November 8, 2006
Chapter 9
(Filed under: The Novel)After finishing breakfast and getting presentable for a Saturday, which for Jack meant jeans and a T-shirt, he and Anwyn climbed into his Saab (which was definitely an obscure car in central Kansas) and headed for Truss, a larger town of a few thousand people to the east. A population of a few thousand got you a couple gas stations, a few restaurants that didn't close every few years, and a nursing home.
They rode in a comfortable silence, not needing to always talk. They passed the usual fields and oil pumps, occasional stands of abandoned farm implements. These always intrigued Anwyn. They were old and brown with rust, just plopped in a corner of a yard or field to rot when they were replaced. The farmers didn't get rid of them or haul them off or strip them down for parts. They just hauled them somewhere convenient and dumped them. They'd even go the trouble of keeping the weeds down around them. Apparently that's what you do when you have tons of empty space.
The nursing home was on the edge of town. Jack parked out front and they walked in together, nodding to the few residents who sat in rockers out front. One of them took a deep drag on a cigarette and exhaled slowly.
Jack got directions at a nurse's station and they walked down the hall and knocked on Grandpa Frank's door.
"C'mon in," he called and Jack and Anwyn opened the door and saw Grandpa Frank sitting in a easy chair in the corner, wrapped up in a blanket and reading a book.
"Hi Grandpa."
"Hi Frank," Jack said.
"Well," Grandpa Frank said, setting his book down. "Look at what we got here. C'mon in, have a seat." He motioned for them to sit in one of the vacant chairs or on the bed. Anwyn sat on the bed and Jack sat down in one of the chairs.
"I heard you two were coming to town," Grandpa Frank said. "Now I understand this is a permanent visit, right?"
"Yep, we moved in last week," Jack answered.
"Well, there goes the neighborhood," Grandpa Frank laughed and Anwyn grinned. It felt good to hear his familiar voice.
They talked for an hour, telling Grandpa Frank about how Jack was able to buy his dad's old house back from whoever had it, and now Anwyn, Jack—and of course Charlie—were making it home. They told him about Jack working at home and Anwyn attending Howe High School. She told him she was thinking running track this spring to stay in shape for cross-country in the fall. They asked how he was doing, and he deflected the questions as best he could, finally relenting and admitting his body was tired and weak. But his brain stayed sharp so he read as much as his eyes and his stiff body would allow.
"I'm sorry about Isabelle," Grandpa Frank said abruptly. "You never do understand those, just have to swallow it and move on."
Neither Jack nor Anwyn said anything.
"And I understand my Jill didn't take it very well," Grandpa Frank said.
"No, Frank, she didn't," Jack said. "I'm sorry. I tried—"
"Don't try to explain for her," Grandpa Frank said. "That's her problem. If she wants me to know she can explain it to me herself." He paused for a minute, then raised a finger. "And she better hope she doesn't feel the need to explain it me because I'll put her in hot seat, that's for sure."
Anwyn smiled at the thought of Grandpa Frank sticking it to her mother. Of course that would require Jill slowing down enough to actually call or—God forbid—make her way to central Kansas. It didn't seem likely. Jill was safe from one final scolding from her father.
"I thought I gave Jill a better example than that," Grandpa Frank said. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Jack, and I am." His wrinkled face was firm and somber.
"But enough of that," Grandpa Frank said. "I've got two nice folk right here who aren't sorry to be here—at least not yet." He asked more questions, catching up with Jack and grilling Anwyn about her classes and if her teachers were being hard enough on her.
After a while Anwyn excused herself to go to the bathroom. As she came back she passed the common room, an open area with a TV flashing in the corner—the closed captioning on and the volume muted, though no one was watching—and couches and squishy chairs spread about in little clusters. The room was mostly empty, but she heard a familiar laugh from the corner.
There in the corner sat Oliver and a shriveled, old Hispanic woman. Anwyn walked to say hello.
"Hola muchacho," Anwyn called. Oliver turned, surprised, and smiled back at Anwyn.
"Hola yourself," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"Dad and I are visiting Grandpa Frank," Anwyn said. "And this chica bonita?" She gestured to the old woman crumpled in the chair next to Oliver.
"Abuela," Oliver said, a little louder so she could hear. "Este es Anwyn, prima de Catalina." The old woman smiled and rattled off a welcome in Spanish.
"She says she's pleased to meet you," Oliver said. "This is my grandmother, Guadalupe."
"Hola," Anwyn said. Guadalupe reached out her shaky hand and took Anwyn's hand, holding it tenderly in hers.
"Su abuelo me es muy agradable," Guadalupe said. "Pero su español es pobre."
Oliver started to translate, but Anwyn stopped him.
"Hold on," she said. "Let me try. You said something about my grandpa—'agradable,' that's 'nice' right, He's very nice to you?" Guadalupe nodded. "And his Spanish is poor?" Guadalupe nodded again.
"I didn't know you knew Spanish," Oliver said.
"You didn't think I could pick it up from you, did you?" Anwyn teased. "No, I really don't know Spanish. But taking Spanish I is starting to pay off." She turned back to Guadalupe, "Usted—uh, forget it. I'm just going to look dumb if I try to show off. Are you teaching Spanish to my grandpa?"
"¿Está usted español de enseñanza a mi abuelo?" Guadalupe said, then translated it back for Anwyn in slow, halting English, "Are you teaching Spanish to my grandpa? Sí, él es muy impaciente aprender." She paused again. "Yes, he's very eager to learn."
"That's good for him," Anwyn said. "Es bueno." Oliver's grandmother nodded and let go of Anwyn's hand. She turned to Oliver and returned to her thick Spanish.
"She says she's tired and ready for a nap," Oliver said. "Though it was nice talking with you."
Then Guadalupe reached out to Anwyn again and said, "Usted es una chica muy bonita usted mismo." Oliver looked to Anwyn to translate, but she shook her head. She got the gist of it.
"Gracias," she said. Guadalupe nodded and Oliver helped her to her feet and started back to her room with her.
"Will you wait for me?" Oliver asked.
"Sure," Anwyn said. She plopped down on the couch where Oliver had been sitting and waited. This half of the nursing home was for the more active residents. They could still move around on their own for the most part, though they often needed canes or walkers or a helping hand. They could get around well enough, but not well enough to be on their own. The other half of the nursing home was the more depressing side, all the patients who were slipping away. Their bodies were fading and often their mental state would quickly follow.
"I didn't know your grandma was here," Anwyn said to Oliver when he came back.
"And I didn't know you were learning Spanish," Oliver said. "She's been here for a few years. I try to visit when I can."
"That's impressive. I doubt many teens come in here on their own."
"Well, you're here," Oliver said.
"With my dad," Anwyn said. "Though I wouldn't mind coming to see Grandpa Frank on my own. I think Dad's always a little uneasy around him, especially now."
"Yeah?" Oliver asked. "They always seem to get along."
"They do," Anwyn said. "They get along great. I think it's more a matter of expectations or something. Dad would never say anything, but I think he feels bad that my mom isn't here."
"It's could also be that he gets along better with Grandpa Frank than he does with your other grandpa." Oliver said.
"You think?" Anwyn asked.
"Well, you're here visiting Grandpa Frank," Oliver said. "Have you been to see your other grandpa yet?"
"No, I suppose we haven't," Anwyn admitted. "We haven't even talked about it."
"Sometimes it's easier to just ignore it," Oliver said. Then Anwyn stood up and the two walked back to Grandpa Frank's room.
"So, does driving to the nursing home quality as to and from work?" Anwyn asked.
"Huh?"
"Your driver's license," Anwyn said, "I thought you could only get it early if it was for driving to and from work."
"This is work," Oliver said. "It's my duty to visit my grandmother."
"Tell that to the cops," Anwyn said.
"I will when they pull me over," Oliver said. "How many cop cars have you seen since you've been here?"
"None," Anwyn admitted.
"See?" Oliver said. "Besides, I am on my way to and from work. This is just a detour. And nobody's going to throw the only kid in the county who visits his poor grandmother in the old folk's home."
"You should see about getting your license," Oliver said.
"I hadn't really thought about it, but I guess I should," Anwyn said. "Back in St. Paul I just took the bus everywhere. I hadn't though about getting my driver's license there either."
In fact, she remembered that Isabelle didn't get her license until the summer she died. At that point it was a formality, a convenient ID and the fact that it enabled her to drive an automobile was secondary.
She also remembered her Grandpa Frank teaching Isabelle how to drive on a deserted country road. Isabelle had maybe been 12 and was so far off from getting her license that it seemed more like play than an actual lesson. Isabelle sat behind the wheel of Grandpa Frank's pickup, with Grandpa Frank in the passenger's seat and 8-year-old Anwyn riding in the back. That was something else she had only ever dared to do in Kansas.
Anwyn remembered holding on to the roll bar and watching over the cab of the pickup. She remembered Isabelle veering left and then right at first, and then slowly settling down and learning to keep the vehicle centered in its lane. She couldn't hear the instructions her grandpa gave, but she did notice the color slowly return to her sister's knuckles as the lesson went on.
"Hola, Oliver," Grandpa Frank said when Anwyn and Oliver reached his room. "¿Cómo es su abuela?"
"Hola," Oliver said, Muy bueno, gracias."
"Did I tell you I'm learning Spanish?" Grandpa Frank asked Anwyn and Oliver. "Guadalupe, Oliver's grandmother, has been kind enough to teach me a few things."
"So I heard," Anwyn said.
"This kid's been kind enough to stop in and say hola, as well," Grandpa Frank said, trying to throw a playful punch at Oliver, but his arm was too slow to react. It had the effect of an involuntary movement.
"It's good to see you again, Oliver," Jack said, reaching out to shake his hand.
"You, too, Uncle Jack," Oliver said.
"Throw that door open a little wider," Grandpa Frank said. "I want the whole wing to see the kind of parties I throw." Everyone laughed and Anwyn and Oliver sat down and again. But then the nurse came and it was time for Grandpa Frank's pills and his physical therapy.
"C'mon Eustis," Grandpa Frank said, chiding the nurse. "Can't you come back later, after the party."
"Sorry, Mr. Nelson," Eustis said. "I'm late enough as it is. I let you visit with your partygoers longer than I should have."
"That's all right, Frank," Jack said, standing up. "We should probably get going anyway." The others stood to leave, the men shaking hands with Grandpa Frank and Anwyn giving him hug. They filed out as Eustis watched, and then she turned to help Grandpa Frank get up.
They were halfway down the hallway when Anwyn mumbled for them to hold on and she ran back.
"Grandpa," she said as she half knocked and half pushed the door open. The blanket that had been wrapped around him was gone and Eustis was helping him out of his bathrobe. She hastily covered him up again when she heard Anwyn, but Anwyn caught the sight of her grandfather's withered body. His arms and legs—which were once strong and protective—were stick thin and covered in spots. His body was surely failing him, and Anwyn felt as though his mind were trying desperately to hang on, to make up for the physical failings.
"Grandpa," she continued, her face not even registering that she's seen the state of her grandfather's health, "Would it be OK if I came back for another party sometime?"
"Hell, you have to ask?" Grandpa Frank said with a menacing look on his face. Then he softened. "Anwyn," he said, "I'd love it. You'll make old Eustis here jealous."
"Oh stop," Eustis said, "Maybe you do need a shot today."
"OK, Grandpa," Anwyn said. "I just wanted to check. I'll see you later." She waved and her grandfather nodded, too tired to wave back.
Posted by kevin at November 8, 2006 6:21 PM
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