The tears came again. I took a deep breath and stopped my chest from quivering.
'I love you, Mom.'
For the first time ever, she didn't respond with 'I love you too.'
The nurse put her hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle push.
I took one more look at my mother, and walked out of her room.
Chapter 4
Mom lived in Dade City, a pleasant town that seemed out of place in Florida. Rather than tourist-crammed beaches and mega theme parks, Dade boasted gently rolling hills, actual woods, and so many antique malls you couldn't spit without hitting one.
The night had arrived, hot and thick like a soggy blanket, but I kept the windows down. The rental had decent air-conditioning, but I didn't feel I deserved it.
I'd been to her place twice before, and always missed the turn onto her street. Tonight was no exception. I pressed through three lefts and found it on the second pass.
Her condo had a matching numbered space in the parking lot. Overnight bag slung over my shoulder, her keys in my hand, I was just about to enter the lobby when I stopped, mid-step.
Was I doing the right thing?
A quick image of Mom facedown in the bathtub spurred me on.
The Highlands were retirement condos, regardless of what the brochures promised. No one under fifty-five lived here. A full-time staff kept the pool clean, ran errands for the tenants, and tended the prerequisite eighteen-hole golf course. They also had EMT training, a necessity since the elderly often acted, well, elderly. But even though they were available twenty-four hours a day, they didn't routinely check on their residents.
I took the elevator to the fifth floor, and found a painfully thin old man in a bright Hawaiian shirt crouched before my mother's open door, fiddling with a screwdriver.
'Hello?'
He peered at me through thick glasses; first the upper half, then tilting his head up so he could squint through the bifocals. The man had a bald head so speckled with age spots it was a dead ringer for a sparrow's egg.
'Mmm? Oh, hello.'
The man stood, with much creaking of bones. Fully erect, he wasn't much taller than when he'd been squatting; his back curved like a question mark. He smiled, flashing bright white dentures, and offered his hand.
'You must be Jacqueline. Sal Griffin. I'm a friend of your mother's.'
I forced down my smile. Mom often told me stories of her trysts with Mr. Griffin, and usually described him as 'insatiable,' 'unrelenting,' and 'He's a machine; his pelvis is spring-loaded.' I'd always pictured him as a distinguished, Sean Connery type. Instead, standing before me was a bald Don Knotts.
'Nice to meet you, Mr. Griffin.'
'The police made a bit of a mess.' He motioned to the door. 'I'm putting in a new jamb.'
'Don't they have people here that can fix it?'
'Sure. But I wanted to make sure it was done right. Excuse me, where are my manners? Let me take that for you.'
Mr. Griffin reached for my carry-on. I thought about protesting, fearful he might hurt himself lifting it, but then let him play the gentleman. He led me into the condo, flipping on lights as he walked.
The place was clean, tidy, well-kept. I resisted the immediate urge to check the fridge and the cupboards to make sure Mom was eating right.
'I spoke with your mother a little while ago. She mentioned you might be coming.'
He set my bag down on the dining room table.
'How long ago? I've tried to call a few times since leaving the hospital, but she has a Do Not Disturb on the line.'
'Oh, about five minutes. She called me. I've never heard her so upset before.'
'We had a . . . disagreement.'
He frowned, nodding.
'Proud woman, your mother. When I had the police break in, earlier today, her first words to me were to get the hell out of her bathroom, because she didn't want me to see her like that.'
I smirked. 'That sounds like Mom.'
'I'm sorry she was there for so long. I just got back into town this morning. If I'd have even considered . . .'
'Thank you for coming to her rescue, Mr. Griffin. I'm the one who should be feeling guilty. She's fallen before.'
'I know. Eight or nine times. I installed the safety bar in her shower.'
I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice. 'Eight or nine? She told me four.'
'I'm not surprised. You'd have just . . .'
