“
I like it. I
really
like it. Not a stripe or a dot anywhere in sight.” Farris flashed Bee a quick grin, waited until the girl buckled her seat belt, then tromped the gas. Dirt spewed up behind the back tires.
“
But I
like
stripes and polka dots,” Beelah lamented.
“
They're fine, just don't wear them
together.”
Farris kept an eye on what appeared to be a growing storm front moving in as she drove.
“
I know, I knoooow, Farris. Hey, do you think that could get ugly?” Bee gestured out the windshield toward the heavy bank of clouds.
“
I was just wondering the same thing.”
“
The Rocket will have updates or something, I'm sure.”
Oklahoma was prone to viscous tornadoes, and although the prime time of year had already passed, it wasn't all that unusual to see one rip through this late in fall.
“
Probably.” Farris took a left at the next stop sign. Ahead, down the long stretch of road, they could see the buildings of downtown Newcastle in the near distance. Three and a half miles to go. Farris had driven this particular route so many times she could have done it with her eyes closed.
The Rocket was a popular, local hangout built to look like a bullet train. Silver, with black accents and smoked glass doors, it drew a crowd ranging in age from sixteen to twenty.
Farris had gotten into a fight with Larissa Miller the last time she'd set foot in the hangout. Larissa, self proclaimed 'model', daughter of a prominent doctor, had a real attitude problem. She and Farris clashed like oil and water whenever they were around each other.
From the depths of her purse, her phone played
You Are My Sunshine
, indicating the call was from O'ma's nursing home.
“
Bee, grab that for me.”
“
Got it!” Bee filched the phone out of the purse and answered in the middle of the second ring. “Hello, you've reached Farris Landry's phone.”
Farris slowed for the next stop sign. She glanced across the truck at Beelah's face. The girl started to frown.
“
What is it?” Farris asked.
“
Oh, okay, Missus Brown. I'll tell her right away.” Beelah hung up the phone and clutched it against her chest. She turned wide eyes on Farris. “That was the--”
“
I know who it was! What did they say?” A cold knot of fear started to writhe around Farris' stomach. O'ma was pushing eighty years of age. She hoped nothing had happened to her.
“
Um. We need to go to the home right away. Missus Brown said O'ma's really upset and wants to see you.”
“
Did she say what she's upset about? I mean, is she hurt? Did she fall? What?” Farris sped away from the intersection toward town. The nursing home wasn't far from the Rocket, so Farris didn't have to change direction until they were closer.
“
She didn't say, Farris. She just said to come right away.” Beelah put the phone back in Farris' purse.
With dread spreading through her belly, Farris prayed it wasn't bad news.
. . .
Newcastle, with a population of less than eight thousand, wasn't a difficult town to navigate. There were only a few main roads with offshoots leading to smaller businesses and homes. Plainsview Nursing home sat at the far end of the main street, Newcastle Avenue, where the building had room to sprawl. One story, with a flagstone facade, it had a peaked roof over sliding double doors and a cheery
Welcome!
sign that greeted its visitors.
Farris trotted through the parking lot with Beelah at her side. They wove through parked vehicles, waited for a car to cruise past, and slowed their pace to a brisk walk once they swept inside.
There was always a certain smell associated with the nursing home that Farris disliked. Something old, as if the age of the geriatric occupants seeped into the walls and the floor and stayed there, never to be removed. Even with the overlying scent of bleach and other cleansers, the 'old' smell lingered.
“
Ugh,” Beelah whispered. Bee didn't like the smell, either.
“
I know. Shh.” Farris hushed her friend and marched up to the information desk. Shaped in a U, it sported gray speckled formica counter tops and thin gold trim. Situated in the center of the recreation area, it reminded Farris of a command post.
Around the room, people sat in wheel chairs, pushed walkers, or played board games at tables. Usually, Farris and Beelah would spend an hour or two engaging the occupants in play; today, Farris was on a mission.
Darlene, the elderly woman behind the desk, glanced up as the girls arrived. She was a sweet lady with pink tinted hair, glasses with an attached chain, and a sharp gaze that defied her age.
“
Oh dear, Farris. I'm so glad you're here. Hello, Beelah.” Darlene gestured to one of the rooms at the back set aside for more games, television, arts and crafts and other activities. “She's in there.”
“
Hi, Miss Darlene.” Beelah smiled, then glanced at Farris.
“
Thanks.” Farris didn't waste any more time. She circled the desk and headed back toward the room Darlene gestured to. Beelah hurried to keep up.
The arts and crafts room was a haven for creativity. The occupants could paint, draw, do bead work, knit or any other number of activities geared to stimulate their minds and keep their hands nimble. Rows of bins lined the walls and several tables were clustered in the middle for people to sit around.
Farris saw Ada Landry immediately. She was the only woman in the room, first off, and second, her grandmother was trying to push up out of her wheelchair.
“
O'ma!” Farris and Beelah called out at the same time. The old woman with white hair, too many wrinkles and a hunched back wobbled in surprise. Ada appeared birdlike, with frail bone structure and shaky hands.
Farris circumvented the tables and rushed to her side. She helped her grandmother sit back down. “You know you're not supposed to try and get up. What's wrong, O'ma? They called me.”
Beelah set her organizer down and tucked the old woman's knitted sweater more comfortably around her shoulders. A fretful maneuver that bespoke of fond affection. Beelah had known her grandmother forever.
“
Farris? Oh child, is that you?” Ada peered through her round framed spectacles at Farris. She patted Beelah's hand.
Farris crouched in front of the wheelchair, flicking the end of her sheer green scarf around her neck. The wind had tried to unwind it on the way in.
“
It's me. O'ma, what's wrong? I'm worried.” Farris glanced at Beelah, who returned a pat to Ada's hand. Gentle, caring.
Ada did what Farris called 'chewing' before she spoke. A peculiar motion of her jaw that reminded Farris of eating, except Ada didn't have any food in her mouth. It was just a tic of old age.
“
What's the date, dear?” Ada asked in an agitated voice, sitting forward a few inches in her wheelchair.
Beelah made big, round eyes behind Ada's head at Farris. Like,
should I restrain her?
Farris shook her head. A subtle gesture that wouldn't distract her grandmother.
“
It's October twenty-eighth, O'ma.”
Ada sat back with an abrupt lurch. One wrinkled hand fluttered in the air. “Oh my, oh
my heavens.
Three days until your birthday, child. You can't leave the house that day, do you hear me, Farris? You must stay indoors, stay locked up tight.”
Beelah and Farris exchanged confused glances.
“
Why, O'ma? Beelah and I are supposed to go out to celebrate.”
“
No!” Ada stamped her foot against the wheelchair and scowled.
Farris recoiled. Beelah stared in shock. Neither one had ever heard Ada Landry raise her voice above a soft coo.
“
I don't understand, grandma. Why don't you want me to go out on my birthday?” Farris tried to make heads or tails of the woman's angst. Ada forgot things on a regular basis, usually to do with recent events, rather than ones further back in history. As far as Farris knew, she wasn't prone to extreme paranoia or fits of hysteria.
Ada leaned forward again, making a point to stare at each of Farris' eyes. “I knew I was supposed to remember. Long before now. But my mind, Farris. My mind didn't
want
to remember, and now it's almost your birthday.”
“
Remember
what,
O'ma?” Farris asked.
“
The lady. From the park. Do you remember her, dear?”
Farris scoured her memory. She'd been to the park hundreds of times growing up. There had been many women she'd spoken to, mothers or aunts of the other little girls. Sometimes grandmothers.
“
I don't know which lady you mean.”
“
The one who spoke to you when you were six. Did your mother ever tell you about it?” Ada asked, an insistent tone in her voice. A paranoid tone, too.
Farris wondered if her grandmother was succumbing to dementia or something like it. “I don't remember any lady when I was six, and I don't know if mother ever told me or not.”
Nothing specific stood out.
“
She had a very strange name.” Ada wrinkled her brow in thought. “Mer—something. Merwen! That's it. Her name was Merwen and she told you that you were special. That you should write your stories and save them all.”
Farris hadn't started her first story until she was eight.
Beelah looked puzzled and concerned.
“
Maybe she was just being nice, O'ma.” Farris still wasn't convinced anything was truly wrong. The more she heard, the more she thought her grandmother was starting to slip away mentally. It made her sad, made her tired.
“
No, child, listen to me!” Ada insisted. “Your mother overheard her. Didn't think anything of it until Merwen said that you would die on your eighteenth birthday, but that she'd be back for you and it would all be okay. See? You have to stay home, Farris. Stay home on your birthday.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Farris saw Beelah twitch with shock.
The news didn't shock her, however. All it did was cement the idea that her beloved grandmother was slipping away. Farris decided the best thing to do to ease Ada's mind was tell her what she wanted to hear. It felt like a grown up decision, one more thing distancing her from a life that had been far from usual or normal.
“
Okay, O'ma. I won't go anywhere. Don't worry, all right? I'll be home safe and sound all day.” Farris patted her grandmother's hand. Ada peered at her like she suspected Farris was giving in too easy.
Finally, she sat back in her chair, looking older than her years. “Thank you, child. Now then, did you bring your O'ma some pie?”
. . .
“
What do you think it is?” Farris asked.
The head nurse stood off to the side with both girls, arms full of charts. She had a sorrowful expression, whether or not she meant to.
“
Farris—I think it's just her age. Last week she panicked because she misplaced her favorite pair of slippers. Before that, it was her reading glasses. We've all noticed little things the past few month or so, and this seems to fall in line with the rest.”
Farris, with Beelah at her side, listened intently to Nurse Hanson. It was as much as she expected. She nodded. “I thought it might be that. I'll make sure to call her on my birthday to help keep her calm.”
“
That's an excellent idea. It'll be tricky if she panics, because she won't want you to come outside and drive here. I'll tell the other nurses, okay?” Nurse Hanson smiled and touched Farris' elbow.
“
Thanks, Nurse Hanson. If anything changes, call me.” Farris and the nurse exchanged a final smile before the girls headed for the doors.
“
That was a little creepy. I'm sorry Farris. I know it's hard for you,” Beelah said. She smacked the red button on the wall near the doors to get them to open. A safety precaution so the elderly didn't just wander out on their own.
Farris jammed her hands into the pocket of her coat, eyes on the ground.
“
It
is
hard. I mean, what am I supposed to do for her? It's only going to get worse from here.”
“
I don't think there is anything you
can
do but keep on visiting and calling. That means a lot to her. Hey, why don't I come over on Halloween instead of us going out? We can watch scary movies or something.” Beelah, with her Hello Kitty organizer tucked into the crook of her arm, nudged Farris.
A sharp, blustery wind met them head on when they got outside. Farris glanced at the sky. The gloomy cloud bank had covered the sun, turning the day gray. She smelled rain and ozone on the air. A storm was definitely brewing.
Beelah's offer made her smile despite everything else. Farris was grateful for her best friend. “Thanks, Bee. I know it'll stink having to stay inside on Halloween, but if it makes O'ma feel better, then I will.”
“
Who's going to be at the Rocket anyway? Just the same crowd. Larissa, her little clingy friends, the same guys who always ignore us. We won't really be missing anything. Speaking of the Rocket, you still want to go?” Beelah sounded cautiously hopeful.
“
Sure, yeah. It's closer, too. We won't make it home before this storm unleashes,” Farris predicted.