Chapter 32
The morning after Red walked out on him, Sam picked up his phone, expecting it to be the Lafayette grower he was trying to persuade to join the consortium.
But instead, the display said Woodcrest.
Probably calling to tell him about the new diagnosis.
He put the phone on speaker and continued browsing his computer.
“Sam Owens.”
“Mr. Owens? We’re going to have to ask that you come and get your father.”
His hands stilled on the keyboard. The Dad problem was over. He wasn’t going backward now. Only forward.
He sat back. “What do you mean, come get him? It’s taken care of. He has dementia. It’s confirmed.”
“I’m aware of that.”’
He felt his anger, always just under the surface, rising. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m afraid your father has been harassing the other residents. There’s been some unwelcome touching, even groping. Last night he accosted a woman in the elevator.”
Sam sat up straight. When did players stop playing? At what age would the old goat finally call it quits?
“What do you mean, accosted?”
“Held Mrs. Piccolo against a wall and kissed her. The victim’s husband has threatened to press assault charges. Ironically, the dementia diagnosis came just in time. Without that, his complaint might have had legs.”
He grabbed his phone, taking it off speaker as he rose from his desk and went to the window. “I’ll call my Dad and talk to him.”
“That won’t work. We had to confiscate his phone.”
“What?”
“The fire department called and said Mr. Owens has been calling them repeatedly, complaining that he was being mistreated. The police, too. To be honest, that’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before. Nevertheless, you understand why we couldn’t let it continue.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That’s right, it won’t, because he can’t stay here.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair.
He had to stay there. He couldn’t possibly come home. If Sam followed through with the plan that was becoming rooted in his mind, there would be no more ‘home.”
“Look. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”
“It’s beyond that. For the well-being of our other residents, I have no choice but to ask you to remove him.”
“But there’s no place else for him to go.”
A heavy sigh in the phone. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to locate something.”
“This isn’t right. You can’t just kick him out. I’m going to talk to my attorney.”
“That’s fine. We’ll need to hear back from you within twenty-four hours.”
“Twenty-four hours? How do you expect me to find a place in that amount of time? You can’t do that. There has to be a law.”
“We’re a private facility, Mr. Owens. The well-being of our residents and staff is our highest priority. Imagine if the situation was reversed. If it were someone else, harassing your father. How long would you tolerate that?”
“Can’t you confine him to his room or something?”
“That’s neither practical nor humane.”
Of course it wasn’t. What was wrong with him?
Sam hung up, mind racing. What did people do in these circumstances? He couldn’t take Dad back to the saltbox. And the old consortium wasn’t an option. It had only the one small bedroom. Besides, there was nothing for Dad to do there all day while Sam was at work. Somewhere there had to be another facility that would take him. But not with a mere twenty-four hours’ notice.
Dad needed help.
What to do? He was supposed to be this master manipulator. But no amount of physical dangers, high-threat, clandestine meetings, or the psychological burdens of extreme loneliness and detachment had prepared him to take care of an aging parent.
He had never come up against anything like this. He spoke high school Spanish, a little Russian, and was fluent in Arabic, but he couldn’t speak medicalese. He needed someone who could. He needed professional help.
* * * *
When Red saw who was calling, she turned back to the medical history she was reviewing.
Sam could call her all he wanted. She wasn’t going to respond.
When the call finally went to voice mail, she breathed a sigh of relief, shook her head, and went back to her chart.
Seconds later, it rang again.
“I’m not talking to you,” she spat to the phone. She needed fewer problems in her life, not more.
She tried to concentrate on the referral on her computer screen. Patient is a thirty-nine-year-old female with hypertension and hypercholesterolemia. She is not having any trouble with her medications.
A thought needled her. What if something was really wrong?
The third time, she snatched it on the first ring.
“What part of we’re through don’t you understand?”
“You’ve got to help me, Doc. He’s not going back to that house. I’m not taking him back. It’s not an option.”
She frowned. “What do you mean? I thought it was settled. He has dementia. He needs twenty-four hour supervision.”
“kicked him out.”
She clutched the phone while Sam explained the events that had transpired since George’s diagnosis had been handed down.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do. It’s out of my hands. I have no pull at Woodcrest. I’ve only been there a short while.”
“You can talk to them. You speak their language.”
“Woodcrest is not the problem. The problem is your father.”
“Talk to him, then. Try to talk some sense into him.”
“It sounds as though it’s too late for that. A decision has already been made.”
“I can’t go back to the way it used to be. Do you hear me?”
“You have to understand that Woodcrest has their reputation to safeguard. Word gets around that residents are being groped in the hallways and they’re not doing anything about it, there’s going to be a stink.”
“Talk to him. Please. Go over and talk to Dad.”
She snorted. “I have a full slate today. I can’t just walk out on my patients.”
“After work, then. Just talk to them, will you? Buy me some time. Talk to Dad. See if you can figure out what’s going through the son of a bitch’s head. If anyone can do it, you can.”
She sighed.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Doc.” She could hear his relief through the phone.
“I’m not making any promises.”
“I understand. Just let me know the minute you have news.”