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I don’t bother to mention that over half the time, I couldn’t see the aura of the person I was reading. The older I got, the less my ability presented itself to me. Sometimes I worry it’s going to leave me altogether. Then who am I?
“And what was your business called again?”
“The Whispering Halo. It’s a play on words—about how the aura, which can look like a halo, speaks to me.”
“And you did this for twenty years.”
“Yep.”
“But now you’re here ...”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Victim of the COVID economy. California was one of the worst-hit states and had the longest lockdowns. After businesses were allowed to reopen, money was so short that people weren’t engaging in frivolous things like getting their auras read. I toughed it out for a while, but in the end, had to shut down. Six months ago, to be exact.”
And then I was evicted, and then slept on a friend’s couch for a few months, then moved into my car and began driving east, applying for jobs in every town I passed. Of course, I don’t tell him this either.
“Well,” Tristan says, “again, I’m so glad you’ve found your way here.”
The more he says it, the more uncomfortable I get.
How many people rejected his offer before me? And more importantly, why?
4
Lavinia
After coffee, Tristan asks if I want to meet “her.”Her, as in Nina, the woman I will be babysitting. Yes, I said, despite the nerves dancing in my stomach.
I follow Tristan to a wide oak staircase with carved handrails. A blood-red rug runs down the center.
“So,” Tristan says as we climb the stairs, “you know from our interviews that my wife suffered a stroke a couple of years ago. She hasn’t been the same since. One of the biggest challenges is that she lost her ability to speak. We’re not sure if she understands us, but we think she does. Her left leg is almost completely paralyzed, and her left arm too. She has problems seeing and gets a lot of headaches. So, between the paralysis and the headaches, unfortunately, she is restricted to the master bedroom.”
“Can she walk at all?”
“Yes. She can, barely, but only with support and supervision. She rarely even tries to anymore. Her doctors said she has muscle atrophy, which basically means she is extremely weak.”
He speaks in a very matter-of-fact tone. At first, it comes off as cold and dispassionate, but then I remember that Tristan has been dealing with this for years. At some point, I imagine the emotion subsides and you hit a point where you concede that life must go on. Which I suspect is exactly why he’s hired me.
As if reading my thoughts, he says, “I have been Nina’s primary caregiver since the stroke. Mariana, the housekeeper, helped tremendously in the beginning, but she couldn’t keep up with the demand of both taking care of Nina and cleaning the house top to bottom, as you can imagine.”
We stop at the top of the staircase. The rain pounds above us, an incessant white noise like the buzz of a million flies. The temperature is noticeably cooler than that of the first floor, and chills run up my arms. It’s also dark, devoid of lamplight. The door to each room is closed tightly. Unlike the rest of the house, the second floor feels incredibly dark and unwelcoming.
Tristan turns to me. “After Mariana confessed that she couldn’t do it all, I realized it was time to hire someone else to help. You see, I have contracts with my publisher, and they have hard delivery dates. And honestly ...”
He glances down but then forces himself to look up again. Guilt, the man is riddled with it.
“Taking care of Nina drains my creativity. My last book was three months late—and I’m never late. It was a big deal; the book tour had to be completely reworked and rescheduled. My editors had to—” He stops and waves his hands in the air. “Never mind. I don’t need to get into all that. Let’s just say, I’ve learned that I can’t do it all either.”
“Well, I’m here to help.”
“Yes, and thank you. Okay.” He claps his hands together. “So, in a nutshell, your job is to sit with her. To talk to her, to read her books. This is something I did a lot in the beginning, and we’ve seen that her blood pressure lowers when she’s being read to. But FYI,” he laughs, saying, “mybooks put her to sleep, though.”
I chuckle. “Noted.”
“Aside from just being with her, you are in charge of feeding as well. She can feed herself, but because of the paralysis on her left side, it’s messy. Trust me, it’s just easier if you do it. She’s very clumsy. You’ll feed her multiple times a day—don’t worry, I’ve got a schedule and notes printed out—and also help dress and bathe her ...”
My heart skips a beat.Bathe?
“And ... just talk to her. Be her friend. The doctor says it’s possible that one day, maybe she’ll be able to talk again.”
