A Family Affair(30)

Blanche was all dressed up, though she was sitting in her comfy chair with her feet up.

“Well, hello,” Anna said. “You’re looking very nice today.”

“We had entertainment today,” Blanche said. “It was good—some school choir acting out some scenes from a musical. I can’t remember which one. But an hour of dangling my feet and my ankles are as big as my butt.”

Anna laughed but she thought, with a surge of relief, Oh good, she’s lucid!

“What are you doing here?” Blanche asked. “You get fired?”

“No,” Anna said with a laugh. “No, I had an interesting afternoon with a young woman and her baby. What are the chances you remember Chad today?”

“Your husband?” Blanche asked. “I’ve been trying to forget. He can’t be in trouble again, being dead and all.”

“Wow, you’re really on your game today. Do you remember that affair he had when Michael was a baby?”

“Anna, the world remembers. You wouldn’t let us forget. You chirped on that for years.”

“Well, so did you,” she said, but inside she was so thrilled to have her mother to talk to. “It turns out there was a child from that affair and I met her. She’s Michael’s age and she’s married and has a baby. She told me the whole story, what she knew from her mother. Amy didn’t know Chad while she was growing up but apparently he did help out with the cost of her education and I suppose other things. I believe he has remembered her in his will, though we haven’t gotten around to that yet.”

“I thought he was a phony,” Blanche said. “Putting on airs like he was some big shot.”

“I thought you liked him,” Anna said. “You counseled me to stay with him. You said if a husband’s affair is the worst thing you go through...”

“I did? Well, at least he has a job.”

Anna frowned. “Would you like me to tell you all about it?”

“About what?”

“The young woman,” she said. “His daughter.”

“By all means. And could you get me a water?”

“Certainly,” Anna said. She fetched a glass of water for Blanche and then launched into the story, starting with seeing her at the celebration of life, then seeing her in the park. “She must have been in the area of my office deliberately.” She described Amy and her husband and baby, told her a few of the things she learned, though she tried to keep it brief and simple. Blanche nodded a lot and muttered, “Uh-huh.”

“And so now I suppose I’ll have to tell the kids,” Anna said.

“Yes, I guess,” Blanche said.

“You must be feeling very well today,” Anna said. “You’re sharp as a tack.”

“As usual,” she said. “It’s nice talking to you.”

“And it’s wonderful to talk to you.”

“Good! By the way, where is your house?”

Anna felt her stomach clench. “Mill Valley,” she said. And she bit her lower lip.

“That’s right, now I remember. Listen, if you see my daughter around there, tell her to come by, will you please?”

For a moment Anna was stricken. She couldn’t speak. She took a deep breath. “I can do that,” she replied, tears in her eyes.

“And that other one,” Blanche said. “The boy. He must be grown by now. I really didn’t mean to never see him again but that’s how things work out sometimes. I thought we’d find each other.”

“What boy?” Anna asked.

“You know,” she said. “First I had the boy. I couldn’t keep him. But when the girl came along I wasn’t about to give another one away.”

“What was the girl’s name?” Anna asked, on the edge of her seat. “Do you remember her name?”

Blanche struggled. “It’ll come to me, gimme a minute. I’m so tired right now.”

“Try to remember. Do you know who I am?”

Blanche smiled and her old face looked so soft and sweet. “Of course. You’re the best nurse here and you’re my nurse. I think I should lay down. I need a little help.”

“Sure,” Anna said, helping her mother stand and then pivot to sit down on her bed. When Blanche laid down, Anna lifted her legs onto the bed. Within seconds, Blanche was snoring and Anna knew all conversation was over for the day.

There were three stages of assisted living and three stages of rehab care, in most cases terminal care. For assisted living there were apartments with galley kitchens, mostly couples occupied them, then efficiency units that had sitting areas and bedrooms, then bedrooms that opened into a nursing round. Then rooms in the nursing home division where residents ate their meals together in a dining room. Then memory care for residents with dementia—that wing required more staff. Then the hospice unit. Those rooms were filled with sick and memory-challenged residents who would not be going home.

Blanche was still in an assisted living room with full-time nursing supervision and full meal service. Blanche was on a waiting list for memory care. Nothing much would change for Blanche except the geography. But these memory lapses were becoming more and more frequent.

Anna sought out the senior nurse, Rebecca, as she had many times before. She described their conversation. “I have heard Blanche speak of the boy. I assumed she was speaking of her grandson.”