Generations

A warm air hits me in the face as the electronic glass doors open and the melody of an old children’s song that I’m too young to know announces my arrival. Folded wheelchairs lean against the wall of the lobby and there’s a rack with informational booklets for family members of Alzheimer’s patients. I’ve read them all.

“Good morning sir, can I help you?’’ the receptionist asks. She is new and has the stern smile of someone whose job it is to be condescendingly friendly without taking any shit from derailed elderly people. 

“I’m here for the birthday boy.” 

She looks down at her clipboard and lets her finger slide over the names and dates. An unnecessary formality. None of her colleagues still bother, since everyone is welcome, but I guess it’s all part of being new at the job. 

“Ah, Mr. Peters...’’

“It’s Tom, or rather Tommy.’’

She looks up at me and frowns. 

“Well, Tommy, he’s in the canteen with all the other residents. Just follow me.” 

Her steps echo through the hallway. There are colorful paintings on the wall, and lounge corners with unfinished board games spread out on the tables. 

“Your father…”

“Grandfather,” I correct her.

“Your grandfather is celebrating his birthday party with all the other residents. We do that for all of our residents to give them a sense of normality. It brings them back to the memories they recognize from childhood.’’

I just nod. Everything is about normality and recognizability here. 

“They always seem to enjoy it.”

The cantine looks as it always does, mostly empty. There’s one table in the center with some elderly people around it, all staring at a cake with one burning candle on it. They wear festive, colorful hats that look horribly out of place above their hollow eyes, like they just grew out of their heads one day. Magda, the regular caretaker is singing Happy Birthday while enthusiastically clapping her hands to the rhythm of the song.

“Look, Mr. Peter, it’s your uh...’ The receptionist looks back at me.  

‘Grandson,” I finish the sentence. 

Magda stops clapping midsong and turns to me.

“Ahh, would you look at that, Mr. Peters, Tommy has arrived. A very special guest on your very special day.”

She winks at me as a broad grin appears around his lips.

When I’m next to him he holds my wrist. 

“Hi grandpa, how’re you hanging?’’

He ignores my question.

“Everyone, this is Tommy, my one and only grandson.’’ 

A smile appears around the lips of an elderly lady. 

“Ah, so sweet. He looks like such a nice boy.” 

He just keeps the proud grin on his face while he’s still holding my wrist.

“Well, Tommy, you are just in time for blowing out the candles,’’ Magda says. 

He lets me do the honors and I manage to do it in one puff. Everyone at the table applauds at Magda’s cue. 

When everybody has finished their cake, he pulls me closer to him. 

“Let’s go outside,” he whispers in my ear.

“I think all of these people are a bit…” He taps his forehead.

I nod and try to find Magda’s eyes. When she catches mine she just nods.

“Okay everybody, I think the birthday boy now wants to spend some time with his grandson. Everybody say goodbye to Tommy.”

They all wave at me. Some with more disinterest than the others.

“I’ll get his wheelchair.’’

There’s a nice autumn sun outside. He’s looking around. The whole place is full of trees and there’s a pond surrounded by rose bushes. They always put these nursing homes in the most beautiful spots. A way for neglectful family members to repent by paying shitloads of money to surround their parents with a beauty they can no longer appreciate.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t grandpa.’’

He looks back at me, grabs my hand, and strokes my palm with his thumb.

“You are a good boy.”

I look at him while I’m pushing the wheelchair. He wears his trucker hat and plaid coat. There’s a blanket in his lap.

“Are you having a nice birthday so far?’’

He just shakes his head. I know he’s waiting to get to the pond. Feeding the ducks is a memory we both share, even though there’s no bread involved anymore since they found out it makes the ducks sick. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m just glad you came.”

When we sit down next to the pond he sniffs the air and smiles. I can see his shoulders relax. There are yellow and orange leaves floating in the water. Some algae waving by the shore. 

“And how’s school”

“School is great, grandpa.”

I smile at him. 

“What were you studying again? I can’t remember.”

“I study…”

I pause for a second.

“I study philosophy.” 

“Well, well, well, look at the brains on this one. Philosophy… I didn’t know anyone in our family would ever be that smart.”

I laugh.

“Good genetics I guess.”

For a moment I see a frown appear in his clear blue eyes like he’s trying to remember something.

“And what about love? Did you already find a nice girlfriend?”

I think he slightly remembers Jen, who used to come along with me. She stopped coming along about a year ago. She couldn’t stand being reminded of the memories that never came to be. I can’t blame her. He was never very accepting of her anyway and the more his state deteriorated, the more hateful he got towards her.

“No girlfriend grandpa. Still single.”

He puts his hand on my knee and squeezes.

“That’s okay. You should stay alone for as long as you can. At least you respect your family, unlike your father who let us rot for that woman while your grandmother was dying.”

I see the anger in his eyes, as every time when this topic comes up, which is always.

“I’m sure dad had his reasons, grandpa.’’

He voraciously shakes his head. 

“Some people are just born selfish. They can’t help themselves.”

He looks at me and his expression softens.

“But at least he gave me one good thing. It was the happiest day of my life when he called to tell me that that woman was pregnant with a boy.”

I hug him and press a kiss on his cheek. He shivers. 

“It’s getting cold. Maybe it’s time to go back.”

As we walk on the pathway towards the home, I see a tear in his eye. 

“Are you crying, grandpa? You know that I will come back next week, right?”

He shakes his head and reaches for my hand. He squeezes it tightly. 

“I know, I know, I’m just happy that you came.”

The receptionist throws me a knowing smile as we enter the lobby. She now understands. It’s okay. During the moments I get to see him, I’m happy to play the son I never got to witness growing up, so he can spend time with the grandson he never got to meet.