Page 68 of Escaping Our Reality

One of the nurses circles around to us. “Crutch, it’s so good to see you.” He stands up, giving the woman a hug. She’s older than us, but still young. You can tell she finds him attractive, but she doesn’t ogle him the way most young women do. I’m pleased to see a wedding ring on her finger.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

He doesn’t offer any other explanation, and I feel bad. Have I been occupying too much of his time? Has he not been able to visit with his grandmother because of me? Have I been selfishly monopolizing all his free time?

“Claire, this is Ella, my girlfriend. Claire is one of Grandma’s nurses.”

I make a move to stand up, but Grandma grabs my hand, clutching it tight.

Claire chuckles. “Uh-oh. Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

“How bad has it gotten?” he asks Claire. “She looks thinner. She remembered Grandpa’s name when I got here, thought I was him. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? I mean, that she remembered him today?”

Claire shakes her head, tugging him by the elbow. “You know my rules, Crutch.”

He looks over at me. “I’ll be right back. Are you okay here?”

I nod. “I’m fine. Go talk.”

I watch as Ry and Claire walk toward the middle of the courtyard and stop. They talk for several minutes. Ry’s emotions seem to be all over the place. One minute he’s gesturing angrily with his fingers, and the next, he’s dragging his hands through his hair with a distraught look on his face. Eventually, they break apart, and he walks in the opposite direction from me.

Claire wanders back over, smiling professionally. “She really likes apple juice. I sent him to the cafeteria for some juice.”

“Oh, okay.” I think I see Grandma shiver so I wrap the blanket more snugly around her.

“He’s never brought anyone to visit her before.”

“He hasn’t?”

Claire shakes her head and uses a Kleenex to wipe some moisture from underneath Grandma’s nose. “No, you must be very special to him.”

He’s very special to me.

“I made him walk away because I don’t talk about my patients’ conditions in front of them. I hated when my parents would talk about me like I wasn’t in the room. Like if I got in trouble or something? I can’t help but think they,” she nods her head at Grandma, “feel the same way.”

I nod. “That makes sense. I was in the hospital once with bronchitis. I was very young, but I still remember it. And you’re right, I hated when people talked about me while I was lying right there in a hospital bed.”

“I saw the look on your face when Crutch mentioned he hadn’t been out here to visit in a while. I’ve been here for five years already so I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people. Just so you know, you haven’t prevented him from coming out here. You’re not the reason. Crutch is a masculine guy, macho. Believe it or not, they take stuff like this the hardest. They are fixers. And this is something they can’t fix. They’re completely and totally helpless with this disease. It’s easier on their hearts if they avoid it. Easier on their souls. But you have nothing to worry about. She’s getting the very best care here. She doesn’t know if he comes to visit once a day or once a year. All that matters is she knows that he cares. Which she does. She knows.”

Claire stops talking when she sees Ry walking back up. She gently pats him on the shoulder. “Holler if you need me.”

Kneeling back on the ground, he pops a straw in the juice box. “You okay?”

I grab his hand. “Of course, I’m okay. Your two best girls were just counting down the seconds until you returned.” I playfully wink.

Ry smiles. “You hear that, Grandma? My two best girls. What do you think of that?” She mumbles something. “Here, I got your favorite—apple juice. Let’s show Lulu how you drink out of a straw.”

Like a toddler, Grandma slowly sips from the straw. When juice dribbles down her chin, Ry wipes it with the sleeve of his shirt.

We sit and visit for another thirty minutes. Talking and receiving no feedback. Asking questions and receiving answers that make no sense. And finally playing along to a childhood memory of Grandma going to the park. Or at least, that’s what we think she’s talking about.

When we get back out to the truck, Ry doesn’t open the doors. He lowers the tailgate and together we sit, studying thesun as it lowers behind the nursing home, shading it in streaks of pink and orange and red.

“I’m sorry I assumed your grandmother had passed away. I’m glad to know she’s alive.”

He turns to me. “Is she?”

“Huh?”

---