Page 100 of Delay of Game
I led my parents up the stairs and inside, pausing at the front desk.
“Ms. Gracie, nice to see you,” Brenda greeted me with a smile as she set a pen on the visitor log. “And who did you bring with you today?”
“Brenda, these are my parents. Alice and Gary.”
“I think we’ve spoken on the phone.” Mom smiled and held out her hand.
“Of course, it’s so nice that you all made the flight to visit. How long are you staying?”
“Well, we planned to stay for ten days to help spruce up Mercy’s house before putting it on the market.” Dad wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze. “But Gracie here did it herself. So I guess we’ll need to find something else to fill up our days.”
“She’s a sweetheart.” Brenda gave me a warm smile and took back the visitor’s log. “Aunt Mercy is incredibly lucky to have so many loved ones who come and visit.”
“And how is she doing today?” I asked, bracing myself.
Brenda lowered her voice. “She didn’t sleep well last night, but we convinced her to sleep in this morning. I brought her breakfast in bed. She’s tired and a little disoriented, but in a good mood. She should still be in her room. Have a nice visit.”
I led my parents up the stairs and down the hallway to Aunt Mercy’s room. Colorful wreaths decorated the doors, changed out with the season and each personalized with the resident’s name. I paused before knocking, turning back to my parents.
“Her mood is a little more volatile lately. They’re doing what they can with medication, but she might not remember your name. Not at first,” I said, hoping she’d remember my mom at all. Mom wiped the tear away from the corner of her eye with her palm. “And if she doesn’t, let’s just roll with it, okay?”
The request was easier said than done.
I knocked on the door, entering when Aunt Mercy called us in.
“Hi,” I said, ready for the worst but hopeful for the best.
“Gracie, come here.” She sat in her bed, her quilt covering her legs and her gray hair pulled back into a low bun. The breakfast dishes from earlier sat off to the side, barely touched. Dark bags hung from her eyes. Still, she pulled me into a fierce hug.
“Guess who I brought?” I asked, squeezing her back.
She let me go, glassy eyes wandering to my parents. “Alice! You’ve grown!”
Mom burst into tears, collapsing into Aunt Mercy like a child. Aunt Mercy shushed her, rubbing her back until she gathered herself.
“How are you doing, Merc?” Dad approached the bed, setting down the styrofoam encased food on the edge of her side table.
Aunt Mercy’s mouth twisted into a frown, her jaw working to come up with a name.
“Gary,” Dad said.
“Right, silly me. My mind these days. Come here, Gary.” A faint flicker of confusion passed over her face before she pulled him into a hug, not nearly as intense as the two before it.
“We brought you June’s.” Dad picked up the bags, searching for a proper table in the single room.
“That sounds amazing. I’m so hungry,” Aunt Mercy enthused.
“The cafeteria is downstairs. The staff can set us up at a table.” I offered Aunt Mercy my hand, helping her up.
“I left such a mess after breakfast. I should clean it up first.” Her brow furrowed at the leftover dishes.
“I’ll get it,” I said, eager to give Mom and Dad some time alone with her. “Go on downstairs. I’ll be right behind you.”
Mom took Aunt Mercy’s arm and Dad opened the door. I dawdled as I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and remade her bed. The room wasn’t big, little more than a bedroom and a bathroom, but she had lined the shelves with pictures and a stack of books balanced precariously on the small table beside the window.
I ran my fingers down the worn spines of the books, sliding my fingers across the table to another book, all by itself. “Mercedes’ Daily Log.” I picked up the slim book, skimming over the entries of how she spent her days.
Saturday: Gracie, your niece, stopped by for a visit. You walked around the garden for an hour talking.
