Ree in the Future

The humidity in the air drew out the smell of pee and death from the carpet in the hallway, and Ree had had enough. She’d been syphoning off small bills from the purses of her daughter, granddaughter, and even her great-granddaughter’s best friend when they turned their backs during their bi-weekly visits and, to date, there was $98 stashed away in the breast pocket of her blue suit dress. She chose it because, if she happened to die before she got the chance to spend it, it’d go to the grave with her. (She’d earned it, after all, hadn’t she?)

Dwayne was gone and this place stunk and she was as bound as a hellhound to get out.

She stuffed the cash in her panties (which she always wore over her ‘drip catcher,’ as she called the adult diapers, because she couldn’t forget how her aged Mama had lost all dignity and ran down Main Street in nothing but a soggy drip catcher hanging down to her knees and a pair of socks, one wrapped snuggly over each boob, and Ree wasn’t going to let senility steal her last shred of humanity so, by God, she’d die wearing matching lace panties and a bra).

She eased out the door. In the hallway, she saw Mrs. Kempton holding down the floor again with her wheelchair and blank stare. That was precisely what Ree had hoped for.

“Let’s get you to Bingo,” said Ree sweetly.

“Ah-wah-wahh-mah,” mumbled the stroke victim, which could only mean Lord knows what, so Ree ignored her and proceeded to push the woman down the hall with a somber look so as to not give away her plan.

They passed the nurses’ station where the beady-eyed Nurse Gabby watched her with suspicion. Had Nurse Gabby somehow figured out her plan? It was impossible to assume, but Ree didn’t think the woman had any more knowledge of what she was planning than the cook new how to boil a pot of water.

A group of elderly people had amassed in the dining hall, a sea of sweatpants, white hair, and walkers. Ree aimed Mrs. Kempton’s wheelchair at an unoccupied corner and gave it a good shove. The woman’s feet barely touched the wall before she rebounded and flew backwards into a dining table.

Now, Arlene knew Ree’s plan, and she sat there with a smirk on her face, unable to control herself. “I wish I could come with you,” she whispered into her friend’s ear. “But you know I’d never make it on the outside.”

They both knew it—too many meds, slipping a little in the mind, and a catheter because of the constant bladder infections.

Ree squeezed her hand. “Me too, and I’ll think of you every day.”

Into Ree’s palm Arlene pressed a wadded-up scarf. “Sell these—they were Bob’s mother’s.”

Ree glanced around and then unfolded a corner of the scarf. In it rested two gold earrings with dangly diamonds and a ring with a clear rock as large as her own swollen knuckles.

“Lands, I can’t do that,” she gasped as she pushed the package towards her friend.

“You’re not gonna make it very far on $98. What are you gonna do—sell yourself?”

“Anything’s better than this place.”

Sensing Ree’s reluctance, Arlene wrapped her friend’s fingers around the scarf. “I didn’t like the woman anyway, and besides, I don’t want my boys’ kids to end up with those. Just give ‘em more drug money.”

Ree nodded and snuck the goodies into her right bra cup. They squeezed hands again and Ree kissed Arlene’s cheek.

The activities director entered the room, dragging a cart loaded with Bingo accoutrements behind his bulging posterior.

“Ok, everybody, sit down!” he hollered.

Everybody was, of course, already sitting, but his inferiority complex required him to push around those less powerful than himself. Ree couldn’t see how she’d be able to leave her friend here, but Arlene just rolled her eyes, gave a chuckle, and grinned.

“Get on, you,” she said. “Exit’s out the back.”

The activities director was busy handing out the Bingo cards and explaining the rules of the game to Charlotte, who showed up every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 10:00am to play the game, but who’d never played it before her dementia struck so she could never store the instructions in her long-term memory.

“Just put the token on the number I call, ok? It’s not that hard!”

Ree gave one last glance around and then bolted (as quickly as an old lady with arthritic knees could). It was smoke break time for the kitchen staff, which meant sitting in their cars, smoking joints, and for those few, precious minutes, the kitchen loading/unloading door was wide open and, more importantly, unguarded.

She’d been sure to lace up her Reeboks that morning. And beneath her sweatpants suit (which she loathed, but it was what her daughter had bought her for Christmas anyway) she wore a pair of tight black leggings and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt she swiped from her great-granddaughter’s backpack last week.

Stepping onto the pavement brought with it a sense of breaking the rules and liberating herself, almost like burning her bra had back in the 60’s. She could’ve cut around to the parking lot, but she’d more likely be spotted than not and hauled back inside and put on anti-anxiety meds, so she chose to scale the back fence. A pallet was leaned up against it and she climbed it like a ladder, careful to keep her footing and balance. Last thing she needed was to wake up back in the nursing home sporting a goose egg as large as Nurse Gabby’s cleavage.

The descent down the backside of the fence was not graceful, but she managed to plant two feet on the damp grass without breaking a wrist or shattering either of her hips, so she’d call that a win.

Now, she was in an alleyway, and though she’d planned this out thoroughly, she had a momentary lapse of memory. Pulling out a map from her left bra cup, she said, “Ah-ha,” and scampered north. Before she reached the end of the alley, she ditched her sweatsuit in a trash bin.

The elder care facility was in a residential area—but it was just three blocks from the bus stop. Nonchalantly, but quickly, she hustled down the sidewalk. As a car drove past, she tucked her face into a rosebush, pretending to admire it (but really hiding her face, just in case it was some nosy body who might suspect she’d escaped). Soon, the car rounded the corner and disappeared.

Within ten minutes of stepping foot out that kitchen back door, Ree found herself enjoying a stroll beside Highway 64. It was busier and louder than she’d expected it to be, and the wind drag that each passing car sent in her direction began to make her feel slightly shaky.

“You are not turning around,” she sternly warned herself. “Put on your big girl pants and walk your skinny butt to the bus stop.”

So, she did.

On the bench at the stop sat a younger man—just how old, she didn’t know. (Everybody was younger than her, but they were fatter now than they used to be and their rounded faces betrayed their ages more with each passing decade). She didn’t want to look nervous or helpless, so she eased down in the seat beside him, leaned back, and spread out her arms across the back of the bench as though enjoying some invisible sunshine (which she would’ve preferred to this overcast, sticky simmering pot).

To him, she said, “You do any bowling?”

The man glanced at her, eyed her over the rims of his sunglasses, shook his head. Then, he returned to his phone.

Just as well, she thought. I haven’t bowled in ages.

A woman joined them on the bench and, out of the corner of her eye, Ree thought it looked like a receptionist from the nursing home. However, giving her a second glance, she sighed relief.

“Oo-wee,” said Ree to the woman. “I sure like them nails.”

The woman grinned and fanned her fingers in front of her chest. “Tina at Naturally Nails did them. I wasn’t sure about the blue sparkles, since the white and red weren’t sparkly, but I went with the blue anyway. You think it looks alright?”

“Glamorous,” observed Ree, taking a closer look.

“Oh, thank you,” the woman gushed. “I hope my boyfriend likes them. We’re going to the lake for the Fourth. You got plans?”

“Sure,” said Ree with a confident nod. Run as far away from here as I can manage.

“I just love fireworks. They’re literally my favorite. I’d take the Fourth of July over Christmas any day. What about you?”

“You know, I think I would. Hot dogs. Beer. Swimming in the creek. But just wait ’til you have kids, then you’ll change your mind. Nothing compares to seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning.”

The woman almost blushed and put five semi-sparkly fingernails over her stomach. “I haven’t told my boyfriend yet, but I’m pregnant.”

Ree grinned. “Well, I’ll be. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I just took the test this morning after he left for work, so he don’t know. I hope I think of some clever way to tell him when I get off work tonight. Maybe I’ll buy balloons or something at the dollar store. But I don’t think the baby will be here by Christmas, not if I’m only a month along or so.”

“Well, you’ll have plenty of Christmases to enjoy that little bundle, but be warned: the days are long but the years are short, and babies don’t keep.”

“Don’t keep what?”

“I mean they don’t stay babies. They grow up. Then they’re a mess and ungrateful and, when you get real old, they’ll throw you in a nursing home.”

“Well, I’m still young.”

Ree reckoned the bus would be along soon, but each passing minute made her a little more anxious. She got chatty when she felt nervous.

“So, where do you work, young lady?”

“At The Breeze. It’s a tanning salon. See, we have to keep our nails and hair done.” She tousled a lock of dark, blonde-streaked hair.  

“Tina do that too?”

“No, Candy at Salon Styles did it. I usually go to Riley, but she’s on vacation and I was tired of that purple ombre look so I saw Candy this time. I’m sure glad I had it done last week because I heard you aren’t allowed to dye your hair while you’re pregnant, so now that’s done and it’s my natural color, except for the highlights, but it should last. And I could always use hair chalk if I get tired of it. At least, I think I could. I haven’t heard that’s bad for babies or nothing.”

Sitting there was pleasant for Ree, but she had a sudden twinge of something. Regret? Pain? Sentimentality?

No, it was homesickness. Not for the nursing home, of course, but for Arlene. They’d only met two years earlier, right after Arlene’s husband died and her kids decided she needed ‘extra help,’ that is, they didn’t have time for her. But it felt like Ree had known her for a lifetime. Yes, they were eleven years apart in age, and when Ree was twenty, that would’ve seemed like an eternity, but what did that matter now? Her soulmate understood her perfectly. Highlights and nails? They never chatted about those two things. But raising kids and receiving photos of great grandkids and losing husbands—that was something they knew something about.

The twinge of missing her best friend hit her again.

Don’t lose your nerve, she warned herself, and it came out sounding like her mother’s voice.

“Yes, you’re going to marry Dwayne Henry. He’s a good man with a good job. And he already owns a house. You’ll never find another man who’ll give you that kind of life. So, get that dress on. The wedding starts in five minutes.”

Her mom had, of course, been right. Ree had just had cold feet. She’d only known Dwayne for two months and it had been her mom who had first suggested they get married. Neither Ree nor Dwayne was ready to settle down, but they’d been attracted enough to one another to entertain the idea.

Ree remembers when she told Arlene that Dwayne didn’t know ‘where to stick it.’

“Well, Bob thought he did,” Arlene said with a straight face, “until I yelped like a puppy who’d just got his tail stepped on. Turns out, he didn’t even know women had three holes down there.”

They had laughed about that until they’d both needed a change of their drip catchers.

“Oh, lands,” Ree said, her face as red as a rooster’s tail feathers. “How did we ever raise those boys up to become the men they were?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you it was harder than raising two sons.”

“Wasn’t it? Could’ve raised ten kids easier than the one husband.”

And the ladies laughed, each remembering all the happy times that had come right alongside the hard.

“You ever tan?” asked the girl with the manicured nails.

Ree looked up, dazed from her thoughts. “What’s that, dear?”

“Here,” she said, reaching into her fanny pack. “This is my card. Don’t it look fancy? All us girls at the tanning salon had them made up. I customized mine and added those cute flowers. You like ’em?”

Ree admired the Hawaiian-looking flowers and simultaneously remembered how her brother had died at Pearl Harbor.

“Very nice,” she remarked.

“You should come on by and I’ll give you a magic tan for free.”

“A magic tan? Is that right?”

Ree had no idea what a magic tan was, but she was sure it would take a load of magic for any tan to find its way into the creases between her wrinkles.

“Here’s the bus. You want some help up the steps?”

“No, thanks,” Ree declined, leaning back. “I’m waiting on my daughter to come pick me up. She’s over at—” she glanced around “—the Piggly Wiggly picking up some groceries.”

The young woman smiled. “Ok, see ya later. Be sure and come by. Oh, and my name’s Allicia with two ‘L’s, like it says on my card.”

“Nice meeting you, Allicia. I’m Ree.”

The woman giggled. “Ree? I’ve never heard that before.”

“Short for Marie. My daddy used to call me it.”

“Ree, huh? I really like that. That’s a cute name. I’ll have to add that to my list of possible baby names.”

The woman pulled out a phone from her fanny pack and began typing away, her fingernails tap-tapping on the glass screen.

“Ok, got it,” Allicia called as she stepped onto the bus. “See ya, Ree.”

The old woman waved and, already, she felt tired. She’d forgotten how much she’d enjoyed those late morning naps. There wasn’t a bed in sight—just that plastic bench with the two humps down its back like a camel.

Don’t give up, she warned. Don’t quit this thing. Freedom’s what you want. Stick to the plan.

Only, with each passing minute, freedom felt more exhausting, and she wasn’t sure it was worth it. Not to a 93-year-old, anyway. Sparkly nails? Blonde streaks in her hair? Tanning her thin, wrinkled skin?

“Screw it all,” she huffed.

She would’ve stood up right then but the three blocks she’d walked to get there had just about worn her hips and knees out, so she paced herself. Another ten minutes wouldn’t hurt. And when about fifteen had passed, she heard someone call her name.

Well, what do you know? It’s Stella.

“Mom?” The lady sounded frantic and she inadvertently drove one tire up onto the curb as she parked in the bus stop lane. “Mom? What in the world are you doing out here? Get in the car.”

Ree pushed, pulled, and heaved herself off the bus stop bench, shuffled to her daughter’s car, and felt older than she’d felt in ages. Which was just as well because she was the oldest at that moment that she’d ever been, but younger than she’d be tomorrow, given she woke up for it.

“What on earth are you doing out here, Mama? How did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“They just let you out for a walk? But I thought the doors were locked.”

Ree scowled. “They are. And you know what? I hate it. I don’t like living in that stinky, smelly, dirty, dark, dingy dungeon no more . . . But take me back there anyway, because Arlene’s there and she means the world to me, and I’d rather die in that smelly place with her by my side than lay on a sunny beach all alone.”

“Is that what you were doing? Running away?”

“I was gonna, but I changed my mind. I wasn’t made for modern day. And besides . . . the days are long but the years are short, and I don’t care to miss another’n with my best friend.”

The anger and frustration in Stella’s face melted away. “At least let’s go have lunch together somewhere first.”

Ree could feel joy rise inside her like a hundred balloons. “Where to?”

“You pick. I’ll take you any place you want.”

Ree thought for a moment. Any place? Of course, all the old places she knew, the ones she and Dwayne used to eat at together, were gone now, turned into upscale hipster joints or some-odd noun like that, her granddaughter had told her.

But what was so good about sticking to the old places? And maybe running away wasn’t best. Maybe she just needed to try something new.

Grinning, Ree turned to her daughter. “You ever heard of a magic tan?”