“Good to know.” Owen lowered himself to a seat on the unused bed and winked at me. “So it sounds like we’re all Friends of Dorothy here. If the media’s right about you, Griffin.”
“For once.” I set the bag I’d carried in the corner of the room and opened it. “Would you like a couple of books out on the nightstand?”
“You’re going to wait on me?” Owen grinned. “Harvey’s really never gonna believe this. Sure, yeah, if you see some PD James, I’ll take those.”
Lee asked, “Can you help Owen get unpacked, Griff? I need to go look at room assignments and see what we can do.” He gave Owen a more serious look. “I didn’t know till today you and Harvey were together. That paperwork didn’t hit my desk, since my job’s medical care, not housing. Problem is, he’s a higher care level than you are. Those rooms are mostly on the ground floor where we have oxygen and lifts. If we move you down with him, we lose a second-tier bed someone else might need.”
“Then move him up here with me.”
“I’ll do my best, but it’ll depend on his care needs. I hadn’t looked at his file in detail yet, since he’s not coming till Monday, but I will now.”
“Thanks.” Owen slumped. “At least we’re in the same building. It’s a start.”
As Lee headed off, I set a couple of the detective novels on the stand beside Owen’s bed. “Were you rooming together before? Why’d you switch nursing homes?”
Owen shook his head. “I’ve been living in our house. Harvey had a stroke five years back, and he had to go into care. I’m not strong enough to lift him and Medicaid would pay for a nursinghome but not the level of in-home care he needed to stay with me.”
“That’s stupid,” I said. “Surely in-home care would save taxpayer dollars.”
“Government logic. Anyhow, I’ve been going in to see him every day, but my arthritis is getting worse and this year, I decided I’d better give up my driver’s license. Then moving into a nursing home together made sense. But his didn’t have a vacancy. Plus.” He lowered his voice and leaned my way. “Don’t tell anyone till Harvey’s safely here, but they’ve been really going downhill. I’m glad to get him out of there.”
“I hope Wellhaven works out. I know Lee will do his best.” I opened the closet and saw a divider hung up in the middle. The full side held shirts and pants, the other was empty. “Shall I hang some clothes for you?”
“Griffen Marsh, valet,” he intoned in a theatrical voice. Then, more normally, “Sure, thanks. Blue suitcase.”
Owen had good taste in shirts if you leaned toward bright colors and geometric patterns. I had a few draped on hangers before a white-haired man shuffled into the room clutching a cane. He looked like a classic picture of Albert Einstein on a bad hair day, and wore a white short-sleeved shirt, camo khakis, and loafers. He paused in the doorway staring at us. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Didn’t they tell you about me?” Owen asked. “I’m your new roommate. Temporarily.”
“Oh. I hoped that when Nate died, I’d have the room to myself.”
Owen and I exchanged glances. “Sorry?” Owen offered.
Jonas waved him off. “I’m sure you didn’t choose to be here. No one chooses to room with me, but they want to make all the money they can, cramming us in here. It’s that socialism, you know. They have us living in these rat colonies, instead of with our families like old folk used to back in the day. America’s going to hell.” He made his way over to the chair on his side of the room, sat gingerly, and picked up a remote. One click and the TV began playing Fox News. At high volume.
“Can you turn that down a bit?” Owen asked. “Me and Griffin are having a conversation.”
“I’m losing my hearing.” Jonas gestured at a hearing aid in one ear. “Can’t hear it if it’s any lower. You can go somewhere else quieter. I can’t hear my shows somewhere else.”
I hung up the shirts I’d been holding and turned to Owen. “Shall I show you the lounge and the garden?”
“Yes, please.” He pushed to his feet and rolled his walker my way. “I could use a little fresh air.”
As we stepped out into the corridor, I heard the talking head on the TV ranting about how liberals wanted to teach kindergarten kids about sex. I shut the door more firmly than was perhaps needed.
“Fuck,” Owen muttered.
“But not in kindergarten,” I said piously, hands folded.
“I think I like you. Even if your music’s mediocre.”
“High praise. Come on.” I led the way onto the elevator.
“Your Lee had better come through with a room change,” Owen muttered.
“What do you mean, my Lee?”
“If you’re not together, you have a hell of a crush. I saw you watching him in that mirror.”
