Lethal Literature. Kym Roberts
of the men sitting in the chairs next to us pulled himself to his feet, his joints creaking with the movement. “I’d be happy to get Isla for you. Just give me a minute and I’ll bring her back.” Shoulders straightened as far as nature would allow, the gentleman disappeared down the hallway to my right. The sound of his whistling a military hymn grew softer as he progressed.
“Are you related to Mrs. Sperry?” Joan asked.
I shook my head. “No, she’s just a good friend, but she was like a grandmother to me when I was growing up.”
“I would have sworn you were related. You have her eyes . . .” She scanned my face further before saying, “And her chin.”
The fact that Joan could see similarities in our features said something about the woman behind the desk. Even though I rarely ran across racial issues in Hazel Rock, my darker skin tone tended to differentiate me from the rest of Hazel Rock. Going outside my small hometown, however, was hit or miss with my biracial ethnicity. I glanced at the men sitting against the wall, and they nodded in agreement with Joan.
“You know what they say about husbands and wives gaining similar features as they age. Maybe the same can be said about grandma figures.” I looked at the men. “And grandfathers.”
The older of the two snorted. “God forbid anyone takes on Frank’s nose.”
I couldn’t help but look at the man sitting next to him. Frank’s nose was large and bulbous. Not a nose I would want to inherit, but it had a certain amount of character that looked good on Frank.
Frank laughed, loud and deep from his round belly. “Child, if you got my nose, I’d pay for the plastic surgery.”
I instantly loved Frank and winked at him. “I’d be honored to have half your nose.”
“If you had half his nose, you’d need collagen injections just so people could see your lips.”
Frank elbowed his partner, and Joan and I laughed.
“Those are two of my three amigos,” she said. “Hopefully, the third can find his way back to the lobby with Isla.”
Since things were going so well, I decided to break every HIPAA rule in the book and see what I could find out about Isla’s current condition. “How has Isla been doing this week? Is her memory still slipping from time to time?”
“This week has been particularly difficult for Isla. Tomorrow is her birthday, you know.” She looked at my hands like my shopping bag full of books wasn’t quite wrapped well enough for a present. And it wasn’t, because I’d had no idea when Isla’s birthday was. Another sign of my self-centeredness. I’d never thought to remember her birthday like she had mine. Even for my thirtieth birthday, she’d sent a birthday card and written a wonderful note about my mom despite having only known my mom a couple years before she died when I was a child.
“I can’t come by tomorrow, but you can be sure, there will be a delivery for her in the afternoon.”
Joan’s smile slipped from genuinely friendly to merely polite. She didn’t like me staying away on Isla’s birthday, but I’d had a date scheduled for months. There was no way I could cancel now.
“We’ll put on a show for Isla.” The two men sitting against the wall bumped elbows and winked at each other, a little snicker passing between them.
“I don’t think the Judge would approve of the type of show you two would want to put on,” Joan warned.
Frank rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Aw, the heck with old Sperry. The starch in his robes cut off the blood circulation to his brain years ago.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Judge Sperry had enough starch in his robes to keep his body standing up straight long after the man died.
Joan shook her head as if she were tolerating the antics of a bunch of three-year-olds. “You leave Isla and the Judge alone, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
“Sometimes I think he’s starched your shirt as well, Joan.”
I thought that comment might irritate Joan, but she smiled and laughed as Isla entered the foyer on the arm of the gray-haired gentleman who had gone to retrieve her.
At five foot two inches tall, Isla Sperry was a force to be reckoned with, or at least I’d always thought she was. Standing next to the third amigo, however, she seemed slightly lost and confused. Her smile wasn’t quite as bright as the last time I’d seen her. Her gray hair was pulled back in the ponytail she always wore but seemed messier than usual. Strands of hair hung loose at her neck, and the ponytail was off-center.
She’d never been a fancy woman, but she’d always been put together perfectly. Today, as she walked in leaning heavily on her cane, she was a completely different person. When she released the man’s arm, she immediately began fidgeting with her button-up blouse that was slightly wrinkled, while her khaki capris hitched up on one side. Instead of her everyday bright white sneakers, Isla was wearing slippers.
Maybe if I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have noticed the difference in her appearance, but today I was aware of the changes. And it hurt.
I smiled through the pain and walked over to hug the only grandmother I’d ever known. We may not have been blood, but she was still very dear to me.
“I can’t believe I warrant two visits in one day,” Isla said as she pulled back and gazed into my eyes.
“Two?” I asked.
Isla smiled. “Your father was here this morning.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“I think that’s the way Bobby Ray likes it.” Isla nodded to the man who walked her from her room before grabbing hold of my arm. “Would you like to walk in the gardens?”
“That sounds like the perfect place to show you the books I brought today.” Luckily for me, it was breezy enough that the heat wouldn’t bother me, because the odors from inside were beginning to wreak havoc with my mind. Cleaners mixing with a hint of urine had to be the worst kind of reminder of our mortality.
Isla and I made our way to the rear of the residence, passing by a room with a handful of white-haired people playing bingo. A few seemed to enjoy it, while the others appeared to be passing the time minute by minute, hour by hour.
Isla squeezed my arm. “It’s not as bad as you might think.” I tried to hide my skepticism, but she saw right through my blank expression. “Really, it’s not that bad. As you age, your sense of smell deteriorates. Your eyesight isn’t as sharp, and your mind . . . well, I think everyone knows what’s happening to mine.”
It was my turn to see right through Isla’s attempt to minimize her condition. There was fear in her eyes, and I wasn’t sure how anyone could accept the knowledge that everything was slipping away while their body remained healthy. “You have one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever known,” I said. Isla smiled up at me, and I changed the subject before she could argue. “What was Bobby Ray doing here?”
“Your father comes to see me a couple of times a week. He’s a good boy. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”
I tried to hide my shock and failed. I covered with bland conversation. “A couple times a week? I had no idea you guys were that close.”
“When you left town, your daddy needed family. I knew what it was like to lose a child. I didn’t want him to think he was alone. At first, he resisted all my attempts, but on one particularly hard day, he broke down in my arms.”
We walked through the garden to our normal spot under the large cottonwood tree at the back of the garden and sat down on the bench. I wasn’t sure what to think of this conversation. The raw emotion in her voice caused tears to well in my eyes. Was it real? Or was it a figment of Isla’s deteriorating mind? Accepting that I’d caused my daddy so much pain he’d turned to a virtual stranger for support