Page 16 of Delay of Game
“Bingo?” I raised an eyebrow. “Really? That sounds like fun.”
Aunt Mercy dropped her voice, eyes darting around the room. “It’s the best way to get information. Even without the wine.”
Some of the stress holding my chest tight released. “Yeah? Is that a fact?”
“I found out that Kitty is carrying on an affair with Mr. Angus Clevons from the third floor.” She waggled her eyebrows, and I bit back a laugh.
“An affair, huh? That’s what these people get up to? Maybe if they had wine at bingo, that wouldn’t happen.”
Aunt Mercy shrugged. “It’s not bad here. When they’re not watching.”
My body recoiled before I could stop myself. “Well, the staff are paid to keep an eye on everyone. Make sure they’re safe.”
I metered the words, emphasizing them as I willed the conversation to stay rooted in reality.
“Not the staff,” she hissed, leaning closer. “The men. They stand by my bed while I sleep. They’re so quiet.”
In the early stages of her disease, I’d taken Aunt Mercy’s claims of shadowy figures outside our home seriously. We didn’t live in a bad neighborhood, just an old one. While downtown Norwalk gentrified and grew, our residential neighborhood stayed mostly the same. Sure, there was poverty in the form of run-down houses and light graffiti, but not actual crime. No murders, no assaults, no theft, but enough drugs to make the threat of those crimes a possibility.
When Aunt Mercy had woken me from a dead sleep, claiming someone broke into her room, I called the cops. The second time, I installed security cameras. The third time, one police officer gently suggested that maybe the problem wasn’t an intruder, but Aunt Mercy.
I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine. “That sounds really scary. I’m sorry they kept you up.”
“They don’t keep me up, dear,” she smiled wanly as she picked her fork back up. “But they really shouldn’t stare.”
“They shouldn’t,” I agreed, a lump forming in my throat that I swallowed back down. I returned the smile. “I was cleaning your room the other day. We forgot your blanket: the quilt with the starbursts. I meant to bring it with me but forgot.”
“You should keep that one.” She waved her fork in the air. “Or better yet, give it to Linda. She always loved the colors on that quilt.”
She dropped her late sister’s name as if she’d seen her yesterday and she hadn’t died ten years ago. I bit my bottom lip. “That’s a really good idea. I’ll ask.”
We finished eating, and I walked Aunt Mercy back to her room before flagging down the nurse on her floor as I headed toward the exit.
“How’s she doing?” I asked with all the nervous energy of my kindergartener’s parents after the first week of school.
“She’s great!” The woman wearing pink scrubs and a stethoscope enthused. Brenda, by the name on her badge. “A real hoot. She fits right in.”
“And she’s happy?” I asked, tears springing to my eyes even though I’d asked dozens of times since I’d abandoned her here.
The nurse’s face fell. She took a step forward, resting a hand on my shoulder. “She’s had some good days and bad days, but you know how that goes. Overall, I’d say she’s thriving here. She’s eating well, taking part in group activities, and making new friends with the residents.”
“And you’d tell me if she was unhappy?” I asked, sucking in a breath. Of course, Aunt Mercy was happy here. She was miserable with me, stuck at home, without friends and transportation, with a grandniece who lashed out when she explained for the fiftieth time that the things she heard and saw weren’t true.
The nurse leveled her gaze at me. “We’ve had residents, in the past, who didn’t fit into our community. Trust me, we’d let you know. We’d help you find a place that was a better fit for her. But she’s wonderful. She’s going to be fine.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “You’ll be fine, too. You did the right thing.”
I nodded, swallowing a sob. “Please let her know I’ll be back on Thursday. And call if she needs anything. Anytime.”
“Will do, honey. You have a nice night.”
I fled the facility, only stopping once I was outside my car, sucking in cold air. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Gloria.
“Hey!” I answered, voice pitched too high on the precipice of hysteria.
“Gracie! I meant to call you earlier this week, but it’s been crazy. Probably not as crazy as it has been for you, but…”
“Kindergarten prep is no joke.”
