I watched that little screen until the Lyft app pinged me, but Lee didn’t text again.
Music rang in my head as I rode home in the back of a classic Lincoln. New lyrics pushed around between the notes, something aboutcotton candy summersandpennies on the tracks. My manager, before I fired her for suggesting the accident could be “spun” into publicity, had insisted I should never write songs with a nod to my age. I needed to seem forever young and relevant. But this wisp of a song had childhood memories woven into it. Folky rock, which was half of what I played these days. Maybe I would never let those lines out for an audience. But as the dark streets rolled by, visions of tall trees and water in the creek, of standing on my pedals and pumping my bike that last half block up the hill to where I could see the football team practicing, captained by blond god Dexter, floated in my mind.
And when I got home, I scribbled a hundred images and fragments in my notebook. Writing lifted me high, like floodwater when a logjam had cleared. This song wasn’t about Lee. I wasn’t sure why his text inspired it. But eventually I realized this music was about hope and potential, about the world opening up bigger than it had been.
I went to bed smiling and slept the night through.
Lee wasn’t around when I arrived at Wellhaven the next morning. Some kind of paperwork screwup he had to unravel, according to Kashira, who had me playing checkers with Tom first thing.
“You’re not trying.” Tom set his hand over mine as I began a move. “I’ve taught you better’n that and you’re not stupid.”
“Sorry.” I slid the piece back, realizing yeah, I’d set myself up to be clobbered. “Have you ever been in love and then screwed it up?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You know anyone who hasn’t? Well, I guess some people aren’t lucky enough to ever meet the right person.” Sitting back, he turned one of my captured pieces around in his fingers. “In my case, Mindy was smart enough for the both of us. When I messed up, she let me know about it.”
“Sounds like you were lucky.”
“Hell, yeah. Thirty-seven years of lucky.” He turned toward the door. “What’s going on out there?”
I could hear raised voices but couldn’t make out the words. “I’ll go check. I’m crap at checkers this morning anyway.”
“You do that. Tell me later.” Tom waved me off and began packing the game away.
When I reached the hallway, I could make out several male voices talking over each other. I headed for the lobby, passing a couple of residents also drawn toward the commotion.
“That’s not what you promised us.” A thin elderly man with a nearly bald head and bushy beard clutched a walker. His shoulders seemed to have a permanent hunch, but he had hischin up, facing a middle-aged guy in a suit. “We spent months looking for a place that could meet both our needs. Why would we agree to being in separate rooms?”
The suit guy looked down his nose. “I believe the contract said,If available.” Lee, standing beside him, pursed his mouth like he’d bitten a lemon.
“And I was told a roomwasavailable for us.”
“Listen, Owen—”
“Mr. Frasier to you,” the old guy snapped.
“Mr. Frasier. We have beds available. One for you at the standard rate. One for your… friend, at the moderate care level. They unfortunately are not in the same room.” Suit guy managed to turn snootier, which I wouldn’t have imagined possible. “If you wish to decline them and pay the contract penalty, I am sure we can fill the spaces immediately.”
“Meaning that penalty’s just a money grab.” Frasier closed his eyes for a moment. “No, we’re not going to decline them. We have this whole process in motion. But I want your assurance that you will try, first chance you get, to shuffle things around so wedoshare a room.”
“I’m sure we can manage that,” Lee began, but suit guy held up a hand.
“We will make every effort to accommodate you, within the regulations and without inconveniencing our current residents, of course.”
Frasier cocked his head. “You want to unpack that?”
“I’m certain our facility director emailed you the complete handbook, but I will do so again. The rules are clearly laid out.”Suit guy put on a very fake smile. “Welcome to Wellhaven, Mr. Frasier. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” He didn’t hold out his hand, and from the disgust on Frasier’s face, I’m not sure if he would have taken it or spit in it. Suit guy gestured vaguely at Lee and the woman I saw half-hidden behind him. “Lee, Phoebe, make our new resident at home, please.” He turned and headed down the hall toward the front door.
Lee ran a hand over his unruly hair. “Mr. Frasier, I’m so sorry about Mr. Zhukov. I’m sure we can find a room to accommodate you and your partner. It’ll take a little bit of time to decide how to shuffle things around, though.”
“Thank you.” Frasier stared down the hallway after Zhukov. “Do you have any clue what rule he was going on about?”
With a glance at the gathering audience, Lee said, “Maybe we should go to my office.”
Frasier shook his head. “I like things out in the open”
“Ah. Well, I bet he’s thinking about the rule against sex on the premises except between married couples.” Lee shrugged, seeming uncomfortable. “I’d bet he’s imagining gay orgies if we let you and your partner share a room.”
“Seriously?” Frasier’s bark of a laugh startled me. “That’s a rule? Almost everyone in here is single, I bet. They expect everyone to be celibate till they die?”
