“It’s entirely up to you. I can wake him if you like.”
“Don’t do that. There’s no hurry,” I said. “I leave for work at eight thirty. If he’s up, I can visit with him then.”
“He’s up at six o’clock. Early to bed and early to rise.”
“How’s he doing?”
She pointed. “We should talk in the kitchen.”
“Oh, sure.”
She retraced her steps and turned left into the kitchen. I trailed behind, trying to tread as quietly as she did. The kitchen, like the living room and bedroom, had undergone a transformation. The same appliances were in place, yellowed with age, but now a brand-new microwave sat on the counter, which was otherwise bare. Everything was clean, and it looked like the kitchen curtains had been laundered, ironed, and rehung.
In a belated answer to my query, she said, “He has good days and bad. At his age, they don’t bounce back so quick. He’s made progress, but it’s two steps forward, three steps back.”
“I gathered as much. I know his niece is concerned about his mental state.”
The animation dropped like a veil falling away from her face. “You talked to her?”
“She called me yesterday. She said when they talked on the phone he seemed confused. She asked if I’d noticed any change in him. I haven’t seen him for weeks so I really couldn’t say, but I told her I’d stop in.”
“His memory isn’t what it was. I explained that to her. If she has questions about his care she should address them to me.” Her tone was slightly testy and the color had risen in her cheeks.
“She isn’t worried about his care. She was wondering if I’d picked up on anything myself. She said you suspected dementia…”
“I never said any such thing.”
“You didn’t? Maybe I’m mistaken, but I thought she said you’d mentioned early signs of dementia.”
“She misunderstood. I said dementia was one of several possibilities. It could be hypothyroidism or a vitamin B deficiency, both reversible with proper treatment. I wouldn’t presume to make a diagnosis. It’s not my place.”
“She didn’t say you’d made any kind of claim. She was just alerting me to the situation.”
“‘Situation.’” She was looking at me intently, and I could see she’d somehow taken offense.
“Sorry. I guess I’m not expressing myself well. She said he sounded confused on the phone and thought it might have been his medication or something like that. She said she called you right afterward and the two of you discussed it.”
“And now she’s sent you to double-check.”
“On him, not on you.”
She broke off eye contact, her manner prickly and stiff. “It’s unfortunate she felt the need to have a conversation with you behind my back. Apparently, she wasn’t satisfied with my account.”
“Honestly, she didn’t call to talk about you. She asked if I’d noticed any change in him.”
Now her eyes bored into me, hot and dark. “So now you’re the doctor? Perhaps you’d like to see my notes. I keep a record of everything, which is what I was taught. Medications, blood pressure, his bowel movements. I’d be happy to send her a copy if she doubts my qualifications or my dedication to her uncle’s care.”
I didn’t actually squint at her, but I felt myself focus on the skewed exchange. Was she nuts? I couldn’t seem to extract myself from the misinterpretation. I was afraid if I uttered two more sentences, she’d quit the job in a huff and Melanie would be up a tree. It was like being in the presence of a snake, first hissing its presence and then coiled in readiness. I didn’t dare turn my back or take my eyes off her. I stood very still. I let go of my fight-or-flight defense and decided to play dead. If you run from a bear, it gives chase. That’s the nature of the beast. Likewise a snake. If I moved, she might strike.
I held her gaze. In that flicker of a moment, I could see her catch herself. Some kind of barrier had come down and I’d seen an aspect of her I wasn’t meant to see, a flash of fury that she’d covered up again. It was like watching someone in the throes of a seizure-for three seconds she was gone and then back again. I didn’t want her to realize the extent to which she’d revealed herself. I moved on, as though nothing had occurred. I said, “Oh. Before I forget, I wanted to ask if the furnace is working okay.”
Her focus cleared. “What?”
“Gus had a problem with the furnace last year. As cold as it’s been, I wanted to make sure you were warm enough. You haven’t had a problem?”
“It’s fine.”
“Well, if it starts acting up, feel free to give a yell. Henry has the name of the heating company that worked on it.”
“Thank you. Of course.”
“I better scoot. I haven’t had dinner yet and it’s getting late.”
I moved toward the door and I could feel her following at my heels. I glanced back and smiled. “I’ll pop over in the morning on my way to work.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. I gave a casual wave and let myself out the front door. As I trotted down the porch steps, I sensed her standing at the door behind me, watching through the glass. I resisted the urge to check. I took a left on the walk and the minute I was out of her sights, I allowed myself one of those shudders that shakes you from head to toe. I unlocked my apartment and spent a few minutes turning on all the lights to dispel the shadows in the room.
In the morning before I took off for work, I made a second trip next door, determined to talk to Gus. I thought it was odd that I’d found him asleep so early in the evening, but maybe that’s what old men did. I’d played and replayed Solana’s reaction to my question about Gus’s mental state. I hadn’t imagined the flash of paranoia, but I didn’t know where it came from or what it meant. In the meantime, I’d told Melanie I’d check on him and I wasn’t going to let the woman scare me away. I knew she didn’t start work until midafternoon, and I was just as happy at the notion of avoiding her.
I climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door. There was no immediate response so I cupped my hands against the glass and peered inside. There were no lamps turned on in the living room, but it looked like the kitchen light was on. I rapped on the glass and waited, but there was no sign of anyone. I’d borrowed the key Gus had given Henry, but I didn’t think I should take the liberty of letting myself in.
I went around to the back door with its glass upper section. A note had been taped to the inside:
Meals on Wheels Volunteer. Door is unlocked. Please let yourself in.
Mr. Vronsky is hard of hearing and may not respond to your knock.
I tried the knob and sure enough, the door was unlocked. I opened it wide enough to stick my head in. “Mr. Vronsky?”
I glanced at the kitchen counters and the stove top. There was no sign he’d eaten breakfast. I could see a box of dry cereal set out beside a bowl and a spoon. No dishes in the sink. “Mr. Vronsky? Are you here?”
I heard a muffled thumping in the hallway.
“Hell and damnation! Would you quit all that hollering? I’m doing the best I can.”
Within seconds, the querulous Gus Vronsky appeared in the doorway, holding on to a walker for support as he shuffled into the room. He was still in his robe, bent nearly double by his osteoporosis, which left him staring at the floor.
“I hope I didn’t wake you. I wasn’t sure you heard me.”
He tilted his head and peered up at me sideways. His hearing aids were in place, but the left one was askew. “With all the racket you made? I went to the front door, but there was nobody on the porch. I thought it was a prank. Kids making trouble. We used to do that when I was young. Knock on the door and run. I was on my way back to bed when I heard the ruckus in here. What in tarnation do you want?”