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“I will,” I call out to her, speed walking down the short hall to the one bedroom I have.
“Like right after,” she yells after me.
“I know. I got it,” I say and then close the door to my bedroom to start trying on outfits.
I have all of twenty minutes to toss something on, pull my hair up into a bun and get down to the new center for Jerrin if I want to get the deposit and contract signed and still make in time for our ten am appointment.
I can’t be late for our interview. He just gave me the check I need and I’m about to spend it. I have to make sure I hold up my end of the bargain.
“Ms. Di Costa,” the woman at the front desk of the new center says as I walk through the double automatic glass doors.
She was the one who also gave me a tour of the facilities the first time I came in to look at the place.
“I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of days. Were you able to get everything squared away?” her warm smile and the warmth of the front office remind me of why I decided that spending the money for Jerrin to be here is worth it.
“Yes, I did, thank you. I have the deposit and I’d like to lock in his spot here.”
“Fantastic,” she says almost leaning out of her seat to reach a file cabinet under her desk. “I already have the paperwork drafted up for you. I had a good feeling that this was all going to work out. Jerrin is going to love it here. I think he’ll be a perfect fit,” she says, her head ducked behind the tall desk where I can’t see her.
I look around the lobby. There are several small living room-like setups for families to come to visit or for residents to come down and grab a puzzle or deck of cards for a change of scenery from their studio apartments.
Fresh flowers in vases adorn several tables around the space. One large vase of spring flowers sits on the reception desk. This is going to give him that home feel that the other center lacks. Not that they can help it. The center he’s in now runs on government funds, whereas this place has private money running through it.
“I think he’s going to fit in here really well too. I told him about swim therapy and the painting and gardening classes. I think he’s most excited about the chess club you have here though,” I tell her remembering my brother’s eyes lighting up when I mentioned the many different clubs he can participate in… if he chooses to.
“Well, then I have a surprise. I spoke with our resident coordinator and told her that Jerrin loves Poker. Turns out one of our occupational therapists has poker night at his house once a month so she’s setting him up as Jerrin’s therapist. That should give them something to bond over.”
I can’t stop the stupid grin forming across my lips.
I’m grateful that my brother has had a safe place to be during the time he’s been at the other facility, but it’s time for his personal growth to expand as much as possible.
Change can be hard for him but this center understands that and is working to find ways to help Jerrin assimilate as quickly as possible
Jerrin might not say it, but I know he wants more independence, and that’s what they focus on here.
“Here’s the check for the first, last, and deposit,” I tell her, sliding a cashier's check over the counter towards her.
I’ve written checks this size, but usually, it’s a client's money to pay a vendor or a location.
Never have I paid a lump sum this large for something personal. Though I guess I’m not the one paying for it, Ryker is.
She slides the check over in her direction and then she exchanges it for the contract.
“Go ahead and sign on the three spots that I left a ‘sign here’ sticky. Then you’ll be all set. I have an available move-in date on… “ She leans to her left to the wall there and looks at the calendar. “A week from today if that works?” she offers.
That's quicker than expected but will work well since I leave the next day for Vancouver with Ryker. I’d like to have Jerrin settled before I go.
“That sounds perfect,” I say, signing the three spots on the contract and then sliding it back over to her. I can hardly believe this is happening, and I have Ryker to thank for making it possible. “Could you call me with the exact move-in date? I need to leave now to avoid being late for another appointment,” I ask, looking at the time on my phone.
I have enough time to get to the immigration office, but you can never be too sure with unruly traffic.
“Sure thing Ms. Di Costa. Thanks again for letting us know. I’ll give you a call once I’ve confirmed that his apartment will be ready,” she says, pulling the signed contract off the reception desk.
“That would be great. Talk to you soon,” I tell her.
“You bet,” she says back.
I turn and head for the glass automatic doors that I had come through a few minutes before.
