Page 1 of Levee

CHAPTER ONE

Jade

“You’re a nice girl,” William said in that gruff, grumpy way he always spoke. Like the whole world had screwed him over. And, I guess, if he was still living in a building like this in his golden years, that was likely true. “Stupid name, but a nice girl,” he said, making me barely resist the urge to roll my eyes as I pushed his wheelchair down the hallway toward his apartment.

William lived directly across the hall from me, still residing in the home his father had lived in. And died in a few years ago, I was told by the super when I moved in, face grim, looking more than a little perturbed by the idea.

I dunno. I guess when it came to deaths, at home in your own bed at an old age seemed like the way to go. We should all be so lucky.

“Well, I didn’t have a hand in my name,” I said, bending lower to put more of my weight into my push. I didn’t know if I was too weak, William too bulky for me, or if the wheelchair was faulty, but my arms were feeling like jelly already.

“True,” he agreed. “Got a nephew named Levee. Can you believe it? Stupid fucking name. Stupid fucking kid too,” he said as I resisted the urge to sigh.

What can I say? I wasn’t a fan of listening to people trash-talk others. Especially when the others were family members. But, I guess, if this man was having mobility issues and living all alone with no help, this nephew of his couldn’t be much to write home about.

It never ceased to break my heart how poorly we took care of our elderly. Even if they were crotchety old men like William. I figured if I was old, achy, relying on a wheelchair, and still trying to do all my usual daily living tasks, I’d be grouchy too.

“I have a sibling named Peridot,” I confided. “But we call him Perry,” I added.

“Was your mom a drunk?” he asked, making my brows shoot up.

I had to take a second to make sure my tone didn’t come off as snippy. “No, she was… a bit of a free spirit,” I told him.

“Hippy,” he scowled as I turned his chair around, so I could use my back to push open his door.

“Yeah, I guess that is one way to put it,” I agreed, wrinkling my nose at the odor in his apartment. It was a mix of dust, sweat, cigarette smoke—despite it being a smoke-free building—and that acrid undercurrent of rotten fruit.

“Do you need some help moving onto your chair?” I asked, spying the recliner that, once upon a time, had likely been a beige and white stripe, but time and grime had made it a stained brown shade on the seat and back.

“Not a fucking invalid,” he snapped, making me bite back my instinct to tell him that word was not appropriate anymore. If it ever was in the first place.

I was just doing a good deed.

It wasn’t my place to give the man a lecture in the process.

“Okay then. How about I take the trash with me when I go? I’m heading that way anyway,” I added, hoping to avoid him getting offended again.

“Fine. Whatever,” he said, grunting and cursing as he nearly toppled his wheelchair as he tried to stand.

Stubborn old man, I thought to myself as I went to his small kitchen, an almost exact replica of mine—though my appliances were a solid decade newer and not stained yellow with tobacco residue—and pulled the top off of his trash can.

Checking to make sure he wasn’t looking, I quickly tossed the congealed bananas—a whole bunch!—and fuzzy mandarin oranges into the bag before pulling it out and cinching it. I added a new bag and replaced the top before turning back to William.

“Can I do anything else for you before I head out?” I asked as he lit a cigarette, making me want to flee as quickly as possible. Not much bothered me quite as much as smelling cigarette smoke on my clothes and in my hair.

“Open that window,” he said, waving at one of the ones at the other side of the living room, almost entirely covered in years of grime that needed to be cleaned off to let any kind of sunlight in.

I resisted the urge to clean them myself, reminding myself that it wasn’t my place. Especially when he didn’t seem like he wanted much help.

I rushed across the living room holding my breath, yanking open the window, and wondering why the hell he wanted to let the muggy air in.

“Okay, William, I’ll see you around,” I said, gathering the heavy trash bag. He clearly didn’t get around to taking out often with his mobility problems.

“Yep,” he said, already half forgetting about my existence.

“If you need anything, holler,” I told him, getting nothing but a dismissive wave.

Well then.

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