I take a sip, and then her words filter through the fog that is my brain today. “Road trip?”
She shrugs. “Charlie seems to think we’re heading to Harriston.”
“Hmm,” I muse. “I was actually thinking I’d drop in on Dolores.”
A wide grin spreads across Bess’s pretty face. “I do love me some Granny D. Jump in, I’m driving.”
Bess drives like her skeleton is made of lead, and every trip is a tryout to get on the NASCAR circuit. Still, I’d rather ride with her today than risk unleashing my distracted state on the world with two thousand pounds of steel.
We pull up to the retirement village—do not call it a nursing home in front of Dolores—and find her sitting at a table near the roses. She’s got a dainty teacup in front of her, and by the scowl she’s giving it, you’d think someone spit in it.
“Granny D!” Bess shouts when we’re still at least fifty feet away.
“Rainbow-less Brite!” Dolores shouts back. She’s been calling her that since Bess got rid of the bright highlights and clothes.
“What did that cup of tea do to you?” I ask when we join her at the table.
She looks up at me with her watery blue eyes. “It made the mistake of not being coffee.”
“I can smuggle you in coffee,” Bess whispers like she’s a dealer of illicit coffee beans.
“Elizabeth Miller, do I have to put you on another ban list?” one of the nurses asks when she overhears our conversation.
“Slow your roll, Nurse Ratched, I’m just kidding.” Bess winks at Dolores, which the nurse also sees.
“Don’t let Dolores tell you she can have coffee. The caffeine is bad for her blood pressure, and until it comes down, she’s restricted from all kinds of caffeine,” the nurse, whose name tag says Angel, says.
“I think she’s evil,” Dolores whispers to Bess.
She shrugs like the nurse being evil isn’t far-fetched. She looks over her shoulder to make sure that the nurse is gone. “You know, Lucifer was an angel before he was the devil.”
Dolores nods several times as if her nurse being the incarnation of evil makes sense to her. Heaven save us all from nurses who keep us from giving ourselves heart problems.
We sit and gab for a few more minutes. Their playful banter is calming. I half listen to all the gossip about the old folks’ love lives. Honestly, until she moved in here, I never realized how a nursing home—sorry,retirement village—was more like Club Med than a hospital environment. Of course, in this case,Medstands for medicine, not Mediterranean.
“Where did we lose you, dearie? Was it when I was recounting how Gertrude dislocated her hip when Stewart?—”
Bess slaps her hands over her ears and starts humming. “Dear God, I’ll be good, I swear. I won’t wear that Catholic schoolgirl outfit again, no matter how much Donovan begs, just please don’t make me listen to another story about how freaky these grannies are.”
Dolores laughs, and it sounds like she’s a young girl again. “Fine–” she holds up her hands— “you win. Besides, I don’t think that our little Wren here came over to listen to tales of geriatric whoopee.”
I shake my head. “Nope, no. Just don’t ever say any of those words together again. I’ll promise to God to hide Bess’s Catholic school girl outfit if I never have to hear that ever again.”
Bess slaps my arm. “You hooker, you’re supposed to give up something of your own, or it doesn’t count.”
I pretend to think about it, then shake my head. “I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to listen to Daddy. I’d have to ask him before I make a promise I can’t keep.”
Bess groans. “Now that we can look forward to unpacking that little nugget in therapy, maybe we should get down to it. I only have so much time to sit on a therapist’s couch, and I have daddy issues. Just not the same kind you do.”
I wink at her, and then my face falls. The levity of the moment vanishes, and all there is in front of me is this gnawing anxiety.What if it’s me? What if I’m not enough? What if I’ll never be enough? Will Griffin leave too?
Dolores already knows about my history with Liam, of course, since she was my saving grace when I had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. She also knows about his recent relapse and stay in rehab. What she didn’t hear from me, she got from Griffin, since he comes to visit her at least once a week.
She reaches out and pats my hand with her fragile one. “Could you do me a favor, dearie?”
“Of course,” I answer automatically.
Dolores smiles, and I know I’ve fallen prey to one of her schemes. Like the time she told me that the guest cottage Irented from her needed to be fumigated, so I should go stay with Griffin. She knew from almost the beginning that he would be the center of my universe. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to trust her one more time.
