The Good Life (6 page)

Alarmed, Ann stood and put her arms out in front of her, to give herself time to think, to stop him from moving. She called for Selma, who appeared from the kitchen just as Sam, who was more off the couch than on, slid to the floor and covered his face with his hands. “Leave me alone!” he shouted in a raspy, warbled voice.

“What is it, Dad?” asked Ann, frozen in place.

“They’re out there again,” said Sam, pointing at the large living room window. “They’ve followed me here!”

Ann glanced at the window and saw nothing but clear glass, the grass, and the back of her house. “Who, Dad,” she asked urgently, “who do you see?”

Selma stepped forward and touched Sam’s arm. “I’ve got some cookies,” she said gently. “Come into the kitchen with me.”

“What about them?” asked Sam, breathing hard and again pointing at the window.

“They won’t bother us,” said Selma. “They don’t like cookies.” Sam looked at Selma, back at the window, and then back at her. Her smile ran around her face in a circle, from the edge of her mouth through the tiny laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and back down to her to soft brown lips. “Let’s get something to eat,” she said. Sam slowly shifted to his hands and knees and then used the couch, with Selma holding on to his free elbow, to lift himself off the floor. Ann watched as he followed Selma into the kitchen. She helped him sit at the table before reaching into the end cupboard and pulling out a red tin. Ann watched her take two oatmeal cookies from the tin, put them on a paper napkin, and calmly set them down in front of Sam. The incident was over, but Ann’s chest still thundered. Moments later, Eileen walked through the front door carrying a duffel bag. Ann followed her mother into their bedroom, tears and terror in her eyes, and told her what she just witnessed.

“Honey, honey,” said Eileen, rubbing Ann’s back. “It’s okay. Well, I mean, it’s not okay. He’s not okay. But we can handle this.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” said Ann, holding on to her mother. “I don’t know how this happened. Why it happened.”

Eileen pulled a tissue from the pocket of her dress and handed it to her daughter, who accepted it, took a step backward, and blew her nose. “What happened out there, what you just saw, is what the doctor calls hallucinations. Your father sees things—people mostly—that aren’t there. He imagines things. Remember I told you about the kitchen staff at the Lutheran church? These flashes of fantasy are, unfortunately, happening more frequently,” said Eileen, “but thankfully they don’t last terribly long. And I’m getting better at distracting him. It sounds like Selma did the same thing.”

“Yes,” said Ann. “She seemed to know exactly what she was doing. But how can we change this, Mom? What did the doctor say about that?”

“The doctor thinks this is partially the disease, and partially a side effect of his medication.”

“Can we change the medication?”

“We have fiddled with it, here and there,” said Eileen, lifting her duffel from the carpet to the bed. “But, in the end, the good outweighs the bad.”

“What is the good?”

“He can move. The tremors in his hands and feet are under control. The rigidity that struck his entire left side has softened.”

“Good God,” said Ann, putting her hand to her chest. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Well, yes,” said Eileen, unzipping her bag. “I would imagine it’s terrifying.”

“And is that why he drools?” asked Ann. “The medication?”

“He drools because he’s lost the use of some of his facial muscles,” said Eileen, taking three sweaters out of her bag. “Plus, he can have a hard time swallowing. I always carry a handkerchief with me.”

“Well,” said Ann, taking another step backward, “you must be hungry. Would you like some soup?”

“I’m just going to unpack this duffel and I’ll be ready,” said Eileen, putting several cotton turtlenecks into an empty bureau drawer. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Oh, I can’t stay,” Ann lied. “I’ve got a few things to take care of at the house.”

“Will we see you for dinner?”

“Of course,” said Ann, backing out of the bedroom. “I’ll come and get you.”

“Come back anytime,” said Eileen. “We’re here all afternoon.”

“Okay,” said Ann, over her shoulder. She flew out the front door and jogged up the path to her house. In her own kitchen, Ann locked the door behind her, then raced to the sink to wash her hands. She dried them on a fresh towel from her linen drawer and made a mental note to change her kitchen hand towels every day. She scooped two spoons of coffee into her cappuccino machine and grabbed some skim milk from the refrigerator. Her father was in another world. She steamed the milk for her coffee, wondering how her seventy-two-year-old mother had been taking care of someone in that condition. Thank God for Selma. She seemed more than capable. Ann took her drink to the island and pulled the stool out from underneath. She sat there, staring out the back window at the guesthouse, glad for the seventy yards between her parents and herself.

After a few sips from her mug, Ann called Mike. When she got his voice mail, she hung up and called his secretary. If anyone could find Mike, it was Peggy. At fifty-five, Peggy had more energy than anyone in the office, Mike included. And she was unusually loyal to Mike for a woman not interested in seducing him. Mike depended on her for booking his travel, his meetings, and his manicures, putting the right people through on his phone, finding the perfect gift for Ann, ensuring his long days didn’t get any longer, and, on some days, making sure he ate lunch. Plus, she knew how to keep her mouth shut. And for this he paid her three times the salary of the other Dilloway executive assistants. “Yes, Mrs. Barons,” said Peggy. “And how are you today?”

“Fine, Peggy. Do you know where he is?”

“In a meeting,” she said. “It’s scheduled to run another hour. My guess is it will go over.” Ann sighed. “I can text him, Mrs. Barons.” Mike, Ann knew, would not consider her father’s condition an emergency, so she asked Peggy to tell Mike to call her as soon as he could.

Next, Ann called Sally, who answered the phone on the third ring. “Sally, it’s me.”

“Hello, darling,” said Sally. “Where have you been? We missed you at the gym this morning.”

“I exercised here,” said Ann. “My parents arrived today.”

“Yes, yes, of course they did,” said Sally. “And how is everyone?”

“Terrible,” said Ann. “My father is completely out of it. I don’t know how in the world he got this way. Last Christmas, he seemed fine.”

“What do you mean by ‘out of it’?” asked Sally.

“He’s gone, Sally, mentally and physically,” said Ann, massaging her forehead. “He has no idea what’s going on. He drools constantly. Sally, he didn’t know me when he saw me.”

“Oh God,” said Sally. “You poor thing. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Ann. “I had no idea what I was getting into. My mother didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Do you need a cappuccino?” asked Sally.

“I just had one,” said Ann.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Ann thought about Sally’s offer. On the one hand, she would love Sally to keep her company. They could talk about Ann’s problem and Sally would provide enough sympathy to quell—temporarily at least—Ann’s anxiety. On the other hand, Sally wasn’t completely trustworthy. If Ann wanted her innermost feelings spread all over town, she could do it herself. Still, Sally was always so affirming. Ann was just about to invite her when she heard her mother tapping on the back door. “I’ll have to call you back,” she said, hanging up the phone. Ann walked to the door and opened it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” said Eileen, crossed arms holding her thick wool cardigan sweater in place. “We’re fine. Your father fell asleep on the couch, so I thought I’d sneak over here and have a chat with you. You looked like you were in shock, honey.”

“Well, yes,” said Ann, closing the door behind her mother and pulling a chair out from underneath the kitchen table so she could sit.

“He’s not as bad as he appears,” said Eileen, removing her sweater and then tucking the hem of her floral traveling dress underneath her before she sat.

“That’s good,” said Ann, “because he appears to be pretty bad.”

“Well, you’re right,” said Eileen, cradling her hands in her lap. “He doesn’t think like you and I think. He forgets what he’s doing in the middle of a task. He loses everything, mostly because he puts things down in illogical places and then can’t find them later. He spends some days walking around the house in circles, looking for this or that. But he’s docile and, except for his hallucinations, relatively content.”

“Tell me more about his hallucinations,” said Ann.

“Well,” said Eileen, “as I said, most of the time they’re people, somewhat troll-like in nature from what he has told me. He thinks they’re spying on him. It’s paranoia gone haywire, really. The doctor recently altered his medication, though, so things should change for the better.”

“I hope so,” said Ann, glancing out the window behind her mother.

“I’d love some tea,” said Eileen. “Selma and I looked in the cupboards, but we didn’t see any.”

“I’ll have her pick some up at the store.”

“That sounds good,” said Eileen. “Do you have any tea here?”

“Of course I do,” said Ann.

“I’d love a cup.”

“Now?”

“Lovely,” said Eileen. “If you have the time. I know you have things to take care of this afternoon.”

Ann retucked her hair behind her ears. “I’ve got time for a cup of tea,” she said. She lifted herself out of the chair and walked slowly to the stove for the teakettle. She filled it with water, ignited the gas burner, and then set the kettle back down to boil. “So,” she asked, returning to the table, “where does he see these people?”

“Outside, mostly,” said Eileen. “They sit in trees or in parked cars. Sometimes they wave or take notes.”

“Good God,” said Ann, closing her eyes.

Eileen reached across the space between them and touched Ann’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes his hallucinations are good. Sometimes he sees children.”

“You should have
told
me,” said Ann earnestly.

Eileen’s smile was tired. “He’ll be okay,” she said. “With all of us looking after him, he’ll be okay.”

Ann looked into her mother’s blue eyes. She wanted to see behind them, to know what enabled her to care for such a sick man. What would Ann do if Mike got sick? What would he do if she got sick? The water boiled. Ann removed the kettle from the burner and extinguished the flame. Then she walked into the dining room to retrieve the china teapot she kept in one of the corner cupboards. She returned to the kitchen and rinsed out the dust with hot soapy water. No leaks. She poured in the water from the kettle, dropped in two tea bags, and then watched the liquid turn brown. Eileen studied her from the table. “Do you still drink tea?” she asked her daughter.

“No,” said Ann. “I drink coffee.”

“You used to drink it. Remember?” said Eileen. “You and I had it every afternoon, in the wintertime, when we were preparing dinner.”

“Tea and cookies,” said Ann, bringing the pot to the table. “I’d forgotten.” Ann went back to the china cupboard in the dining room for two cups and saucers. She rinsed them in the sink and then brought them to the table. She sat and again looked out the window at the guesthouse.

“You changed the color of the walls in here,” said Eileen, breaking the silence.

Ann looked back at her mother. “That’s right,” said Ann, pouring out the tea. “You haven’t seen the house since it was just done, have you? We’ve made a lot of changes.”

“Let’s enjoy our tea,” said Eileen, “and then I’d love a tour.”

 

Ann gave her mother a tour that included almost everything: the home gym, spa, and game room on the lower level; the living room and dining room, Mike’s study, and the family room on the main level; and the master bedroom suite, guest bedrooms, and two of the other four bathrooms on the second story. She avoided Lauren’s and Nate’s rooms and their bathrooms because she knew what condition they were in. As a child, Ann had been expected to keep her room tidy. “Well,” said Eileen, as they walked back into the kitchen from the hallway. “You certainly do have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” said Ann. “We’re proud of it.”

“Yes,” said Eileen. “I can see that.”

“I hope you’ll be comfortable in the guesthouse,” said Ann.

“How could we not be comfortable?”

“It’s a bit small,” said Ann, “for a prolonged stay. It’s meant to be a weekend retreat.”

“It’s perfect,” said Eileen. “Your father and I don’t require much.”

Ann’s cell phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, rang Mike’s tune. “I’ve got to get this,” she said, already reaching for it.

“Thanks for the tea and the tour,” said Eileen, grabbing her sweater from the chair before slipping out the back door. “We’ll talk more later.”

Mike had just five minutes for Ann. He was in a financial status meeting, his third that day. Knowing she shouldn’t burden him, but unable to stop herself, Ann poured out her woes, fears, and concerns in sixty seconds. Mike listened to his wife while he thought about what the latest numbers would do to their annual target. When she was done, he assured her everything would be okay. He had to get back to the meeting, but he would come home after that, certainly in time for dinner. He suggested she call Nate and Lauren to ensure their presence at the table. It would be their first night as an extended family.

 

Nate answered his cell phone, even though he knew it was his mother. He was sitting at Burger King with his best friend, Josh Petersen, having a late lunch in lieu of physics class. He balked when she told him to be home early for dinner; he had already made plans to go to the library with his girlfriend, Jenny Garr, to watch her study. Ann told him to be home by six o’clock, if he knew what was good for him. Nate told his mother she had no idea what was and what wasn’t good for him, but he would consider her request. After he hung up, he called Jenny. She told him under no circumstances should he go to the library. She could study better without him, and grandparents, she said, were important. After he hung up the phone, Nate took a sip of his chocolate shake and announced that women were sentimental idiots.