Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) (17 page)

“Hi Auntie,” I say immediately hopeful.

“Sorry Ms. Swift, it’s me Lucille. She threw the phone in
the trash. We’ll do what we can to get it across to her about your baby but
don’t expect too much. I’m afraid it’s too late.”

“I understand Lucille. I just wish there was something I
could do…”

“Maybe there is.” Lucille begins. “Studies show that the
more family is around the sick member, the more opportunities there are for her
to be grounded in reality. If you could visit… or…maybe you. Well, it’s not my
place to-”

“To what?” I ask. “What are you trying to tell me? That I
should be taking care of her, is that it?”

“Well it can’t hurt. You could still have our help
whenever you needed it. Having you around on a daily basis may just stimulate
her memories and just maybe your daughter can grow up knowing the woman who
helped raise her mom.”

Holy fuck! The idea of me taking care of my aunt…wow!
That’s…well that’s crazy. I don’t have… actually I do have the time now. Seeing
how I’m gonna be off work for a while now I guess there’s a remote chance that
could work. But I’m not moving down to LA. She’d have to be willing to move
here. And that would mean new caregivers. I seriously doubt this would be a
good idea. I’m sure when my aunt said I should become a better person she
didn’t mean for me to be taking care of her.

“Dammit!”

The old me would have not even dreamed of doing this. But
how can I become a better person when I refuse a golden opportunity to change
my life and that of the one person left in this world that I love? I don’t have
a choice here. I either am all talk or I walk the walk as they say and move my
aunt up here to live with me. God knows I can afford it. I guess I better get
my ass in gear. I gotta get ready for a baby and an aunt that acts like a baby.
This should be interesting.

It takes a week and a half to organize everything for my
aunt to come live with me. I had to fill her prescriptions, change doctors, and
give her caregivers a kind of severance pay for the sudden loss of employment.
They were all very supportive, if a little skeptical, but they seemed to agree
that this was probably the best thing for my aunt. They promised to be
available by phone if I had any questions during what would probably be a
difficult adjustment period for my aunt. Nobody likes change and people with
Alzheimer’s seem to like it less than the rest of us. I had thought my giving
her a ten day notice would be enough to wrap her brain around it but she was still
completely confused when I picked her up on moving day.

We arrive at my house late Monday evening. It’s been a
long and trying trip. What should have taken six hours ended up taking nearly twelve?
I very nearly didn’t get her out of Mac Donald’s when we stopped there for
lunch. She ate slowly and methodically and then did not want to get back in the
car. She wanted to stay there for dinner as well. Later a short potty break
turned into an hour ordeal when I couldn’t get her to come out of the gas
station bathroom. It was a single stall restroom but in retrospect, I should
have insisted going in there with her. I had a hell of a time convincing the
station attendant to force entry. I had to threaten to call the police to come
and help me. After that experience no way was I going to stop for dinner. We
found a KFC place with a drive through but while I was ordering our food she
opens the door and steps out. That was one hell of a wild goose chase that
lasted a good half hour or more. The next six hours of the trip pretty much was
as crazy as the first six. No matter how many precautions I took she seemed to
know how to get around them. What a fucking insidious disease Alzheimer’s is.
When we finally roll into my driveway we are both bushed and she is nearly asleep
on her feet. I leave all her stuff in the trailer I had rented and just put my
aunt to bed. That’s the only part of the ordeal the went smoothly. I just said
here’s where you get to sleep tonight. I’ll be in the room down the hall. I
turned back the covers for her and she climbed in clothes and all. I could have
insisted she get dressed for bed but I was so grateful she went peacefully no
way was I going to jeopardize that. It’s nearly one in the morning when I
finally lay my head on my pillow. Here’s hoping she sleeps in tomorrow.

The sound of breaking glass coming from the kitchen acts
as my new alarm system. It tells me my aunt is no longer asleep in her bedroom.
I jump out of bed, not bothering to cover myself up and go running down the
hall in my bra and panties. I charge in just in time to see my aunt, also in
her night clothes, throwing a plate on the floor which is already littered with
broken crockery. I must have been sleeping like the dead to sleep through this.
She looks up as I enter the kitchen, but I can tell she doesn’t recognize me.
She holds up yet another plate in the air threatening to throw it.

“Who the hell are you?” She shrieks.

Yesterday she got it in her head that I was some
representative from a nursing home near where she used to live. She was sure I
was here to cart her off. After an intense screaming match she finally settled
down, but she didn’t break anything. Now she’s scrutinizing the plate in her
hand.

“Where are the flowers? I had flowers on my plates! Who
took the damn flowers off my plates?”

I take a deep breath before answering her. “Auntie, those
are my plates. Yours have flowers on them but mine do not.”

She regards me now like you would a venomous viper had
you run across one while belly crawling in tall grass. Any sudden moves on my
part is gonna get a plate chucked in my direction I’m pretty sure.

“You’re a damn liar, that’s what you are!”

“Auntie, I’m sorry you feel that way but I thin-”

“Shut your damn mouth!” She shouts, interrupting me. “And
you are you anyway and what are you doing in my house?”

“Auntie, this is my house remember? You live with me
now.”

“I do not!” She protests.

“You moved in with me four days ago Auntie.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Look around you Auntie. This is not your home.”

“Where’s Lucille? I want to talk to her.”

“Great idea. Let’s give her a call.” I reply. Maybe
Lucille can get through to her.

“No…I want to talk to her. Here, face to face. What have
you done with Lucille?” She rants. “Why isn’t she here?”

“I’m taking care of you now. Lucille was getting too old
and needed to retire. Pretty soon she’ll need someone to care for her.”

“That’s preposterous! Why would she need someone to take
care of her? You tell her to come back and take care of me.”

“I’m sorry Auntie, but I’ll take care of you. You did
such a good job taking care of me when my parents died I just wanted to return
the favor. You should have family caring for you, not strangers.”

“Lucille’s not a stranger. You’re the stranger here.”

Oh my god. I really should have thought this one through.
I had no idea how awful this disease could be. I just thought she would be
confused and things, not…not abusive. This is really horrible. At least when I
wasn’t her caregiver I could just keep the fond memories of her in my mind and
remember her that way. Now I’m gonna end up remembering her this way;
argumentative and downright mean. This is not the way I want to remember her. I
really need to just focus on her needs and making her comfortable. That is the
least I can do for the woman who became a second mother to me.

A sudden crash jolts me back out of my dark thoughts.
She’s thrown another one of my plates on the floor. At this rate we’re going to
have to start using paper ones. So far she hasn’t moved on to my glasses so
that’s a step in the right direction. Maybe I should have read up on dealing
with people with Alzheimer’s disease. That’ll the first thing on my to do list
if I can get a moment’s peace. I glance at my watch it’s nearly three in the
morning. I decide to just start picking stuff up and maybe it’ll sink in what
she’s doing. Plus I don’t want her to cut herself on any of these shards.

After a few more minutes of pacing around and muttering
to herself she finally leaves the kitchen. I follow her discretely down the
hall. Fortunately she goes into her bedroom and crawls under the covers. I
breathe a huge sigh of relief and return to my clean up job in the kitchen.
Finally my emotions come rushing at me like a freight train. Like it or not, my
poor aunt seems lost to me forever. A half hour later I finally sit down at the
kitchen counter and pour myself a much needed glass of wine. My aunt has never
been a late sleeper and according to Lucille when we talked last, my aunt still
rises early. That means I’m probably in for maybe three hours of sleep before
she wakes me with who knows what. With dark thoughts filling my head and heart
I polish off my glass of wine and crawl into bed praying morning won’t come
before the sun does. My last thought as I drift off is that I should not have
just drunk that glass of wine. I keep doing this and I’m going to hurt my
child. Tomorrow I’m going to remove anything that has alcohol in it and I swear
I won’t drink a drop until I give birth.

I wake the next morning to the sounds of rustling around
in my room. My aunt is standing at the end of my bed holding one of the broken
plates from last night. I guess she dug it out of the trash. I don’t think she
broke anymore this morning.

“Morgan,” she says to me. “What happened here?” She asks,
indicating the plate in her hands. “I found dozens of pieces in the trash too.”

“Oh yeah, I was just going to rotate my dishes and I
dropped a whole box of plates last night. Did I wake you up?”

“Oh no honey. I slept right through the night.”

I wanna say, like hell you did, but the expression on her
face melts my heart. I can tell she doesn’t believe my story. I’m thinking she
may remember more about last night than she lets on. I take a deep breath and
let it out, along with some of my anxiety about having moved her in with me.
Yeah it was a horrible night, but it’s over. Auntie is back and everything is
fine; for now.

“How about I fix us some breakfast?” I ask her
cheerfully.

She actually smiles and it just warms my heart. Maybe I
am doing the right thing here after all.

“Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll be ready by the
time you come back to the kitchen.”

“Okay honey.”

She walks out and I throw on a robe and go to the kitchen
to fix breakfast. From what I remember, my Auntie still likes scrambled eggs
and crispy bacon. I’m just setting our plates on the table when she comes back
into the dining room. I set a tall glass of orange juice in front of her plate
and coffee for me. Looks like it’s going to be a pleasant morning after all.

When the pounding first begins it sounds like someone’s
trying to break down my front door. Both I and my aunt jump three feet,
dropping out forks mid motion of stuffing our faces. Who the hell is at the
front door? I go into the kitchen and grab the longest butcher knife I can find
and hold it behind my back as I pass my Auntie.