small nod. "I don't have to." She paused to drink me in and then nodded. "I bet you don't have to ask them, either."
I laughed. Mrs. Greene left the side of the other resident and moved directly behind us.
"What are you going to read me? Are you going to read me Sleeping Beauty? I like Sleeping Beauty," Grandma Belinda said emphatically.
"If you'd like," I said. "Where is it?"
"Don't you have it? Didn't you bring it?" she asked a little frantically.
"No. I'm sorry."
She pouted. I gazed at the pile of children's books on the small table between us and chose one. "Would you like me to read this?"
She glanced at the cover and then nodded slightly. I looked about the room. The other residents were back to doing their own things for the most part. Only one or two continued to gaze our way. I started to read, putting as much drama into it as I would if I were reading to a five- or six-year-old child. She relaxed and turned back to me to listen. I noticed Mrs. Greene move around the room, in front of us, to the side, and then behind us again, circling, spending some time with others, but always keeping within earshot. It didn't take long to read the children's story, and when I finished Grandma Belinda clapped.
"Isn't that a nice story?" she said. "I love stories with happy endings. Olivia says there are no happy endings, only endings."
"Has she been to see you?"
"She's too busy to see me. She's in high society now. She has rich people to entertain. Her nose is up here," she said tilting her head back like someone who had a nosebleed and pointing to her forehead. "I'm an embarrassment to her. That's what she says. She sounds like the big bad wolf when she says it," Grandma Belinda said, lowering her voice to make it gruff. "You're an embarrassment. Stay in your room."
She stared at me a long moment and then she smiled impishly again.
"But even if I'm in my room, they come to see me. They knock on the window. And . . . sometimes, I open the window and let him in."
"Who?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," she sang and laughed. I had to laugh, too. She was obviously confusing time, mixing in events that had occurred years and years ago with events that had occurred more recently.
"Don't you know anything about me?" I asked hopefully. "I'm Haille's daughter, Melody. You know who Haille is, don't you?"
She stopped smiling.
"Can't talk about her or she'll have them heave me out on the Street," she muttered.
"Is that what Olivia said?" I asked.
"Can't talk about her," she said and pretended she was zipping her lips shut.
"You can talk to me," I said. "I'm Haille's daughter. I'm your granddaughter."
She stared, her eyes blinking rapidly. Then she turned away and gazed out the window.
"Look how blue the sky is," she said. "I wish I could reach up and touch it. I bet it's soft."
Mrs. Greene was practically on top of us.
"Would you like to go for a walk? It's beautiful today," I said. Mrs. Greene's eyes widened. I looked up at her. "Can I take her for a walk?"
"Well, does she want to go out?"
"Would you like to go out, Grandma?"
"Yes," she said firmly, not even noticing I had called her Grandma. I got up to help her, but she didn't really need any assistance. She rose quickly, turned her head as if everyone were watching her every move, and started out.
"Just stay in the garden and walk on the pathway," Mrs. Greene said. "There are attendants if you need any help."
"She seems fine," I said. "You were right. She's being well taken care of," I added, but Mrs. Greene didn't smile at the compliment. She watched us with the eyes of a hawk as we left the room.
I took Grandma Belinda's arm into mine and started down the corridor to the door that led out to the gardens. She was spry, energetic. She wore a flowery scent that smelled refreshing.
"I like your perfume," I said.
"Do you? Nelson gave it to me."
"Nelson? He was here recently?"
"Just the day before yesterday or the day before that. He brings me a bottle of perfume whenever he comes and we sit and
I laughed. Mrs. Greene left the side of the other resident and moved directly behind us.
"What are you going to read me? Are you going to read me Sleeping Beauty? I like Sleeping Beauty," Grandma Belinda said emphatically.
"If you'd like," I said. "Where is it?"
"Don't you have it? Didn't you bring it?" she asked a little frantically.
"No. I'm sorry."
She pouted. I gazed at the pile of children's books on the small table between us and chose one. "Would you like me to read this?"
She glanced at the cover and then nodded slightly. I looked about the room. The other residents were back to doing their own things for the most part. Only one or two continued to gaze our way. I started to read, putting as much drama into it as I would if I were reading to a five- or six-year-old child. She relaxed and turned back to me to listen. I noticed Mrs. Greene move around the room, in front of us, to the side, and then behind us again, circling, spending some time with others, but always keeping within earshot. It didn't take long to read the children's story, and when I finished Grandma Belinda clapped.
"Isn't that a nice story?" she said. "I love stories with happy endings. Olivia says there are no happy endings, only endings."
"Has she been to see you?"
"She's too busy to see me. She's in high society now. She has rich people to entertain. Her nose is up here," she said tilting her head back like someone who had a nosebleed and pointing to her forehead. "I'm an embarrassment to her. That's what she says. She sounds like the big bad wolf when she says it," Grandma Belinda said, lowering her voice to make it gruff. "You're an embarrassment. Stay in your room."
She stared at me a long moment and then she smiled impishly again.
"But even if I'm in my room, they come to see me. They knock on the window. And . . . sometimes, I open the window and let him in."
"Who?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," she sang and laughed. I had to laugh, too. She was obviously confusing time, mixing in events that had occurred years and years ago with events that had occurred more recently.
"Don't you know anything about me?" I asked hopefully. "I'm Haille's daughter, Melody. You know who Haille is, don't you?"
She stopped smiling.
"Can't talk about her or she'll have them heave me out on the Street," she muttered.
"Is that what Olivia said?" I asked.
"Can't talk about her," she said and pretended she was zipping her lips shut.
"You can talk to me," I said. "I'm Haille's daughter. I'm your granddaughter."
She stared, her eyes blinking rapidly. Then she turned away and gazed out the window.
"Look how blue the sky is," she said. "I wish I could reach up and touch it. I bet it's soft."
Mrs. Greene was practically on top of us.
"Would you like to go for a walk? It's beautiful today," I said. Mrs. Greene's eyes widened. I looked up at her. "Can I take her for a walk?"
"Well, does she want to go out?"
"Would you like to go out, Grandma?"
"Yes," she said firmly, not even noticing I had called her Grandma. I got up to help her, but she didn't really need any assistance. She rose quickly, turned her head as if everyone were watching her every move, and started out.
"Just stay in the garden and walk on the pathway," Mrs. Greene said. "There are attendants if you need any help."
"She seems fine," I said. "You were right. She's being well taken care of," I added, but Mrs. Greene didn't smile at the compliment. She watched us with the eyes of a hawk as we left the room.
I took Grandma Belinda's arm into mine and started down the corridor to the door that led out to the gardens. She was spry, energetic. She wore a flowery scent that smelled refreshing.
"I like your perfume," I said.
"Do you? Nelson gave it to me."
"Nelson? He was here recently?"
"Just the day before yesterday or the day before that. He brings me a bottle of perfume whenever he comes and we sit and
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