Louise wasn’t having it. She scowled at her daughter.
Okay, so much for that. Zona shut her mouth and concentrated on serving breakfast.
“That was delicious,” Louise told her after she’d finished. “But then you always were an excellent cook.”
“It’s hard to mess up an omelet,” said Zona, and took the last bite of hers.
Thanks to Zona stocking up, they’d had an onion in the fridge as well as green bell peppers and tomatoes. Zona would have loved to add some fresh thyme, but she’d had to part with her garden when she’d parted with her house. Someone else wasnow enjoying her herbs and would be harvesting her tomatoes and zucchini. At least she had access to Meyer lemons and oranges from Louise’s tree when they were in season. Maybe someday she’d have a house again, with fruit trees in the backyard.
When she was ninety. She frowned at her empty plate and picked it up, along with Louise’s, taking them to the dishwasher. “Let’s see if we can get you all dressed and gorgeous.”
“With my new fashion statement,” Louise said sourly.
Yep, they were both having fun.
Helping her mother with a sponge bath felt awkward, but they managed.
“I guess if I want to wash my hair I’ll be stuck using the kitchen sink,” Louise said with a sigh.
“Or dry shampoo?”
“Yuck.”
“It won’t be long before you can shower,” Zona said, hoping to encourage her. The idea of getting her in and out of the shower and keeping her from falling once the permanent cast was on made her nervous. “I’m ordering a shower chair today,” she added. A visual sign that this phase of Louise’s misery would soon come to an end.
“Ugh. Those are for old people,” Louise muttered.
“And for people who’ve broken a leg,” said Zona.
Once Louise was dressed, Zona settled her on the couch with a second cup of coffee and the TV remote and slipped off to the kitchen to settle at the table with a second coffee of her own and see about getting some help. It appeared that, indeed, Louise would be able to afford someone to come in and hang out with her during the day, assist her with showers and make sure she didn’t starve. Things were looking up.
Until Zona’s first three calls to agencies that provided such help proved fruitless. It seemed everyone in Southern California needed in-home care.
After she’d refilled Louise’s coffee cup a third time and failed on her fourth attempt to find someone, she called Gracie to vent.
“Poor Louise,” said Gracie.
“Poor both of us,” Zona amended. “I don’t think my mom’s cut out to be an invalid and I’m sure I’m not cut out to be a nurse.”
“I might know somebody,” Gracie said thoughtfully. “My Aunt Gilda does that kind of thing. She quit the agency she was working for a couple of months back, but maybe she’d be willing to help you guys. She’s a nurse, but she got burned out on hospital work during COVID.”
“Why’d she quit the agency?” Zona asked.
“She claimed they were sending her to take care of creepy old guys who kept hitting on her.”
“Really?”
“Did I mention that Aunt Gilda is a legend in her own mind?”
“So, we could have a legend helping us out?”
“That you could.”
“Give me her number.”
Five minutes later Zona had left a message on Aunt Gilda’s phone and was working on making lunch.
Louise claimed she wasn’t hungry, so maybe she ate the grilled Gouda cheese and apple sandwich Zona made her just to be polite. After that it was another trip to the bathroom.
