Page 10 of Gone Tonight
And it kept me out of the house every afternoon, which meant lesstime around my mother, who went from giddy to morose to mean in the hours between lunch and dinner.
Coach announced we were all going to Pizza Piazzo, where Brittany’s mom was going to generously treat us all to dinner. Mrs. Davis stood up and waved like she was Miss America when he said that. Then Coach said we’d be electing this year’s captain at dinner.
I wanted nothing more than to dash into school and greedily gulp from the water fountain, but I grabbed my backpack and headed to the parking lot along with everyone else. Brittany’s mom announced she had room for six girls in her giant SUV that I’m pretty sure fit eight and Coach said he could fit five in his pickup truck.
Magic number eleven again.
I’m sure Brittany thought she’d screwed me over, but I didn’t care that I was odd man out. Timmy was waiting for me, and I needed to drop him at home before I went to the restaurant.
I pulled the keys to my Dodge Dart out of the inside pocket of my backpack, then slid behind the steering wheel and drove the half mile to the middle school. Timmy was on the front steps, reading a comic book. When I tooted the horn, he looked up with a big smile.
Timmy never complained about anything. He may have looked more like our mom, but on the inside, he was our dad.
I asked how school was as he climbed into the back seat. Apparently, he’d gotten extra Tater Tots at lunch, which was all it took to make his day a win.
Then I told him I had to go out, but that Dad would be home soon. His smile disappeared. I quickly said he could just hang out in the backyard until Dad got home. He told me he would, and that he’d be really quiet.
I glanced at Timmy’s profile in the rearview mirror. In that moment, he seemed to be suspended between a kid who liked cartoons and someone much older.
By the time we got to the house, my dad’s car was in the driveway. I breathed out in relief and waved to Timmy as he slipped in through the kitchen door.
I wanted to skip going for pizza, especially since I’d arrive twentyminutes late, but I’d already learned the hard way that any sign of retreat only emboldened Brittany.
When I walked into Pizza Piazzo, the girls were seated around a long rectangular table, with Coach Franklin at the head and Mrs. Davis to his right. Brittany was reigning over it all from a spot in the middle. I heard her laugh spill out as I approached. Brittany had piled her backpack and purse on the lone unoccupied chair. I knew she wouldn’t move them until I’d asked at least twice.
I was hot and tired and still so thirsty. The last thing I wanted to do was sit there for the next hour, faking a smile and enduring whatever else Brittany and her mom had cooked up for me. I felt my tears rise and I quickly blinked them away.
Then I heard a low, soft voice asking if he could help me.
I turned and found myself looking at a guy who was a little older than me—maybe nineteen. He was a dead ringer for James Spader, who’d starred in this movie called Sex, Lies, and Videotape I’d seen a while back. Most of the girls in my class were obsessed with James Van Der Beek or Leonardo DiCaprio, but James Spader was my current crush.
My mouth was probably hanging open as I stared at him.
He moved closer, repeating himself a little more loudly as he asked again if he could help me.
And I swear, Catherine, he did.
That night, the waiter with kind eyes did more than help me. He saved me.
CHAPTER SEVENCATHERINE
Sunrise Senior Living is divided into three levels: Daily Assisted, Extended Care, and the Memory Wing.
When I began working here right after I graduated high school, I was assigned to the Daily Assisted tier. The people in Daily Assisted are mostly independent, though some use walkers or require help getting dressed. They read large-print books, FaceTime their grandkids, and invite each other over for cocktail hour. A few of them still drive. For those who didn’t, I often used the Sunrise van to take them to a nearby strip mall so they could shop or enjoy lunch.
As I gained experience and drew closer to earning my nursing degree, I moved to the next tier, Extended Care. These residents need help transferring in and out of bed and with medication oversight. Most have lost spouses and friends. Their worlds are inexorably shrinking. When I entered their rooms, their faces lit up, even if I was just coming to bring them a glass of Ensure or close their curtains.
I began working in the Memory Wing a year ago.
It’s a different universe.
After I drop my mother at Sam’s and arrive at Sunrise, I reach for the bag in the back seat that contains two pairs of socks, a set of stackable measuring cups with one missing, a baby doll dressed in a onesie,and—the treasure from my latest Goodwill run—piano compositions by Claude Debussy on an unscratched CD.
I walk through the lobby and greet the front-desk attendant as I flash my ID and use the computer to sign in, then head to the main floor employees’ locker room to slip on the extra scrubs I keep there. The locker room is empty, but in the attached kitchen there’s a loaf of banana bread on the countertop next to a card with the wordsThank Youwritten in blue shimmery script.
I’ve only had coffee today—my stomach was too twisted before my mother’s appointment to accept solid food—so even though I’m not hungry, I walk over and peel back the Saran Wrap and cut a slice. If I’m going to work today, I’ll need the energy.
The card is from the daughter of a resident, expressing her appreciation for our help in caring for her father.
