Love and Hope at the *Another Day* Nursing Home
Short story — Part II
Part 1
Back at Another Day Nursing Home, Annette slopped dishes in soapy water, rinsing them, letting her mind wander back to her day with Dorothea at the salon. They’d gotten their hair cut and styled and had a few chuckles while they were with the boisterous stylists, one of whom shamelessly flirted with Annette. And, she flirted right back. Would she and Tomas end up being an item? Maybe. It was nice to daydream about anyway.
Ginny had made her way from her nursing home room to the dining room and poked her head into the kitchen to say hi to her friend, Annette.
Annette glanced up and smiled at Ginny.
“Don’t you look like the cat who ate the canary!” Ginny tittered. “We’ll talk later, okay.” It was an order, not a request. “When you get off your shift, come to my room and tell me about it. I want in on the details.”
Ginny recognized Annette’s love-struck look and remembered the first time she felt that way. What was the harm in a bit of nostalgia and vicarious living any way? She chuckled as she headed to her place and side-eyed the explosion of mashed potatoes without any of the good stuff — butter, salt and pepper, cheese, and unsweetened iced tea.
Could this place really remove all of life’s simple pleasures? Ginny wondered. She stirred the fork around in the muck and remembered scolding her kids for playing with their food.
But her cooking hadn’t been this bad.
She tried not to look at Harv, the gentlemen who sat across from her. A steady stream of drool dripped from the left side of his mouth. He’d been drooling like this since he’d had a bad stroke a few years back. Ginny was sorry for Harv but repulsed by the sight, especially as she tried to eat. She kept going back and forth on whether or not to request a new seating assignment, but so far, guilt kept her from asking.
Suddenly, Ginny remembered that she’d tucked a letter away from her daughter, Maggie, without reading it. She decided to go back to her room, eat from the stockpile of cookies and crackers for supper, and read the letter.
This letter was about to change her life, and in a few months, she almost wished she’d never seen the darn thing.
Ginny’s roommate, Lydia Lee, arrived two weeks later, with lots of expired Avon perfumes and cans of fruit to line the shelves of her closet. She was an odd one. Ginny remembered back to her best friend, Adelia, who’d said, “I never knew it till now, but it’s true what my husband said before he died: ‘It’s a downright cryin’ shame that we have to get all achy and old’.”
And a goddamn roommate at 82, that’s the real sad part of all this.
Ginny sighed. Her room had never smelt so bad, with a scent of rotting lilac and rose and that syrupy sweet odor of canned peaches.
That damn Lydia Lee was one to boss, too. Just yesterday, she’d told Ginny to go to her side of the bathroom and scrub because it just wasn’t up to par with Lydia Lee’s side.
Well, Ginny wasn’t going to be bossed like that, so she went to play dominoes and suffer through the boredom of bible trivia. Anything was better than hearing Lydia Lee’s nags slipping through the corners of her uptight mouth.
Elaine was sitting in a hard chair with her high-heeled feet crossed tightly and her bust sticking up and out. Every hair on her head was perfectly in place and a healthy glow emanated from her. She wasn’t overly made-up.
Ginny didn’t care for Elaine, the front desk girl. She reminded Ginny of her own lost beauty.
It’s hard when a peacock starts to lose its feathers.
Ginny stared down at her breasts that were almost resting on her belly. Guys used to whistle when she walked down the street. She was well aware of the nice rack she had; just a shame it had traveled so far south.
Wrinkles and veins were starting to take over the once smooth skin of her hands, but she tried to keep a positive outlook because she didn’t like the alternative.
After all, her face still looked good compared to everything else. And, she had been cursed with only one age spot so far. That, thankfully, was on her hand and not her face.
Oh, from her twenties, she knew vanity would be her Achilles heel in this lifetime.
When Ginny couldn’t take any more of faking she liked Elaine, she headed back to what was starting to feel like Lydia Lee’s — and only Lydia Lee’s — room. There was a flicker of light showing under their closed door, but it was quiet inside. Ginny entered the room, hoping for a sleeping Lydia Lee.
But, it was before 10 PM. Usually, Lydia Lee was up until past midnight, poking around the room, sorting through cans of fruit, boxes of pictures, and tons of odd containers.
This evening, Ginny was surprised to see Lydia Lee sitting on the edge of her twin bed, little packets of sugar strewn about, a cup of ice in her hand, the cubes coated with all that sugar, and what looked like the edge of a very old quilt clutched in her left hand. Tiny silent tears were traveling down Lydia Lee’s cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I, uh, didn’t know you were…busy,” Ginny said.
“Oh, Ginny, I’m glad you’re back. I-I know that I haven’t been the best roommate,” Lydia Lee sniffled, “but my daughter just tricked me into coming to this place. I miss my cats and my kitchen.”
“You’re telling me the truth. It seems like us old folks start to show our age spots and forget a few things, and we’re just too much to handle, so they think it’s best for us to come live in a place like this, but look around. I mean half of these people really do need to be here. The people who snap at the nurses and have aggressive episodes, but then there are people like us….”
“Exactly. I know we have some strange quirks, like me and all my canned fruit, but that keeps me regular, and it sure tastes better than that glop the kitchen serves us on those fancy plates,” Lydia Lee said. “Well, hon, I’m tuckered out. I think the sheep are calling me,” and with that, Lydia Lee shut off the light by her bedside.
Ginny smiled to herself. Maybe this roommate wouldn’t be so bad after all. Plus, now she had a mystery to work out. What exactly did that quilt mean to Lydia Lee anyway? She had a feeling many yarns could be spun off that old quilt and the two ladies would have to start chatting with each other about their lives. Maybe this new roommate would even be willing to help Ginny with her plan of escape.
The idea had occurred to her many times, but she felt that she would need a partner to pull the whole thing off properly.
Well, I guess I just have to be patient and feel her out before I bring that up. Still, at least I know that she’s a little bit crazy. And since when did I have anything against a little crazy?! I’ve got a little bit of that myself.
And, on that note, Ginny started getting ready for bed and scheming dreams.
Lydia Lee found herself cognizant that she was in a strange dream and decided to check out her surroundings.
There was a house that had the feel of her childhood home but wasn’t an exact replica. Lydia Lee was about ten years old and wearing a white cotton nightgown. She felt like exploring the house. She was always curious and convincing friends to search everywhere for secret nooks and crannies.
This evening, however, Lydia Lee was alone, and that made her whole effort, well, a little creepy. Especially because in the dream, she was ten years old. Somehow, she happened upon a room that set on top of her mother’s bedroom.
The second room had walls made of glass. It looked like it hadn’t been touched since Lydia Lee’s great grandmother’s time here. What really caught her eye were the candles on the dining room table.
They were lit.
Lydia Lee, feeling brave, strutted up to the table and blew them out. When after a few minutes the candle’s flames flickered again, she took another look around the room. She could have sworn she saw an old white-haired lady taking a swig out of a little whiskey bottle before walking away from the lit candles with a box of matches in her hand. Of course, this part had Lydia Lee frozen in her dream-tracks, but not in her bed.
It gave her the kind of fright that sends you jolting straight up in bed in the middle of the night.
The room was dark and Lydia Lee could hear Ginny snoring away in her twin bed. She got up and popped the top of a can of fruit, thinking about the strange dream and wondering if it might be a sign for something. Well, she never really did believe in those silly dream interpretations and horoscopes and such anyway.
At least not much.
She held back a snob and came up with a sniffle thinking about the two boxer pups that this damn center wouldn’t have living there.
“Ginny? Ginny?” Lydia Lee whisper-yelled.
“Yeah?” Ginny answered groggily.
“What would you say to us planning a way to get out of this joint?”
“Yes, of course,” Ginny said.
“Oh. Good. Well, goodnight then.” Lydia Lee fell back asleep with a smile plastered on her face.
The next day, Annette came by Ginny’s room to reveal her infatuation with Thomas. Ginny was absolutely giddy. She still loved the rush of feeding off of someone else’s crush the same way she did when she was a schoolgirl. Plus, she and Lydia Lee had other things to feel giddy about, too. She wasn’t sure where their adventures would leave, and honestly, she didn’t care. To have some adventure in life makes life a helluva lot more enjoyable. Yes, they’d have fun. Yes, if they got caught, they’d get in trouble.
It was worth the risk.
You might also like my fiction list or these short stories:😵💫 Don't Tell Sela It's All In Her Head
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