’d meant to, but it was hard to reconcile the current Eli, who seemed to be nice-ish if a little bit of a smart-ass still, with the Eli I knew years ago who looked like he couldn’t breathe around me without becoming nauseous.
He studied me curiously before nodding and walking down the hallway in the direction Morgan had come in.
It wasn’t long before the first knock on my door sounded and my Facebook Marketplace friend from last night walked in with a tortoiseshell cane decorated with gold filigree, a baby-blue silk button-down shirt, and bright red glasses. “I told you I’d be your first customer.”
“Bright and early,” I said, already regretting my decision to fess up to what minimal social media bartering knowledge I had. “And I was thinking . . .” I searched for his name.
“Leonard, honey.” He blinked slowly like a cat. “You can call me Leonard.”
“Leonard,” I said with a smile. “I was thinking I might not be the right person for this specific job—”
“You are the activities director, are you not?” he asked in a sharp voice as he sat down. His tone reminded me of the child-hating acting coach Ruby had hired for me when I was eight years old and she was still determined to get me into commercials. “Well, this is an activity I would like to do.”
Ruby was right. I should not have said yes, and now I would have to learn my lesson. “How about you bring your item by tomorrow morning and we’ll see what we can do?”
He stood with a grin that bordered on terrifying. “Tomorrow morning is perfect. But you’ll have to come to me. I’m in one thirty-one. Right next door to Ruby.”
I jotted it down and by the time he was gone, the next resident was slipping in.
The first few hours of my day were endless requests and complaints.
Requests came in the form of more water ballet class times or even a sourdough bread–making class.
The complaints ranged from highly specific (the woman who teaches pottery classes every other week smells like cat pee) to broad and difficult to diagnose (the events lineup is uninspiring).
Just as I was about to close my door for lunch and crawl under my desk to play Wordle while I questioned every choice that had brought me to this moment, a familiar face appeared.
“First days are always shitty,” Hollis said as she stepped inside and leaned against the short filing cabinet near the far wall. She wore white pleated linen shorts, a matching vest, and Ray-Bans tucked into her tousle of cropped silver hair.
“Who said I was having a shitty day?” I asked, my voice falsely bright.
She stood there quietly, and something about the way she was willing to indefinitely wait out a long and awkward silence reminded me of Eli.
“Well,” I finally relented, “it seems like your crowd is a tough audience.”
She nodded. “Well, I suppose you spend every day of your life working and it’s hard not to feel like you’re owed a certain kind of life at the end.
For some people, that’s a daily knitting group and food that’s easily chewable, but for a lot of us .
. . well, it’s a time when we can finally let ourselves indulge in everything we resisted. ”
“Is that what you’re doing with Ruby?” I asked. “Indulging?”
She chuckled at my hard-hitting question. “Or is that what Ruby’s doing with me?”
“Sorry.” I shook my head. I liked Hollis. A lot. “It’s not my business, but I . . . I was surprised to see her . . .”
“With a woman?” she asked. “There’s a lot more about Ruby that might surprise you.”
Yeah, I didn’t think I needed to learn any more surprises about my own grandmother anytime soon. “Some stones are best left unturned. So, you got any tips for how I can liven things up around here without getting fired?”
“The residents are . . . curious. And horny. Nostalgic too.”
“Well, maybe we could look at doing some themed events, but I don’t think they’ll let me host a Starlight Palms–sanctioned orgy.”
“Of course not,” Hollis said with a laugh.
“But there are things you can do to give them—us . . . agency. To remind us that we’re adults.
You know, there are people here like me and Ruby who have chosen to be here, but a lot of the residents you’ll meet were brought here by loved ones who couldn’t physically take care of an aging family member, which is understandable.
Or they were brought here because there’s no real guide on what to do with the aging people in your life.
It’s easy to forget that we’re just as alive .
. . even though we’re closer to death than the rest of you. ”
I nodded and only then did I notice my eyes beginning to water. Had I ever done that to my mother? Forgotten that she was still alive even when she was so close to the end?
Hollis reached over my desk to catch a single tear with her thumb. She smirked. “In the end, we’re all sluts and then we die.”
“Words to live by.”
“You’re going to do great. Sign me and Ruby up for your events,” she called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
“Which ones?” I asked.
“All of them!”
I snorted. Ruby was going to love that.
After crawling under my desk for my promised Wordle time and a few panicked texts to Tess, I dove into the colossal binder and began to brainstorm.
I wrote down anything that came to mind no matter how impossible it felt.
Some of my ideas were very adult in nature and others were nostalgic or practical.
cooking with marijuana
sex toy shopping party
synchronized swimming
understanding social media and social media etiquette
monologue workshop
movie screenings for residents’ old films
navigating cell phones
entertainment memorabilia swap meet
speed dating
field trips!
By the time Morgan came around to discuss my budget, I was buzzing with possibilities and I was surprised to learn that my budget wasn’t . . . nothing. And this was coming from someone who used to have to run out to pick up two-hundred-dollar undershirts for her boss every three weeks.
Whether these residents were choosing to be here or this place was their only option, I could at least try to make it worth their money and time . . . because time certainly was not on their side.
EXT. YOU SCREAM ICE CREAM—TWILIGHT
Arlo is eating a cone as Poppy turns the shop light off and begins to spray down tables.
POPPY
We’re closed.
ARLO
But you’re still here?
POPPY
I work here.
ARLO
I should probably work here too, then.
POPPY
What about your calling as world’s worst barista?
ARLO
My talents are needed elsewhere.
Poppy hands Arlo a spray bottle for him to help her clean up. He does so with gusto.
January 26, 2014
Vera S
Note to my twenty-two-year-old self: This is not how getting a job actually works. There’s this thing called an interview.