Page 13 of When You Had Me Adapting

“Okay, but can we figure it out when we have more time? I need to get gas on the way to work.”

She offers me an understanding smile, stands and walks over to the fridge whiteboard and writes: “TALK ABOUT JACE!” in big letters.

Noted.

“Ms. Clara,it’s Lacey. You ready for occupational therapy?” I knock on the door of room 307.

“Come in, dear,” she hollers from the other side of the door.

I walk into the small apartment. Framed pictures of Ms. Clara’s grandchildren cover the walls above a worn plaid covered couch. I spy her sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing a hot pink mumu covered in different colored hearts. The covers are bunched up and the fitted sheet is barely hanging on to the mattress. Her short, white curls are flattened on one side. She’s taking her medications from a tiny white cup while one of the nurses stands over her watching. She turns her head and smiles.

“Oh good, you’re here. Please tell Marie I don’t need to take all of these damn pills.”

I slap on the biggest customer service smile I can muster. “Now, Ms. Clara, you know those help you to feel good.”

“Girls, don’t get old,” she deadpans. “It’s a bitch.”

Marie takes the white cup and gives me a look that tells me my favorite resident is definitely in one of her moods this morning before moving past me and onto the next patient.

I walk over, grab her walker, and place it in front of her. Then I search the space for her shoes. “Did you have a good weekend?” I ask.

“It was the same as it always is,” she laughs. “Ethel and I played bridge. She cheated and I lost.”

I help her put on her shoes and assist her when she stands. We both walk toward the bathroom. “I thought Wren told me y’all were having some type of luau party? Did you go?”

She scoffs. “Honey, it was a party full of old people. I have better things to do than be reminded about how old I am. You tell Wren we ladies have been talking and we think some young eye candy would help liven the place up a bit. I’m sure she could organize a show or something.” She winks at me and then moves her walker into the tiny bathroom.

I swallow down a laugh.

With my help, Ms. Clara moves through her morning routine. Once we’re finished, I assist her in moving to her favorite chair.

“Would you mind handing me my book before you leave?” She points across the room to a well-loved paperback sitting on her bedside table. A Fabio-looking man in an unbuttoned shirt and a kilt is on the cover. His shoulder length hair is blowing in the wind.Go, Ms. Clara.I hand it to her without a word.

“Thank you, dear. Us old ladies gotta get some somehow.”

I turn and head toward the door trying to keep my face neutral. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The Tortured Therapists Department

Lacey: 307 has requested a Magic Mike strip tease at the next party!

Wren: Noted.

Gray:

CHAPTER 7: WE HATE JACE FOR NO FUCKING REASON CLUB

JACE

“Hey, Dad,” I say, walking toward where he stands, unloading a backpack from the trunk of his car.

“Hey, kid.” He wraps me up in a big hug and kisses my cheek. “Ready to hike?”

“Yeah.” Bending down, I tug on the laces of my hiking boots making them a little tighter. “You’ve been here before?” He nods and I look around and see a dozen groups of people spread around the parking lot. Most of the groups are young couples. Some of the men have toddlers on their shoulders. A few even brought their dogs.

There’s a tug at my heart, but I ignore it.

“Is it usually this busy on a weekday?”

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