Page 67 of Escaping Our Reality

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 anursing 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?”

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