The Smoke Behind the Veil

“Carson, your grandfather escaped this morning!” my mother’s voice is shaking with panic when I answer the phone.

“Escaped seems a bit dramatic don’t you think?” I say playfully. “I mean, seriously, it’s a nursing home not a maximum-security prison.”

 “I am not being dramatic. I have no idea how he managed to get out of there alone…” her thought trails off for a minute before she screeches into the phone: “Carson, did you help him escape?”

“First off, it was far too easy to be considered an escape.” I can hear her grinding her teeth on the other end of the line. “And secondly, he was miserable in there. I can’t believe you locked him up in that place to begin with.”

“He is sick you idiot! You are not prepared to take care of him. You can barely take care of yourself! Did you even think to take his medications with you?” her voice steadily rising in pitch as she scolds me.

“Look mom, he is ok.” I try to calm her down. “I’ve been visiting him every week and he is as healthy as I’ve ever seen him. So what if he is a bit forgetful, aren’t we all?”

“Stop being foolish!” she screams through the phone. “You need to take him back this instant before you put the both of you in serious danger!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. “We’re going to be ok. He is safe here with me - don’t worry about it.” I hang up before she can say another word.

I head back outside where Gramps is sitting on the porch watching the sun dip behind the mountains, a deep burnt orange light floods the sky above us.

“Who was that?” he gestures to my phone as I sit down next to him.

“Mom…she’s worried about you,” I say while searching the cooler between us for another soda. “Don’t worry about it, she’ll calm down in a few days.”

He looks at me for a moment, unable to find the words for what he wants to say and just turns back to watch the sunset. We spent the latter part of today getting him set up in the guest room that used to be my studio. I couldn’t bear to see him cooped up in that place anymore and finally decided it was time to bring him home with me. We’ll probably have to make a trip out to pick up the personal items from his room, but for now we’ll just enjoy his newly acquired freedom.

As the final light from the sun fades over the ridgeline, I get up, pat Gramps on the back, and head to bed. I would love to spend the night hanging with him, but I have to open the store tomorrow and need as much sleep as I can get. Besides, we have all the time in the world now that he’s moved in. 

I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep but the incessant beeping from the smoke detector in the kitchen finally registers and I sit up. My eyes strain to adjust to the dark but the ominous smell of smoke fills the room, alerting all of my senses in an instant. I scramble out of bed and turn on the overhead light. A heavy layer of smoke lingers in the air as I watch tendrils of black smoke crawling into my room from under the door. Quickly I snatch my phone off the charger and I grab a tee-shirt out of the laundry bin to cover my mouth and nose. I use the back of my hand to check the door for signs of heat and cautiously touch the knob, thankful to find it’s still cool to the touch.

Out in the hallway, black smoke emits from the kitchen. The entire stove and surrounding cabinets are engulfed in a wall of flames. The size and spread of the fire make it painstakingly clear that this is something I can’t fight; I have to get Gramps out of here and get to safety. Cutting through the living room I make it to his door and sprint inside, closing the door behind me. He doesn’t stir when I first enter the room and yell his name. Fear begins to set in before I notice his hearing aids sitting on the bedside table. I bend over his bed and shake him awake.

“What…” he tries to yell out but falls silent as he notices the smoke flooding his room. He rushes to his feet and grabs his hearing aids as I toss him a pair of slippers and his handkerchief. Once he is ready, I open the door and look out into the living room. The fire has spread over the entire west side of the house. Grasping his arm firmly I lead him over to the sliding glass door on the other end of the room and we walk out onto the porch. The smell of pines and fresh air fills my lungs just before I begin to cough uncontrollably. We make our way to the front of the house and start walking up the driveway. Fumbling for my phone I begin to dial 9-1-1 as the flashing lights of the firetruck light up the night.

“Sir, is there anyone else inside?” one of the firefighters approaches me as his team prepares to combat the fire. I shake my head and watch him head back towards the house.

Medics emerge in the wake of the fire engine. I let go of my grandfather as they begin to exam him and place an oxygen mask over his soot-covered face. Knowing he’s in good hands, I turn to face the house and assess the damage. The heat from the fire bathes my face even from this distance as I see the entire house is up in flames. I watch the firefighters work tirelessly to combat the fire when a gentle voice draws me away from the wreckage.

“Your grandfather is going to be ok,” a young paramedic comes up from behind me. “However, we need to examine you as well, please come with me.”

She leads me to the top of the driveway where two ambulances sit waiting for us. I catch sight of my grandfather sitting in the back of the first, attached to an oxygen mask while a paramedic is taking his pulse. Sensing my eyes on him, he looks up and flashes me a thumbs up. A part of me can’t help wonder if he was the reason for the fire. The paramedic I’ve been following sits me down in the back of her rig and fits me with a matching oxygen mask. It feels impossible that it’s only been a few hours since mom called about Gramps. The last words she said to me ring in my ears, “…before you put the both of you in serious danger”. Did she know something like this would happen? Is there more to his condition than I realized?

The sound of Velcro tearing apart draws my attention back to the paramedic as she places a blood pressure cuff around my arm. I look down at the ID attached to a lanyard on her uniform and see her name just below the smiling headshot, “Jenny”. While she puts on her stethoscope, I continue to watch the firefighters as they work to put out the fire.

“I don’t see any obvious burns or cuts on you,” Jenny says with a weak smile when she finishes taking my vitals. “We’re just going to have to take you two in for monitoring after all that smoke you inhaled.”

I nod silently. Doors slam closed ahead of us just before I hear the ambulance carrying Gramps take off down the dirt road. Jenny closes the doors to our ambulance when the engine comes back to life. With a gentle lurch forward, we make our way out of my driveway and feel the tires bounce on the uneven ground beneath us. The blazing remains of my home steadily falling out of sight as we make our way onto the main road.

The next few hours fly by in a blur of doctors and other ER staff checking and rechecking my vitals while I am attached to oxygen. Finally, the doctors seem satisfied with the results of all their tests and release me. As for Gramps, they have decided to keep him overnight for observation just to be safe. After signing my discharge paperwork, I make my way to the lobby and turn my phone on. I’m not surprised to find a ton of missed calls and voicemails from mom. I decide to listen to the last one to come in, it's timestamped just a few hours before I arrived at the hospital.

“Carson! Stop ignoring my calls,” the cold measured anger is her voice sends chills through my entire body. “I am driving down tomorrow morning. If you aren’t going to take him back then I will. Call me back when you get this.”

I will have to call her back before the night is over, but I just can’t face it right now. Gramps and I haven’t even had a full day together and something catastrophic already happened. I know I won’t be able to hear the end of it from her. Instead, I head to the nurse’s station to find out what room Gramps is in.

He is asleep when I enter his room and find a small chair at the foot of his bed to sit down in. Watching him sleep I can’t help think of the way he stepped in and filled the hole that was left in my life when my father died. For the last twenty-five years he’s been the one I went to for advice, my confidant and guide when I was too embarrassed to ask mom. Every major milestone in my life includes him: he never missed a soccer game, drove me to the movies for my first date, and was the loudest in the crowd when I crossed the stage at my high school graduation.

Without Gramps I don’t know where I would be. He was the one that gave me my first job after I got out of rehab ten years ago. He had faith in me, even after I ran off mom and the rest of the family. He drove me to Narcotics Anonymous meetings every day for that first year and was willing to hire me on at his store. Without him I would never have been able to get clean and start fresh. When he decided to retire, he left me the store and cosigned the loan for my house. Everything I have now is thanks to his guidance, love, and support. This I why when I saw him rotting in that nursing home, I knew it was my turn to care for him. Bringing him to live with me was the smallest act I could take to show him thanks for saving me all those years ago. Drifting off to a restless sleep I decide I’ll call mom in the morning and fight like hell to keep him out of the home, just like I promised I would.

A knock on the door wakes me up. I look up to find Jason, the nurse that’s been looking after Gramps all night, enter the room.

“Sorry to wake ya. But there’s someone outside that wants to ask some questions about the fire,” he says in a deep drawling voice.

I leave him to examine Gramps and walk out of the room. Outside I recognize the firefighter that asked me if there was anyone else in the house when they arrived on the scene.

“Hello, I’m Captain Kelly, head of the fire investigation unit. Are you the owner of the house?”

“Yes. Did you guys find out how the fire started?” I ask, praying for answers. 

“We were able to determine the cause of the fire,” he says as he hands me a series of pictures. “It looks like this pan was left on the stove unattended and its contents started the fire. Were you cooking tonight?”

“No, we ate out tonight,” I respond in a weak voice.

“Is it possible your grandfather cooked something after you went to bed?”

I begin to shake my head but stop short. I can’t account for anything Gramps did after I left him on the porch. As if reading the doubt in my face, Captain Kelly presses on.

“If I were you, I’d consider looking into alternative care for your grandfather,” he says with pity in his eyes. “Accidents like these can be common with people his age and the consequences could be worse next time.”

I can’t even look at him as the significance of his news washes over me. Seeing that I am not going to engage further he hands me his card and leaves. I know there wasn’t a pan on the stove when I went to bed. The only way it got there was Gramps.

Standing outside his room, memories from today surface again as if I’m watching a grainy video. Laughing with Gramps at the restaurant when he lost his way back to our table. The way he kept misplacing his glasses, even though he was just wearing them. I have to wonder if maybe I've misjudged his forgetfulness. Mom never shared much about why she put Gramps in the nursing home, all she ever said was that he was sick, never anything more specific than that.

When I walk into the room, I find that a short woman is standing by his bed.

“Mr. Fields?” she asks as she turns to face me.

“Yes, are you one of my grandfather’s doctors?”

“No, sorry. I’m Dr. Stone from neurology. Your grandfathers’ case was flagged for my review. Can we talk outside?

Unable to figure out what in my grandfather’s case could possibly require a neurologist I decide to follow her out into the hallway.

“Your grandfather was brought to my attention because he seemed to be in a state of confusion about why he was here,” Dr. Stone says in a solemn voice.

“I’d think that would be normal for someone that just survived a fire, isn’t it,” I ask patiently.

“Yes, some confusion is normal for someone that has survived a traumatic experience. However, the staff was concerned because he couldn’t even remember being in the fire. He even had trouble recalling his own name when he first got here.”

“So, they called you in to assess him because they think he’s crazy?”

“Crazy isn’t my specialty Mr. Fields," she says as she fixes me with a cold look.

“Then what is?” I snap back irritably.

“Dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease. I reached out to a few of the contacts at various assisted living facilities around here and discovered that your grandfather ran away from Regency Village this morning.”

“I took him out of there this morning, I thought he would do better living with me than rotting in a nursing home.”

“I can understand that,” she says sympathetically. “It’s hard to see our loved ones fading in an assisted living community when you feel you can still help. However, are you aware your grandfather was diagnosed with Dementia three years ago?”

The news grounds me to the spot, is this the secret mom has been keeping from me about Gramps. His mysterious sickness is Dementia. All those moments where he just seemed extra forgetful seem to come into view as if the veil that blocked the corners of my vision is finally removed. All of mom’s warnings about his health and my inability to care for him finally make sense.

“Are you going to send him back?” my question comes out as if being asked by a child.

“Not today. We would like to keep him here for a few days for observation first. But yes, I do recommend you take him back to Regency Village once he’s discharged. You got lucky that no lasting damage was done to either of you this time, but are you willing to take that risk again?” She lets her question hang between us before excusing herself to check on other patients.

I walk into the room and make way over to Gramps who watches my procession to his bed, a smile fixed on his face as I move my chair next to him.

“What was that about?” he asks feebly.

“Nothing, just the usual doctor stuff,” I lie as I reach out and grab his hand.

“She trying to convince you I need to go back to the home?”

“Nah, just making sure I have what I need to look after you,” my voice cracks in response.

“Don’t take me back there Carson, I hate that place,” tears run down his face as he says this.

“I know Gramps,” I feel my eyes welling up. “Let’s focus on getting you better, we can handle the rest later.”

I sit at my grandfather’s side for a few hours waiting for him to fall back to sleep. Once he is in a deep sleep, I exit the room. I know I can’t put it off any longer. I need to call mom and tell her what happened - maybe she can make sense of all of this. The only thing I know for certain at this point is that I cannot care for him, I will have to take him back. I walk out to the parking lot, pull out my phone, and dial her number. I just have time to wonder if he will ever forgive my betrayal when the call connects.

“Carson?” the concern is heavy in her voice when she answers.

“Hey, mom…we need to talk about Gramps.”