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I stare at the nearly-shut door in disbelief, as if I can see her through it. Lolly never used to cuss at all, and that has changed lately, but I’ve still never heard her cuss likethat.
When the rest of what she said registers with me, I look at Lisa again and sigh. I know now that she was telling the truth before. “Her shells, huh?”
“Yeah. We don’t know what she means. We even checked her possessions log, and we didn’t see any record of shells being brought in.”
I shake my head. “No, they were never here. She’s talking about some earrings my grandpa bought for her way back on their honeymoon—dangly gold seashell earrings. She called them her shells. Lost them years and years ago.”
Lisa looks relieved to finally understand, but I’m just sad.
Even as Lolly continues ranting in her room, I ask quietly, “You really think I should leave?”
Lisa shrugs one shoulder. “Well, in the past twenty-four hours, if she’s been awake, she’s been short-tempered. Every few hours, she has an actual outburst. So, no, I don’t think it would be a pleasant visit. It’s really up to you, though.”
The last part makes my decision easy. “I’d like to see her.”
Lisa doesn’t protest.
And, to our pleasant surprise, we soon learn my sticking around wasn’t a bad idea after all. Seeing me actually calms Lolly enough that she stops yelling and cussing, although sheisstill snappish and still seething about her shells.
I’ve been told that when she’s in one of her bad moods, disagreeing or talking loudly will only make things worse, so I don’t do those things. I don’t even try to explain to her why her shells are really missing. I just listen and nod and try to radiate peacefulness.
It’s not easy; seeing her like this is distressing.
But her caregivers and I have found that sometimes when she’s upset about something, changing the subject helps. It works this time, thankfully. I tell her I’m hungry, and although she can’t remember what all she ate today, she starts talking about how much she likes lasagna. I want to tell her about my choking thing while we’re on the subject of eating, but I don’t really find a good time. I decide to wait and see what tomorrow’s visit looks like.
I’m pretty proud of myself for chilling her out, and by the time I need to leave so she can be bathed, I’m in a much better mood than when I walked through the door. It makes me even happier when she hugs me before I head out.
It is, however, impossible to pretend I didn’t notice that she never said my name.
Even when Lisa first walked me into the room and said, “Nadine, look who’s here!” all Lolly did was give me a look of familiarity.
It hurts, but not enough to ruin my mood.
Stay positive,I tell myself on the way to my car.A positive mind is a healthy mind.
I wonder if Lolly remembers teaching me that.
Once I’m back at my apartment building, I have to walk past Liv’s door, and it makes me want to see if she’s home. I’m feeling all right between my visit with Lolly and no longer having to deal with Amanda. I want to thank Liv again for her help, and I’d also love to talk with her some more.
I don’t stop and knock, though. My stomach is grumbling, plus I don’t want to start popping up out of nowhere. I only really met her last night.
Maybe I’ll reach out if I don’t see her around sometime soon, like at Abby’s birthday party.
Deciding that sounds good, I put her out of my mind for now and continue on home.
After I assemble a hell of a sandwich, I kick back on the couch and turn onIt’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.Then I help myself to Amanda’s left-behind chocolate ice cream and watch even moreIt’s Always Sunny.When I get tired, I brush my teeth in my uncluttered bathroom and then retire to my wonderfully unembellished bedroom. My apartment is quiet and peaceful.
All in all, I’d say this has been a nice day.
*
I wake up early in the morning, but I feel rested. It occurs to me while I’m showering that I should call and see if I need to visit Lolly before work. If she’s awake and in a better mood, I won’t wait until tonight to stop by.
It turns out sheisawake and in a better mood, so after I swing by the nearest store and pick up some brightly-colored flowers, I head to Quiet Springs.
“Knock, knock,” I say once I’m at her open door.
“Come on in!” calls a male voice I haven’t heard in a while. I enter the room and exchange waves with Greg, one of the main daytime caregivers, before he goes back to checking her vitals. “Well, lookie there, Nadine! Your grandson is here to pay us a visit!”
