CHAPTER ELEVEN
Auggie
I was all aglow that night as I crawled into bed. I had taken the initiative of putting my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek at the end of our date. I wanted to maintain control of where this was headed. Although Worth wasn’t quite the sarcastic bastard I had pegged him to be, I had the distinct impression that he preferred to be in control. I almost felt disappointed, as though I’d lost a foe. This also complicated matters. For the first time in forever, there was a real man interested in me. Someone Mother could not object to. His family was even more respected than ours.
There was something essentially wild about him. I could sense it as strongly as if I were seated upon him, riding the jumps. He was unpredictable and refused to follow the course although I suspect he always won. This was rather appealing. Could I rein him in?
The next morning, Mother was waiting for me in the breakfast room. I knew she was lurking there. I could smell her morning perfume. I thought twice about following through, but I’d come to the conclusion that Mother would have to learn that she was no longer the only player in this household.
“Auggie,” it began. “Mrs. Jessup had to be put in a retirement home.” I almost rolled my eyes at her euphemism. Nursing home wasn’t in Mother’s parlance. “I’d like you to go by and pay her a visit today.”
“Is that so you don’t have to go and smell all the urinals piled in the hallway, Mother?”
“Auggie!”
“Mother? Tell me you’re not above that. You may end up there one day yourself, you know…in a ‘retirement’ home.” I was feeling particularly sparky.
“Elizabeth Augusta!” she sheared off and threw at me. But I caught it well and stomped all over it.
“Mother, calm yourself or you will have an attack and I will pack you in the back seat when I go visit Mrs. Jessup this afternoon.” I grabbed an orange, a cup of coffee from the Keurig and headed back to my room to think about the night before. Let’s see, which would I rather dwell upon? Mrs. Jessup or the handsome Dr. LaViere. Poor Mrs. Jessup.
***
The ‘retirement home’ took on the far more realistic name of “Sunset Village” and when I arrived, and I knew why. I’d never been in one of these places before and the moment I crossed the threshold, I could define everything I didn’t want in life.
I stood at the reception counter for at least ten minutes before a dark-haired woman in nurse’s scrubs and a name tag reading “Betty” strolled past with her cell glued to her ear. She nodded to me and finally ended her call.
“Help you?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Mrs. Jessup, please.”
“Is she a patient?”
I decided to overlook the ludicracy of that question and nodded. I didn’t want to get upset and suck in any more of that air than was absolutely necessary. I could almost see the germs floating around.
“You family?”
What was this, a prison? Why so many questions?
“Yes,” I lied. It was much simpler.
“Room 334, bed two,” she announced finally and pointed behind her. There was one central hall and two wings branching off from that. She didn’t indicate which branch but I thought I’d probably figure out the lay of the land.
I found Mrs. Jessup without any problem. She was the scared woman in the robe with worn-heeled slippers and a bewildered look upon her face. “Hello, Mrs. Jessup,” I said softly. She looked at me, trying to place me. The last time I’d seen her was the previous year at one of the teas held by young ladies who wanted to make it known they were now of marriageable inclination.
Cocking her head, she finally ventured, “Auggie, is that you?”
I nodded and smiled, feeling pity for her. She really was a prisoner and that was a feeling I couldn’t abide. To know one would never leave a place like this still standing, it made me ill and I shuddered.
“I didn’t recognize you without your horse, dear,” she said and smiled sweetly.
“May I take you down to an activity room or somewhere?” I asked.
She nodded and I slid behind the wheelchair and pushed her into the hallway where we went in search of any room that didn’t have a toilet. We ended up in the cafeteria and I chose a sunny table in the corner.
“How are you doing, Mrs. Jessup?” I began, taking the seat opposite her. I spoke loudly, as seemed customary in a place like this.
“You needn’t shout, Auggie,” she said, patting my arm. I’m here because the diabetes is out of control and I’m on dialysis. You know, dear, they hook you to a machine and clean your blood three times a week?”
I tried to look interested, but it felt like I was watching a horror movie. I just didn’t know how to act. How does one say goodbye to someone you know isn’t long for the world and yet you want to cheer them up?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jessup,” I said to the lady who had always been impeccably groomed and whose Derby party invitations were sought after by everyone who was anyone.
“Don’t be, dear. It happens to all of us eventually. I’ll be fine here. They let me have pudding on Wednesdays, even if it is sugar-free.”
Pudding on Wednesdays?
“Is there anything I can bring you, Mrs. Jessup. Anything I can do?”
“No, no, dear. They won’t let you bring anything in and I have everything I need. There is one thing, though…” Her thin lips pressed together and she looked away.
“Yes?”
“Could you stop by once in a while just to say hello? I miss hearing all the gossip and especially what’s going on with the young people. I know a great many secrets, you know, dear. A great many secrets.” Her white-tufted head was quivering a bit and I could tell she wanted to cry. I patted her shriveled hand, blackened by the constant poking with the dialysis needle.
“Mrs. Jessup, I’m sorry, but what happened? You had funds. How did you end up here?”
Her smile faded then and she looked down to her lap. “You remember David and Sarah, right?” I nodded. “I signed everything over to them about a year ago. It seemed so much simpler than probating a will someday. Last Christmas, they told me it would be my last year at home. They were going to find me a place where I would be well taken care of. I have to travel to the clinic every other day.” She laughed. It was a bitter sound. “That’s how I ended up here, you see? This is where they’re taking care of me. They have a driver who takes me.”
I wanted to rip someone’s head off. This was a travesty. Mrs. Jessup and her late husband had a huge estate and once bred a Derby winner. They threw lavish parties and everyone was invited. I remembered them from when I was younger. Governors and even a President once attended. Here she sat, shriveled and blackened in a wheelchair among pots of piss. It simply wasn’t right.
“Don’t worry, Auggie. They will get theirs in the end. You wait and see.”
I nodded. It was the only thing I could do. After another half hour, she asked to go back to her room and take a nap. I wheeled her back and settled her into the flat-mattressed bed with the cheap, dollar store spread and turned the old thirteen-inch color TV so she could see it. It was secured to the metal cabinet upon which it sat with a bicycle cable. As I kissed her forehead goodbye, I made an oath.