Aliena (last July)
"Look who was sent fresh flowers again!" I say enthusiastically as I step into the room of my favorite resident, 85-year-old Rosie Henderson.
The old lady perks up in her chair and beams at me, stretching out her hands for the lovely bouquet I bought. I hand it to her, and she takes a deep whiff and sighs. "My lovely son. You know, he's so busy he can never visit but he never fails to send me these once a month," she tells me like she does every month.
Maybe it's wrong of me to lie to her but in the five years of working here, I learned to take some liberties when it comes to bringing these lovely seniors some joy. After a year of Rosie's arrival, during which I always had to disappoint her whenever she asked if her son called about a visit, I started buying her flowers and told her they were from him. That was six months ago, and her mental presence has been looking up ever since.
"That's very nice of him. They're beautiful," I tell her as I move on to tidy her room. It's very spacious, only the best for the residents since the price sure demands as much.
When I was told the yearly fee for a residency at Bloomfield Living Care costs, I nearly choked on my tongue. Let's just say, sixteen-year-old me never heard of such expenses.
The room's equipped with a desk usually decorated with my flowers, a nice bed with some bedside drawers, a tv, and a closet. Adjoint with the bedroom is a small bathroom. In my opinion, the best part of this room is the window looking out into the big yard of the nursing home. A few people are out, playing cards or checkers at one of the tables in the shade to enjoy the July weather. I open the window for Rosie.
"Thank you, dear. Oh, while you're back there, could you please hand me the glass of water from my bedside table?" she asks. I comply in a beat, smiling as I give her the glass only to feel something inside me twist at the sight of the woman's shaky hands.
It's nothing new and almost none of the residents here have a steady hand anymore. Still, it's hard not to notice the little things when I know Rosie probably won't make it into the next year. Cancer doesn't spread quickly at that age but it's vicious, nonetheless.
A soft knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Rosie looks at me expectantly and I smile at her, trying to hide my confusion and surprise. In all her time here, she's never had a visitor. What if her son suddenly decided to show up? I just hope he won't expose my little flower scam.
I open the door and come face to face with a young man that's certainly not Rosie's son. He looks around my age and fits right in with the classy, expensive interior of the nursing home with his white button-down and his clean-shaven face.
Damn, he's handsome. So much so that, for a second, I forget my manners and just stare at those sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. Finally, I shake myself and speak with a burning face. "Hello, Sir. How can I help you?" I ask him.
"Hi, I'm Sebastian Henderson. I'm here to visit my grandmother," he tells me with a polite smile. I can feel my brows rise but step out of the way, knowing that he wouldn't be here unless the receptionist checked his identity.
"Rosie, won't you look at that? Your grandson came around for a visit," I tell her, taking the glass of water away again.
The woman beams wider than ever before. "My Sebastian! Oh, today is full of surprises. First, your father sends me flowers, and now this," she gets up from her chair with some struggle and throws her arms around the young man.
He hugs her back but his eyes lock on mine and he mouths, "Flowers?" I just shake my head. Maybe I'll explain it later, maybe he won't care enough to ask in private but I certainly won't risk Rosie overhearing my confession.
When they end their embrace, Sebastian helps her sit back down on the cushioned chair. "I'm sorry I didn't visit sooner, grandma. I didn't know you were transferred and couldn't find you," he excuses and while I don't understand what he means by that, Rosie just nods and pats his cheek affectionately.
"Don't you worry about it, boy. I am happy you are here now. Besides, Aliena here kept me perfectly good company. Isn't that so, my dear? I even taught her to play Cribbage. Between the two of us, she isn't that great at it yet. No match for you," she tries to whisper the last part but I am very much able to make the words out.
Her grandson's eyes flick to mine and he gives me a big smile quite similar to Rosie's. "Give her some time. Chinese poker is no easy feat and I had years to learn from the master," he tells her. Again, something twists in my stomach at the reminder that she won't have enough time to teach me well at all.
I wonder how much he knows about her condition. If he hasn't seen her in one and a half years, he's way out of the loop. I'll have to pull him to the side and give him all the news before he leaves.
I scan the room one more time before piping up, "Okay, I think my job is done here. I'll give you two some privacy. Mr. Henderson, why don't you ask for me at the reception on your way out? Until then, enjoy your visit. I'll see you at dinnertime, Rosie."
I start heading to the door but gentle, long fingers wrap around my wrist and I turn back around. "By all means, I don't want to be the reason you miss your Cribbage lessons. Stay, please. I can watch and maybe throw in a tip or two. Oh, and call me Sebastian," he says. He looks sincere in his offer and since Rosie is nodding enthusiastically and our time together is my favorite time of the day, I agree.
"Okay, sure. Let's all witness another ice-cold defeat of mine. Your grandma is ruthless," I tell the young man. He tips his head back and laughs, the sound like honey to a sore throat. Meanwhile, Rosie watches us with a new glint in her eyes.
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Ngl, I wish I had a wingwoman like Rosie...
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