Chapter 2 – One Step at a Time
Maya –
“Bingo!”
“You could not have gotten Bingo already, Erma. She’s barely called any numbers.”
“I did so, Betty. She’ll check the numbers, just you wait. The Bingo gods love me ‘cause I’m not a crabby old hag like you.”
“I might be crabby, but I’m not a cheater.”
“How can you cheat at Bingo? Maya checks. If you can cheat at Bingo, lemme know how, ‘cause I’m all for cheatin’.”
“No one’s cheating.” I sigh. Sometimes I wonder if I work with the elderly or preschoolers. “Tell me your numbers, Erma.”
Erma calls out her numbers and she was right, the Bingo gods definitely love her. She wins a lot.
“Bingo,” I confirm. I reach for the old boom box we use and cue up the song on the CD. “We all know what that means. Everybody up. It’s good for your circulation. Let’s hokey pokey.”
“I hate ‘The Hokey Pokey’,” Betty complains. Betty always complains about something. “Can we do the ‘The Twist’?”
“We’ll twist next Bingo,” I offer.
“I want to do that slide dance,” Foxy yells from the back. Foxy is spry and surprisingly limber for his age. When I first started working here, I asked how he got the name Foxy and he said he didn’t know. He’s been called Foxy his whole life and, since his given name is Cornelius, he was good with Foxy. Who could blame him? I’d be good with Foxy, too.
“Most of us can’t hop, Foxy!” Emma Lou shouts even though she’s sitting right next to him. She must not be wearing her hearing aid. She’s right, though. Foxy is the only one who can hop. He’s also the only man who plays Bingo and I’m pretty sure he does it only for the dances. We do a little dance every time someone gets a Bingo. It’s a good way to get them up and moving.
I push play on the CD player and yell over the music so they can all hear me, “Two more Bingos, it’s almost lunchtime. We’ll twist and cha-cha next. Come on, sing with me!”
I lead them in “The Hokey Pokey.” My group of about fifteen seniors sing and dance, some having fun, others only pokey grudgingly. I do my best to dance around the room to get them in the mood—I’m over feeling like a fool when doing things like this. It’s my job to keep them excited, and really, I think they like me for it.
We put our arms in and out, our legs in and out, and we turned ourselves around. By the time we’re done, they’re breathing hard and I can tell they’ve had enough. We play two more rounds of Bingo, with breaks for “The Twist” and finally the “Cha Cha,” which makes Foxy a very happy man.
There aren’t many men here at Rolling Hills Ranch. I’d say the ratio is hardly five to one. It’s also hard to get them involved in games like this—Foxy is one of the only joiners. I do my best to coax them out of their rooms.
They do like to be outside, though. This fall we played horseshoes. I had to fetch the horseshoes for them, but I did it because it made them happy. We even tried croquet, but they don’t like to bend over, so that wasn’t a good idea.
I quickly clean up the Bingo sheets and markers as the residents move to the cafeteria. I spot the sneaky seniors who I’ve secretly named the Clickety-Clique walk by. “Miss Lillian Rose, you better not sneak a regular plate again. You’re BP was up—you need to stick with the low-sodium meal.” Lillian Rose is from the deep south in Alabama, and her family moved her here so she could be closer to them. She loves her southern food, but her blood pressure does not. She’s thicker than thieves with some of these women and they’ve started smuggling her food on the side. “Yeah, I’m looking at you, Dot. You’re not doing her any favors by pilfering food that’s not good for her.”
Just to show me they don’t give a damn, the entire group rolls their eyes.
“That’s what my medication’s for,” Miss Lillian Rose says as she struts out of the commons to the cafeteria.
Sighing, I gather my things to return to the storeroom. I’ve been here since seven this morning to plan and get ready for the day. We usually start after breakfast around nine. So far today, we’ve gone for a morning walk, sung karaoke, played trivia, and just now, Bingo Dance Party. Not everyone does everything—that would be too much for anyone in this group. I try to vary the activities so there’s something for everyone. The Ranch isn’t the poshest assisted living facility on the planet, but it isn’t a dump, either. Their monthly payment includes activities to entertain and keep them healthy, both physically and mentally. They have other activities here in the afternoons, but they’re group-led, or volunteers come in to organize a book club or a Bible study. The residents are most energetic in the mornings, so that’s when I’m scheduled, which works well with the winery. I usually stick around through their early lunch, then by noon I’m back at Whitetail, where I work the regular lunch hour through closing in the tasting room.
As I put everything away so I can work on my schedule for next week, the director stops me in the hall. “Hey, have you started the process to get licensed in Virginia? Cheryl gave me her notice yesterday. She’ll be gone at the end of February. Everyone really loves you, and as much as I’ll hate losing you in activities, I need a good PT on staff.”
I bite my lip because I’m going to have to talk my way through this, and I’m so tired of bullshitting those around me. What I hate even more is I’m becoming really good at it, and coming from a long line of really good bullshitters, it’s not a family trait I was hoping to inherit.
I’m a bullshitter and a creeper. I’m beginning to hate the new me.
“I’ve gathered the paperwork and have started digging through it. Virginia is a bit different than New York. I think I have to take some additional classes, they won’t allow me to test out. I’m working on it,” I lie. Lying sucks and it seems the longer I’m here, the more I’m lying. Maybe it’s time to sever my ties and move on. I’m not quite sure what the normal protocol is for staying in the same place when you’re hiding from your ex and his family.
“Perfect. How long do you think it will take?” he asks.
It shouldn’t even take a month. I’ve looked into it and, other than some paperwork, it’s only a few exams which shouldn’t be hard. Besides getting all my New York credentials transferred, it should be a simple process. What’s not easy is doing all this while hoping it won’t create a paper trail. I’m almost positive as soon as I start, someone’s pockets will be lined green, and I’ll be found instantly. “I’m not sure—it’s a lot of red tape.”
“Be sure and get it done. I really want to slide you into that position. It took me forever to find Cheryl, I went through three therapists before I found someone who wasn’t scared off by the sweet dispositions of our clientele.” His eyes widen with sarcasm.
“I’m on it.” I smile and try to appease him with another lie. Even though the paperwork is all sitting back at my bungalow, finished and ready to file, I’m totally not on it. I’m so scared, I’m not even close to being on it.
Later, on my way out, I hear my name called as I walk past the cafeteria. “Maya.”
Stephanie, the office manager, is waving to me from down the hall, so I stop and turn back. She’s standing with a younger man, and when I say younger, I mean probably in his mid-forties. Not a potential resident, that’s for sure.
“Mr. Acogi, this is our activities director, Maya Augustine.” Stephanie turns to me and continues. “Jeff Acogi is touring our facility for his uncle who lives in the area.”
I offer my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Acogi. I haven’t been here long, but all the residents really seem to enjoy it.”
“Miss Augustine.” He takes my hand and tips his head. “It’s a pleasure. I like what I see so far.”
Stephanie turns back to him. “Maya is the best activities director we’ve had in a long while. Our residents really take to her, she works hard to get everyone involved. You can know that if you choose Rolling Hills Ranch for your uncle, there will be plenty of events to engage and keep him moving.”
Finally releasing my hand, Mr. Acogi says, “You must be very dedicated. It sounds like everyone enjoys having you here.”
I say nothing about hoping to someday be brave enough to get my Virginia PT license so I can work here in another capacity, and simply say while shrugging, “I like it here, too. The feeling is mutual.”
Stephanie smiles at me. “Thanks for stopping to say hi, Maya.”
“Of course.” I turn back to Mr. Acogi one more time. “Enjoy your tour.”
He smiles. “I already have.”
*****
Ron MacLachlan –
Upstate New York
“Boss, you got a call.”
“I told you I didn’t want to be bothered,” I yell without looking back.
Fucking recruits. We had a break from the cold and all I asked for was a couple hours to sit and fish. Can they not handle any-fucking-thing? I hardly get to the lake house anymore as it is.
“Sorry, boss. It’s Jeff. I told him you ordered no interruptions, but he wouldn’t have it. Said I’d be in a fuckload of trouble if I didn’t get you right away. I like to walk straight and don’t want a hole in my foot.”
When I look over, our newest and most motivated recruit in a long time, Trevor, is holding a cell out for me.
I fucking hate cell phones, too. We never had trouble doing business back in the day when we couldn’t be reached at a moment’s notice. If anything, it was easier back then.
If one of my lieutenants insists, I know it’s a big deal, so I shift my reel to one hand and take the fucking cell. Jeff went south to visit family, which really makes me wonder what this shit is about.
“What?” I clip.
“The kid said you’re at the lake fishing. Sorry to interrupt.”
“Glad you’re sorry, but you’re still interrupting. What do you want?” Not one nibble all day, and now that I have a fucking phone to my ear, my bobber dips.
“I’m in Virginia visiting my uncle.”
Shifting the phone to my ear, I slowly reel in the slack on my line. “Did you forget my Nancy made him baked ziti with sweet sausage? Just got my first bite all day and you call to tell me something I fucking know?”
“We had it last night. He loved it. Send my gratitude to Nancy. That’s not what I’m calling about.”
My line pulls taut and I stand to give it a good yank to sink my hook. “I’m gonna throw this cell in the water if you don’t tell me something I care about real fucking quick.”
“Boss,” he starts and his voice dips, finally getting to it. “I found something you’ve been looking for.”
“It better be the holy grail, Jeff.” I wind my reel slowly as my rod arches.
“Sorry, Ronny, no. But maybe the next best thing. I found Weston’s woman.”
I stop reeling and grab the cell with my hand. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah. I’d love to say it’s because I tracked her down, but I didn’t. We all know she left no trail. It was pure luck I found her. She works at a retirement facility I was touring for my uncle. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her. Thought it couldn’t be, but they introduced her as Maya. Surprised she stuck with her real name. I have no doubt it’s her. She doesn’t know me—we don’t need to worry about her getting spooked.”
I thrust my rod at the recruit and turn, moving quickly from the dock. “I want all the details. Don’t leave anything out. You sure she didn’t recognize you?”
“I’m sure. I’ve only seen her from afar and in pictures since she vanished. Now she only knows me as someone’s nephew. I don’t think she’d have any reason to be suspicious.”
“Stay,” I order. “Watch her ‘til I send Byron to you, then you can come home. Keep this quiet for now. Weston’s gonna go crazy when he learns we found her. I need more information first. I’m not calling the Augustines, either. You handle Byron when he gets there. Make this your first priority, hear me?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Jeff goes into detail about where he found her, what she said, and everything he knows. It isn’t fucking much, but it’s enough. She’s been gone for months. With what happened, I would’ve thought she’d gone farther. Maybe she went far enough. It’s not like we found her by our own talents—she fell into our laps.
As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes a bit of luck is all that’s needed. Or maybe it’s the million candles Nancy has lit since she left. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.
Weston will be another story.
My son—the longer she’s been gone, the more agitated he’s become. He knows he fucked up and caused this shit storm. But if Jeff’s right and this is really her, we can bring her home.
I’ve just gotta figure out how without causing too much angst with the Augustines. Once she’s back, we’ll deal with her.
One step at a time.