Page 48 of Through You
Sunday is visitors’ day with a very special someone in my life. I get off the bus in front of a large seniors’ residence, and when I enter, the nurse on duty greets me with a smile and takes me to the garden. The facilities of this exclusive long-term care residence are impeccably clean, the staff is very well trained and friendly, the rooms are spacious, and the overall look is more luxury hotel than anything else. It is exactly what it ought to be: a nursing facility for seniors who have more money than they could hope to spend during the time they have left. In the garden that has become familiar to me over the past two years, I walk among the remaining beautiful flowers already at the end of their blooming cycle. Fall is on its way.
I can see him in the near distance, sitting on a bench next to a tall leafy tree facing the lake. Of their own accord, my lips curve into a smile as I near the spot where he’s sitting.
Anthony Hidalgo is a sturdy and very tall man with brown eyes of a shade that’s similar to that of his grandsons Ares and Artemis. The wrinkles on his face are a road map of the hard labor he invested earlier in life to get where he is now. Nevertheless, he is in great shape despite being almost eighty years old. He moved into this residence after his children came to an unanimous decision. Grandfather smiles back at me.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
“And miss our wonderful Sunday date?” I snort. “Never.”
Apolo was pretty much raised by his grandfather, and I’m happy Apolo has benefitted from this influence. Mr. Anthony takes a glass filled with lemonade from the table next to him and offers it to me.
“Very sweet, just how you like it.”
My heart softens with affection. The way his face lights up when sees me every Sunday when I visit lets me know that he’s lonely in this place, which, luxurious as it may be, is not home.
Perhaps money isn’t everything.
I take a sip of the lemonade and sit on the bench next to him.
“Hmm, it’s delicious.”
“Do you want a snack? I can order your favorites.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “I’m good. How are you?”
“I’ve got this headache that comes and goes, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”
That worries me.
“Have you mentioned it to your doctor?”
He shakes his head. “It’ll be fine. How are the boys? Apolo doesn’t talk much about them.”
Apolo visits him on Saturdays, and I visit him on Sundays.
This way he has company two days in the week.
“They’re fine,” I respond, even though I’m sure this answer won’t be enough.
“Apolo told me that Artemis has been bothering you since he came home.”
Damn Apolo. He can’t keep his mouth shut.
“It’ll be fine.” I regurgitate his previous answer. “I, more than anyone, am capable of handling the situation.”
Grandfather lets out a sigh and looks at the beautiful lake in front of us, filled with dark-blue water shimmering with the sunlight.
“And what about Ares?”
Though most people will deny this, grandparents, or even parents, often have a favorite. And while Apolo was practically raised by his grandfather, Mr. Anthony has always had a soft spot for Ares. They both have strong characters, and are very similar.
Of course, this has complicated their relationship, turning it into a game of emotional tug-of-war from time to time.
“He’s fine. I think he’s finally ready to settle down,” I reply, thinking of Raquel.
Grandfather sighs again, and the sadness is evident in his voice. “Has he asked about me?”
I would love to lie and say yes. “You know what he’s like.”
