another, she remembered the name of the other dog, giving it to this one, generalizing the way young kids do, designating every animal “doggie” until they learn otherwise.
Cora smiled.
“Is the baby hungry?”
She slid the biscuit out of her pocket.
Dashiell looked at it soulfully. Definitely a Patsy-winning performance.
“She is hungry, she is,” said Cora, letting him slip the biscuit gently from her bent fingers.
“My other daughter, Eileen,” she whispered, “now you don’t go telling on me I told you this, she’s taken all my things. I tried to get them back, but she has lawyers.” Cora’s eyes began to tear up.
“Oh, she was the smart one,” she said, nodding. “She told me she’d keep everything safe for me. But where? I don’t know where anything is. My own daughter. Not a good girl like you. She never visits me.”
I patted her dry old hand, the skin so thin you could almost see through it.
“I signed documents,” she whispered. “I trusted her.” Cora folded her arms across her chest. “From that day forward, I never saw another penny, not a bill, not a check, not a bank statement, not my jewelry.” She was working herself into a froth, the same story I’d heard a hundred times at the Village Nursing Home. “I don’t even have a watch,” shewhined, tapping her wrist near the identification band all the residents wore. “I don’t know what time it is.”
“It’s pretty lucky you live at Harbor View, where you get taken care of no matter what time it is, and where Lady comes to visit you. How about a little trick today?” I asked, hoping to distract her from her worries.
“I don’t know any tricks,” she said indignantly.
“Maybe Lady knows one.”
“Lady doesn’t do tricks. She’s just here to love us.”
Dora wheeled herself in from the hallway, her freshly washed hair tight against her head like a cap.
“Oh, goody, Lady’s here,” she said, “in my—”
“Room,” Cora said. “Let’s take her—”
“Downstairs. Let’s take her out to the garden,” Dora said.
“But my daughter’s here.”
“Where?”
Then they both looked around the room.
“Do you know who she is?” Dora was frowning.
“Why, of course.”
“Who is she?”
“Don’t you know?” Cora said.
They both stared at me.
“Do you have children?” Dora finally asked me.
I shook my head.
“They never visit you.”
“Tell her to go away,” Cora said. She flapped her hands in my direction, shooing me out of her room.
“Would you like to see Lady wave good-bye before I go?”
Cora frowned. “She doesn’t—”
“Yes,” Dora said, “Oh, goody.”
“Goody two-shoes,” Cora said.
I signaled Dashiell to wave. Sitting in front of them, helifted one paw high and patted the air with it. Cora wasn’t impressed. She turned her head away, hoping that, one way or the other, I would disappear.
By then, she wasn’t the only one who wanted me to move on. Someone’s diaper needed changing. Nu, my grandmother Sonya would have said, you think you’ll smell like Lily of the Valley when you ’re old?
Cora and Dora shared a room on the second floor, facing east, over the garden. Dash and I took the stairs down to the main floor, turning left toward the garden door, straight back from the front entrance. Venus had given me a set of keys so that I could come and go as needed. I unlocked the garden door and stepped outside with Dashiell into the sultry heat of the August afternoon.
The garden was bricked in the center, no grass to mow, with a scattering of weathered teak tables with backless benches and plantings all around the perimeter in raised brick beds, a large tree in the center of it all for shade. I walked out and looked around, checking the gates to the side alleys, finding them high enough to keep both an agile dog and a tall human in, and locked up tight.
Dash began to sniff the places where Lady had left her scent, and I inspected the wall that surrounded the
Cora smiled.
“Is the baby hungry?”
She slid the biscuit out of her pocket.
Dashiell looked at it soulfully. Definitely a Patsy-winning performance.
“She is hungry, she is,” said Cora, letting him slip the biscuit gently from her bent fingers.
“My other daughter, Eileen,” she whispered, “now you don’t go telling on me I told you this, she’s taken all my things. I tried to get them back, but she has lawyers.” Cora’s eyes began to tear up.
“Oh, she was the smart one,” she said, nodding. “She told me she’d keep everything safe for me. But where? I don’t know where anything is. My own daughter. Not a good girl like you. She never visits me.”
I patted her dry old hand, the skin so thin you could almost see through it.
“I signed documents,” she whispered. “I trusted her.” Cora folded her arms across her chest. “From that day forward, I never saw another penny, not a bill, not a check, not a bank statement, not my jewelry.” She was working herself into a froth, the same story I’d heard a hundred times at the Village Nursing Home. “I don’t even have a watch,” shewhined, tapping her wrist near the identification band all the residents wore. “I don’t know what time it is.”
“It’s pretty lucky you live at Harbor View, where you get taken care of no matter what time it is, and where Lady comes to visit you. How about a little trick today?” I asked, hoping to distract her from her worries.
“I don’t know any tricks,” she said indignantly.
“Maybe Lady knows one.”
“Lady doesn’t do tricks. She’s just here to love us.”
Dora wheeled herself in from the hallway, her freshly washed hair tight against her head like a cap.
“Oh, goody, Lady’s here,” she said, “in my—”
“Room,” Cora said. “Let’s take her—”
“Downstairs. Let’s take her out to the garden,” Dora said.
“But my daughter’s here.”
“Where?”
Then they both looked around the room.
“Do you know who she is?” Dora was frowning.
“Why, of course.”
“Who is she?”
“Don’t you know?” Cora said.
They both stared at me.
“Do you have children?” Dora finally asked me.
I shook my head.
“They never visit you.”
“Tell her to go away,” Cora said. She flapped her hands in my direction, shooing me out of her room.
“Would you like to see Lady wave good-bye before I go?”
Cora frowned. “She doesn’t—”
“Yes,” Dora said, “Oh, goody.”
“Goody two-shoes,” Cora said.
I signaled Dashiell to wave. Sitting in front of them, helifted one paw high and patted the air with it. Cora wasn’t impressed. She turned her head away, hoping that, one way or the other, I would disappear.
By then, she wasn’t the only one who wanted me to move on. Someone’s diaper needed changing. Nu, my grandmother Sonya would have said, you think you’ll smell like Lily of the Valley when you ’re old?
Cora and Dora shared a room on the second floor, facing east, over the garden. Dash and I took the stairs down to the main floor, turning left toward the garden door, straight back from the front entrance. Venus had given me a set of keys so that I could come and go as needed. I unlocked the garden door and stepped outside with Dashiell into the sultry heat of the August afternoon.
The garden was bricked in the center, no grass to mow, with a scattering of weathered teak tables with backless benches and plantings all around the perimeter in raised brick beds, a large tree in the center of it all for shade. I walked out and looked around, checking the gates to the side alleys, finding them high enough to keep both an agile dog and a tall human in, and locked up tight.
Dash began to sniff the places where Lady had left her scent, and I inspected the wall that surrounded the
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