44
EVERYTHING MUST GO
While waiting for the doctors to tend to Lily,
Grace and Ray decided that Grace would drive Dominic and Jordan
back to Austin the next morning, Sunday, so he could stay with Lily
until the hospital released her.
Initially, Dominic and Jordan protested
that they couldn’t abandon their sister. But a night spent hanging
out on the uncomfortable orange bench seats of the hospital waiting
room convinced them that being cut out of the loop wasn’t such a
bad thing. Sibling devotion couldn’t overcome boredom, or
hunger.
“Can we stop for breakfast on the way
back?” Dominic asked as they were leaving. “Someplace with
pancakes?”
“Dominic wants to celebrate the fact
that Lily’s okay,” Jordan said, shooting Grace a wry
look.
“Yeah,” he said.
Declaring Lily okay was a bit of a
stretch. She had fractured an arm, dislocated her shoulder, and
suffered a concussion. Bad as it was, though, Grace couldn’t get
the picture of that ledge out of her mind. If Lily had been
standing a few feet to the right when she’d fallen, the outcome
would have been another tragedy for the West family.
“Pancakes it is,” she
agreed.
During the drive back, they stopped at
a roadside diner full of Sunday brunchers. After they ordered,
Grace’s cellphone started vibrating across the laminated
tabletop.
“Is it Dad?” Dominic
asked.
She checked. “It’s my brother
Sam.”
“You can talk to him here,” Jordan said
when Grace started to get up. “We’ll pretend not to
listen.”
Sam shouted into her ear as soon as she
picked up. “Happy birthday!”
She was stunned. “Oh my God—I
completely forgot. So much has happened—but I can tell you about it
when I get home. I’m on my way now.”
“You should tell me now, then. Rainbow
and I are on the way to Houston. I ran into her at Whole Foods. We
decided to make like the old days and road trip to see a show at
the Alley.”
“Oh, great.”
“I figured you had better things to do
on your big day than hang out with your brother.”
She tried hard to swallow her
disappointment that he wouldn’t be there when she got home. That no
one would. Instead, she gave an abbreviated recap of Lily’s
accident.
“Sounds like the weekend was eventful.”
He paused, then asked, “Anything else happen?”
His tone made his meaning perfectly
clear. She turned slightly away from her breakfast companions. “Not
what you’re obviously thinking.”
He sighed. “I wash my hands of you
then. You’re hopeless.”
“What about Dad?” she asked. “How did
it go? How is he?”
“He’s all settled, and he seemed fine.
Although it took me forever to get his furniture positioned the
right way.”
“I’ll go see him as soon as I get
back,” she said.
“Actually . . .” He hesitated, then
explained, “The director of the place requested that Dad not have
visitors for a week. Or phone calls.”
“What?”
“I know, it sounded weird to me too.
But she said Dad should have some time to adjust and get to know
people around him—and not just shut himself up and wait for his
family to visit.”
“But that’s crazy! Dad will wonder
where I am. Who’s going to look after him?”
“They are. That’s why he’s
there.”
Her heart was racing. “But without
visiting or calling, how do we know that they’re treating him well,
or that he has what he needs?”
“Grace—”
“What if he’s lonely, and miserable,
and at loose ends?”
The silence that crackled over the line
was filled with pity. For her. “I think you need the week to
adjust, too,” he said.
She bristled. “That’s ridiculous. I’m
fine. I just don’t trust them.”
“You’re going to have to. Just give it
a week.”
A week! A week seemed like an eternity
to her all of a sudden.
“Oh, and Grace?”
“Hm . . .” she said,
distracted.
“Have a happy birthday. We’ll do it up
big when I get to Austin!”
When she hung up, she took a gulp of
coffee. Her hand was shaking over what Sam had told her about her
dad. She didn’t care what Sam said—the one-week policy stank. What
if her dad thought she had abandoned him? Sure, he would have been
informed of the policy, but sometimes he forgot things right after
he heard them.
“When we get home, should I come over
and get Iago?” Dominic asked.
She nodded. She had forgotten about
Iago. Now he would be gone, too. A tear slipped down her
cheek.
Dominic and Jordan focused their eyes
on their plates but darted wary surreptitious glances in her
direction. “Is everything okay?” Dominic asked.
“Today’s my birthday,” she
explained.
Their heads lifted. “Happy birthday!”
they said in unison.
For some reason, their rote
exclamations made her feel even more depressed.
“How old are you?” Dominic
asked.
“Thirty-one.”
“God,” Jordan said. “No wonder you’re
crying.”
After she parked the car in the drive
in Austin, Grace expected the kids to unload their stuff and troop
back over to their house, but Dominic followed her to her
door.
“Is it okay if I go ahead and take Iago
home with me now?” he asked.
“Sure,” Grace said, trying to be
cheerful about giving up her father’s dog.
When she opened the door to her
father’s house, Iago was right there. He certainly looked ready to
go. He was doing the front-paw hop he performed whenever he saw
Dominic. She petted him, trying not to mind the hole in the living
room where Lou’s television had been. Or the absence of his
favorite armchair. Now there was only the martyr’s chair, but with
no chess set on the table next to it. For some reason, the absence
of that game got to her more than anything. The quiet house felt
drained of life, as if its heart had been torn from
it.
Or maybe that was just how she felt
herself.
As Dominic hurried to the kitchen to
collect Iago’s bowls, food, leash, and flea meds, she couldn’t help
remembering the other dogs that had lived in the house. Her father
had never been without a canine friend for long. When she was
growing up, there had been Desdemona, and at the end of Des’s life,
a Chihuahua mix named Cassio had come on board. And then
Iago.
She had asked her father once why there
had never been an Othello. “I would never give a dog the lead,”
he’d explained. “There would be no living with him.”
Dominic looked reluctant to leave.
“You’re not going to start crying after I take him, are
you?”
She smiled. “No.”
“ ’Cause I could leave him here a few
days, I guess . . .”
She shook her head. “Look at him—he’s
raring to go.” She smiled. “Besides, I still have
Heathcliff.”
His expression was doubtful, but he led
Iago out anyway.
Speaking of Heathcliff . . . She went
upstairs to check on him. She didn’t worry that he had been
traumatized by the move, because he generally confined himself to
her bedroom and the Rigoletto’s office, and those rooms hadn’t been
touched by relocation madness yet. In the next few weeks, though,
they would have to be boxed up and emptied out, too. Everything must go. This was her job now: to make sure
that nothing was left.
In her bedroom, Heathcliff was lounging
on the bed in a patch of sun. He winked one eye open, saw her, and
then shut it again. Then he arched, stretched, and flipped over to
face a large box that was lying in the center of the
bed.
It was just a big white clothes box,
with an envelope taped to the top. She opened the envelope and took
out a card with a picture of George Eliot on it. She remembered it
from a set of famous author note cards she’d sent her father once
on his birthday.
Gracie,
It’s your
birthday, and I can think of nothing more precious to leave as a
gift to mark your thirty-one years. I know I am right in thinking
that it is best left in your safekeeping.
Love,
Dad
Dad
She pulled the lid off the box. Inside,
surrounded by tissue paper, was the old chess set. She picked up
one of the pieces and fell back on the mattress, laughing. His
treasure, her torment. But he was right—she would keep it with her
until the last breath left her body.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t loan
it out on occasion.
She hopped up and picked up the box.
Rules be damned. She didn’t care what anyone said, it was her
birthday and she wanted to see her father, just to spend a little
time with him and make sure he had everything he
needed.
On the way out to Live Oak Villa, she
stopped at a barbecue stand that had never been on her father’s
A-list, but which was still probably better than the institutional
food he was getting. Having the to-go bag sitting on the passenger
side seat lifted her spirits; barbecue was the most effective
aromatherapy in the world. She imagined her father’s face lighting
up when he saw it.
When she appeared at his door bearing
all her goodies, though, she discovered that he wasn’t in his
rooms. It was the right apartment, she was sure of it. The number
was the one they had written down as his address, and his furniture
was there. But no Lou.
As she prowled the carpeted corridors
in search of him, she half expected to be collared by the assisted
living police. The last place she looked was where she should have
started, given that it was going on six o’clock. The dining
room.
He was seated at a round table with two
ladies, both with perfectly set gray hair. A walker stood sentry
next to one of the ladies’ chairs. The other woman seemed to be
telling a story, and Lou was watching her intently, a smile on his
face. When Grace approached the table, he turned the same smile on
her. For a moment, there was no flash of recognition, no
connection. The gaze was impersonal, as if she were a nurse, or
someone coming to take his plate.
As if he didn’t really know
her.
She froze, pierced by a pain so sharp
she wanted to double over. Did he really not know her? Her own
father?
She took a deep breath, remembering a
time before, when he’d been in the hospital. It was just the
unexpected that caused the delayed recognition. She took the empty
chair next to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi, Dad.”
He took her hand. “It’s so good to see
you!” He turned to his two companions. “This is my daughter,
Grace.” He introduced her to the two women, Frances and Brenda, who
made a fuss over her. Brenda encouraged Grace to take her tapioca
cup. Grace declined politely.
It was as if she had issued a
challenge.
“Go ahead and take it,” Brenda said. “I
can always get another one.”
“Me, too.” Frances was already twisting
toward her walker, ready to hit the dessert buffet on Grace’s
behalf.
“No, really,” Grace said, trying to
stop her. “I’m not hungry.” She was holding out for barbecue,
hoping that she and her father could go back to his room and talk.
Maybe play a game of chess.
“Would you like a roll?” Frances asked
her.
“The asparagus casserole was good. I
have a little of that left.” Brenda pushed her plate toward Grace,
who laughed in frustration.
“No, thank you.”
“I know what she really wants,” Lou
said. “Birthday cake. It’s her birthday!”
The two ladies beamed in delight. “They
didn’t have cake tonight.”
“But we could sing,” Brenda said,
brightening even more.
“Oh, no,” Grace said, cringing. “That’s
not necess—”
But stopping those two ladies from
launching into “Happy Birthday” at that moment would have been like
trying to hold back the dawn. And once they started, the
surrounding tables got in on the act, and by the end, the whole
cafeteria was singing. Grace hunkered stiffly in her chair,
grinning, praying for it to be over. Unfortunately, when the song
ended and the room burst into applause, someone in the back started
the song all over again.
She should have just accepted the
tapioca. When round two was over, Grace was introduced to thirty
people whose names she knew she would never be able to remember
after tonight. Finally, they began to filter away and she turned to
her dad. “Do you want to go up to your apartment?”
“Why?” he asked.
“I’d like to get the
tour.”
“It’s nothing special,” he
said.
Brenda turned to her. “It’s Sunday
night! We’re having a movie tonight. You should stay for
it.”
“Oh—I don’t think I can.” She was still
half expecting the powers that be to come collar her for premature
visitation.
“Why not?” her father
asked.
“It’s Top Hat,
with Fred Astaire,” Frances said.
Lou lifted his brows. “There are people
here who could stand to take some style pointers from Fred
Astaire.”
The ladies laughed.
“We’re going to go to the rec room and
get good seats,” Frances said, getting up. “Should we save you one,
Lou?”
“Oh, yes, please. I’ll be right there,”
Lou said.
Grace shook her head in
frustration.
“Well, let’s go upstairs,” he told her.
“Not much to see, I’m warning you. Just the same old furniture. I
might have you help me move the couch, though. Sam swore I wanted
it in the wrong place, but I don’t like it where he put it. There’s
a glare from the morning sun.”
They took the elevator up. “I brought
you something,” she said when they got there. She showed him the
barbecue she’d left on the table, and the chess set.
He sniffed at the food. “But I just
ate.”
“I forgot that you’d probably be at
dinner.”
“You should take this home with you.
The chess game, too. I don’t know anyone here who
plays.”
“We could
play.”
“Tonight?” he asked, looking panicky.
“What about Top Hat?”
She took a breath. “Don’t worry, Dad.
You won’t miss the movie. I’m just going to put this food in your
fridge.”
“All right.”
He brought up the couch again. She
helped him shift some pieces around, during which time she wondered
if they should splurge and buy him a replacement for the
uncomfortable velvet couch.
Moving the furniture took all of five
minutes. Then he was heading for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Top Hat,” he
reminded her.
“Dad . . .”
His eyes widened. “What’s
wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She
gathered her purse, in a hurry to leave before she started to cry.
This was shaping up to be the weepiest birthday ever.
He looked at her anxiously. “There is,
I can tell. Did I do something wrong? Do you want me to eat dinner
again? I will, if it will make you happy.”
“No, Dad. Save it for tomorrow . . . or
whenever. It’s just . . .” Her throat closed up, making it hard to
gulp in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” he asked
again.
“It’s just so hard to have to leave you
here.”
His face pinched into a frown and he
came toward her, taking her hand. “Christopher
Columbus.”
She flicked a tear off her cheek.
“What?”
“Remember?” he asked her.
She remembered, but how did
he?
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Always new
places to go, separations,” he said. “But we’ve always managed to
find ways to be together sometimes, haven’t we,
Gracie?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to
speak.
Then she escorted her father down to
watch Fred Astaire with his new friends.