So Long, Chester Wheeler(11)

There were no pictures on the walls. I had never seen a home with no pictures on the walls. Not only were there no framed memento photographs of family, there was not even generic art, like a cheesy oil painting of a wave crashing on a big rock or a Labrador retriever holding a duck in its mouth.

It did have a fair number of potted plants, but they were droopy, sickly looking things.

It gave the eerie impression that the person who lived there didn’t love anyone or anything.

Speaking of the person who lived there, Chester was nowhere to be seen.

“He can’t really wheel himself from place to place much in his wheelchair,” Ellie said, and it brought me back into the moment. It reminded me that I was following her around, ostensibly learning. “He just doesn’t really have the arm strength or the cardio for it these days. So you’ll have to wheel him places.”

We had just moved into the kitchen, a drab room with ancient white appliances that were clearly decades older than yours truly. We stopped in front of a counter that was home to a sea of brown prescription medicine bottles. And I do mean a sea.

“I saw him wheel himself into the house,” I said.

She looked mildly perplexed.

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think. It was the day I lost my job. So more than two weeks now.”

“He must’ve been highly motivated,” she said. “Needless to say, the situation worsens by the day. Now. Getting back to the meds. You have to keep track of his meds. He can’t, and probably wouldn’t if he could. Other than calling 9-1-1 in an emergency and putting him back in his wheelchair when he falls out, that’s probably the most important thing.”

She indicated the medications with a sweep of her hand, a signal that we would continue talking about them. I didn’t let her get far.

“Wait. He falls out of his wheelchair?”

“Oh, yes. Regularly. He tries to do things he knows he shouldn’t do, like move himself onto the toilet.”

My head literally swam. It made the room twist in an uncomfortable way, and sickened my stomach for one uneasy wave.

I was going to have to help Chester with his toilet routines. I should have thought of that. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

Meanwhile she was back to talking about medication.

“I’ve made a written list, and it’s right here by the pill bottles. You have to check it against what you’ve given him, and it can be a little complicated and confusing, especially at first. But it’s important to get it right. You hand him the pills and a glass of apple juice. He doesn’t like to take pills with water. He doesn’t like water, period. He wants apple juice. And you stand right there until he’s swallowed every last one. If you walk away and leave him on the honor system, he’ll ditch them in the potted plants.”

I looked around, and the obvious question came into my head.

“Where is Chester?”

“He closed himself into the bedroom.”

“He didn’t lock himself in, did he?”

“No, we took the locks off the doors so he can’t.”

“So he knows I’m the new hire.”

“Oh, yes. He knows.”

“He couldn’t have been too happy about that. He can’t stand me.”

“No offense, Lewis, but don’t think you’re so special. My father can’t stand anybody. He barely tolerates me. Now, over on the fridge here I’ve put all the phone numbers. You know. The doctors and all.”

I followed her over there to look. There were a lot of doctors.

“What about hospice?” I asked. “Won’t they come out now and then so he won’t be alone if I have to go somewhere?”

“Oh, you can go out if it’s only an hour or so. Just make sure he has your cell phone number. There’ll come a time when we’ll need hospice even to go to the store, but it’s not quite here yet.” Having reminded herself about time, she glanced at the huge round elementary-school-style clock on the kitchen wall, and frowned. “I have to go. I have to get to the airport. But I wrote it all out for you. You can read it and then call me with questions.”

“You need a ride to the airport?”

“No, I have a rental car. But thanks.”

She hurried off toward one of the bedrooms, presumably to get her bags. I was left with a dizzying sense of panic and dread. I had wanted to drive her to the airport as a way of getting out of that horrible place. Now I would have to stay in the den of darkness.

“Wait,” I said, and she stopped. “What about treatments?”

“Cancer treatments?”

“Right. Doesn’t somebody have to take him in for chemo and radiation and . . .”

“No. He’s refusing all further treatment.”

“Oh. Really? That seems . . .”

“It wouldn’t have bought him very much time anyway.”

Upon saying that, she disappeared into the guest bedroom.

I waited for her for several minutes. When she didn’t come back after a time, I wandered over to the only closed bedroom door. I stood in front of it, breathing purposefully, for what felt like a long time.

Then I rapped softly. Very softly.

Chester’s gravelly voice came back at me immediately. It was not soft.