Page 89 of Delay of Game
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let him know I made it back home. Have a good night.”
Ethan pulled away once I opened the door. I set my purse down and wandered into the living room, throwing myself on the couch before I pulled out my phone.
I’m exhausted. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t say goodbye.
I stared at the screen, willing a response.
ROB
Had I known, I wouldn’t have forced Mila into bed early just to escape.
Three dots bounced on the screen, disappeared, and then came back again. Gone. Back again.
ROB
Goodnight, Astrid
“Gracie Evans, how are you this weekend?” Brenda greeted me as I walked into the memory care facility.
“Good. How’s yours? Quiet, I hope.” I set a box of donuts on the counter and signed my name into the visitor’s log.
“Very quiet. Half the residents took a day trip to the mall, and the rest are relaxing. Ms. Mercy was in the lounge the last time I saw her. Did you bring breakfast?”
“A couple of pastries for us and donuts for the the staff.”
“Ms. Mercy’s visitors certainly spoil the staff, don’t they?” Brenda said, lifting the lid and peeking inside. “Boston Cream, my favorite.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little confused.
Aunt Mercy’s condition continued to deteriorate in the evenings. After a handful of contentious visits after school, leaving both her and I upset, I decided with the staff to only come in the mornings or early afternoon. School day visits were out, but I visited every weekend. And I’d only brought breakfast a handful of times, but maybe the other resident’s visitors didn’t bring the staff anything at all.
“Enjoy your visit!” Brenda called, mouth full of donut, as I waved goodbye and made my way into the building.
The maze of hallways had become as familiar as the layout to the elementary school over the past month. I darted around a man and his aide, shuffling down the hallway, and waved hello to the cafeteria workers on my way to the lounge.
Aunt Mercy sat at a table with another resident, tittering quietly to each other while a handful of residents watched the TV. I stood at the entrance to the lounge as Aunt Mercy inclined her head toward her friend and then tipped her head back, setting her hand on her friend’s arm as she laughed. Tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d chatted like that. Not as caregiver and caretaker. Or niece and aunt. But friends.
I brushed the tears away with the back of my hand and forced a smile onto my face. “Aunt Mercy, good morning!”
She startled at the intrusion, confusion fogging her face before her eyes focused on me. “Gracie, darling, how are you this morning?”
“Good. I hope you haven’t eaten because I brought breakfast.” I set the pastries on the edge of the table and leaned down for a hug. Aunt Mercy gripped me tight, kissing my cheek and giving me a squeeze before letting go.
“I’m always hungry for sweets, you know that. Sit, sit.” She patted the empty seat beside her. “Have I introduced you to Dot?”
“No, nice to meet you, Dot.” I held out a hand.
Dot’s glassy eyes struggled to focus on mine, but she held her hand out. “You look just like my Katie.”
“This is my niece, Gracie!” Aunt Mercy shouted. She lowered her voice and leaned to whisper in my ear. “She’s a bit deaf and a little forgetful. You’ll have to forgive her.”
“Not a problem,” I said, biting my bottom lip. “Good thing I brought plenty of pastries. Do you like croissants, Dot?”
Dot nodded, but let the TV draw her attention away from us.
“I heard there was a trip to the mall today. You didn’t want to go?” I asked.
“This morning, the nurse mentioned you’d be by, and I thought it’d be nice to sleep in a little.” Aunt Mercy fluttered her hand above the selection of pastries, drawing circles in the air over her favorites before zeroing in on a cinnamon bun.
