“Yep, this is Anni,” Andrea said, thinking about how quickly the word had spread. Her first time out and already Anni was famous at the Phoenix Health Care Center. Andrea held a hand out to keep the elevator doors from closing. The attendant said, “Let’s keep going. Just a little more,” but the woman stood locked in place, her mouth agape at the sight of the dog. It seemed rude to leave without saying a little more, so as Andrea stepped into the elevator she said, “We have to go now, but we’ll be back next week.”
TWENTY-THREE
By the next day, Sunday, Dan had forgotten all about Lindsay’s dream, but unfortunately his daughter had not. As she walked into the kitchen, the first thing she said was, “So you didn’t have time yesterday. Do you think you can go today?” He’d been engrossed in reading the news and drinking his coffee. It took him a moment to realize she was speaking about visiting Nadine.
“Good morning to you too,” he said. Technically it was still morning, although it was closer to lunchtime. They’d done a reversal from their usual routine in that he was still in his bathrobe while she’d come downstairs already showered and dressed.
“It’s really important, Dad,” Lindsay said, pulling a chair up to the table. “I had another dream last night. I don’t really remember much, but I think it was the same exact one.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You think you had another dream? Could it be you’re just remembering the dream from the night before?”
“Dad.” She put both elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. “Don’t change the subject. You need to go see Aunt Nadine. I think it’s really important. And I know what you’re going to say—that we don’t even know if she’s there anymore, but she is. I called yesterday and got her room number.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “Mom was very specific about this.”
Dan sighed. This dream thing was getting out of hand. Yesterday afternoon he’d called the grief counselor, who said it wasn’t that unusual and if it was giving Lindsay a sense of connection with her mother, it could even be beneficial, so he shouldn’t be worried about his daughter’s mental health. It was just hard to take directions from Lindsay’s subconscious. He said, “You know I don’t know Nadine very well at all. I only met her a few times.” Nadine had been one of Christine’s projects. His wife had always been drawn to underdogs, to difficult cases. She had the ability to see the good in people. He wasn’t sure when she’d become “Aunt Nadine” to Lindsay. Most likely Nadine had started it when Lindsay was a little girl.
“One hour of your time. No big deal. Please?” When Lindsay gave him the puppy dog eyes, it was hard to say no.
He took a sip of his coffee. “I tell you what. I’ll go if you’ll go with me. We’ll do it together, okay?”
She sat up straight. “I don’t know that I need to be there. In the dream Mom just said for you to visit Nadine.”
He parroted her words right back at her. “It’s just one hour of your time. No big deal.” Her face had a conflicted look, so he added, “Please?” and did his own attempt at puppy dog eyes.
“It’s just,” she said, “that Brandon and I were going to go to the mall today.”
“Okay.” He picked up the newspaper. “Not a good day. I understand. Well, maybe we can go another time.”
“Okay, wait, not so fast.”
He lowered the newspaper, waiting. “Yes?”
“I’ll go with you, but can we leave pretty soon and get it over with? And then afterward, can you drop me off at Brandon’s?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Just let me get in the shower first.”
Forty minutes later, they stopped at the grocery store to get Nadine a box of candy. From there they headed for the Phoenix Health Care Center. And half an hour after that, Dan and Lindsay stood in the elevator as it rose to the third floor. “Are we supposed to tell Nadine about the dream?” he asked Lindsay.
“If you want, I guess.”
“So Mom didn’t say why we have to see her or what we’re supposed to talk about?”
Lindsay stuffed her gloves into her pockets. “You know how most dreams are—really hazy and time jumps around? This one wasn’t like that. In the dream I was in my room listening to music and Mom came in. I took my earbuds out and she said to listen up, that she didn’t have much time and she had a message for Dad.”
“Meaning me.”
“Yeah, well, who else? Anyway,” she continued, “I said okay, and then she said, ‘Tell Dad he needs to visit Nadine. It’s really important that he goes to see her.’”
Dan said, “And then what?”
“I think I told her I’d give you the message, and that was it. I don’t remember any more than that. I woke up and it was like two thirty. I turned on the lamp next to my bed, and I was just going to put it in my phone, but at the last minute I thought I better write it down old school, so I got a pen and ripped out a piece of notebook paper and wrote it down.”
“Hmmm.”
“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” she said. “I know what I experienced was real.” The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. “It felt different than a regular dream.”
“I believe you, Lindsay.” He believed that what she experienced was real enough, at least to her, but he hesitated to believe it was a message from Christine. Why didn’t she come directly to him, if that were the case? Stepping off the elevator, they both stopped to read the sign posted on the opposite wall. “This floor reserved for patients with cognitive impairment,” he read softly to himself. “Please be kind and agreeable.” And below that, instructions for getting into the locked floor: “Visitors, press buzzer for admittance.”
“What do they mean, cognitive impairment? Is that like Alzheimer’s?” Lindsay asked.
“Yes, like Alzheimer’s or dementia.”
“So Aunt Nadine won’t know us anymore?” She looked up at him, dismayed.
“Maybe. Maybe not. There are varying degrees.” He patted her shoulder. “We’ll see.”
Now he was really glad he’d insisted Lindsay come along. Nadine could be outspoken, and not in a good way, to begin with. Who knew how she’d be now.
Dan pressed the button, and a voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”
“We’re here to visit—” The buzzer went off and he grabbed the door handle just in time. They passed the nurses’ station on the way to Nadine’s room, where a lone man squinted at a computer monitor.
When they reached room number 326, Lindsay knocked and stuck her head through the doorway. “Aunt Nadine?”
“Come in.” Dan recognized Nadine’s gravelly voice, the product of years of smoking. Before they had a chance to respond, she repeated, “Come in!” They walked in to find her sitting in an armchair, a remote control in her hand. The TV was on, but there was no sound. A collapsed walker leaned against her bed. She glanced up as they walked in, her mouth set in a grim line. “Well, don’t dillydally, child. Come on in.” She patted the bed, which was neatly made with a chenille bedspread. “The other one is sleeping, so we have to be quiet.” She pointed to a bed on the other side of a partial curtain. A lump underneath the covers moved slowly up and down.
Dan stood nearby, while Lindsay approached Nadine, holding out the candy. “We brought you a gift,” she said. Nadine took the box without comment and put it on the end table next to her.
“I’m Lindsay, Christine’s daughter.”
“Well, of course you are,” she said. “I can see that.”
“My dad is here too.” Lindsay looked miserably up at him with a save-me expression.
Dan extended his hand and Nadine clasped it with her own pale, well-padded hand. She inspected it like the knuckles and joints would give her clues. She’d aged since Dan had last seen her. How long had it been? Maybe two years or so. Then she’d stood almost as tall as he. Nadine
had always been a large, imposing woman, but sitting hunched over, she seemed to have shrunk. He gave her hand a squeeze and then pulled it away, sitting next to Lindsay on the bed. “It’s been too long,” he said. “I should have come to see you before this, but with Christine gone, we’ve been just getting through the days.”
Nadine nodded like she understood, but something in her eyes gave away a lack of awareness. She was entirely too agreeable for Nadine, who used to love a good debate. Playing devil’s advocate had been her hobby.
Now that Dan had begun, Lindsay’s shoulders softened and she jumped in to get Nadine caught up, showing her pictures of Brandon on her phone, and telling her about her job at Walgreens. Nadine made all the right comments. She said Brandon was very handsome and nodded as Lindsay talked about work. But she’d lost her spark, the very thing that had made her Nadine.
Suddenly Nadine sat up straight and indignantly said, “No one ever comes to see me.”
“Well, we did,” Lindsay said. “We’re here.”
“I know, but no one ever comes.”
“That’s too bad,” Dan said. He hoped that Lindsay wouldn’t want to make this a weekly pilgrimage to see Nadine. The place was depressing and he was certain Nadine had no idea who they were. He sat with his hands folded and listened as Lindsay continued telling stories about school and work, most of them things she’d never told him. She told Nadine a story about how she’d noticed a young guy acting suspiciously at work and alerted her manager. He turned out to have about a hundred dollars’ worth of over-the-counter medication stashed underneath his zippered jacket. “So stupid of him,” she said, “because they have cameras everywhere.” At school, she went on to say, they were having a talent show and one of Lindsay’s friends, a girl named Nicole, was going to be singing. She was incredibly shy and had never sung in public before. “But she has this amazing voice. None of us could believe it. I mean, she’s incredible,” Lindsay said. “We’re all hoping she doesn’t chicken out at the last minute. She’s so nervous.”
Lindsay talked on and on, not seeming to need much feedback, which was good because she wasn’t getting any. Nadine made a show of nodding and Dan did what he could to join in, but the visit was measured in minutes lasting hours. When a middle-aged lady wearing a puffy jacket came in to see Nadine’s sleeping roommate, Dan took that as their cue and stood up. “We should probably get going,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Nadine.”
“No one ever comes to see me,” Nadine said, with the same irritated tone she’d used earlier.
“We did, though,” Lindsay said. “And we brought you candy.” She gestured to the box on the table and Nadine regarded it with interest as if seeing it for the first time.
“Oh, thank you.”
“Good-bye, Aunt Nadine. Take care.” Lindsay leaned over to give her a hug, and Dan’s heart surged with pride. All the times he and Christine had prompted Lindsay over the years: say thank you, share your toys, wait your turn, don’t push. Small lessons in compassion and courtesy that they put forth again and again, never knowing if any of it was taking hold in their daughter’s consciousness, and then one day, to see his daughter as a fully formed person who instinctively knew how to comfort someone else? Now that was a revelation of the finest kind.
The older woman patted her back with gentle fingers. Lindsay pulled away and said the words Dan didn’t want her to say. “We’ll come again sometime.” There it was. A promise to return another day. Now that she’d said it, it felt like a commitment.
Dan felt a wave of resignation wash over him. He supposed it wouldn’t kill him to visit again. It would be another good deed on his roster, and, on the plus side, it would be time spent with Lindsay, which was exceedingly rare nowadays and extremely precious, considering she’d be going away to college next fall. What was an hour of their time, really, in the scheme of things? Dan gave in. “We’ll come back to see you another time,” he said, echoing his daughter.
The visitor on the other side of the curtain murmured something to Nadine’s sleeping roommate, trying to rouse her from her sleep. Dan heard the woman’s voice softly encouraging the roommate to get out of bed. “Your sleep schedule is going to get all mixed up.” Next came the metallic pull of curtain rings being yanked along a rod, and with it, light filling the room. Nadine’s head swiveled to look.
This might be a good time to slip away. Dan beckoned to his daughter to join him and took her elbow to guide her toward the door. As they were just about to leave the room, Lindsay glanced back and saw Nadine’s blank look in their direction. Lindsay said reassuringly, “We’ll come back and visit soon.”
And then Nadine said the words that made both of them forget they were leaving. “Maybe Anni will be here then.”
A bewildered look passed between them. “Anni?” Lindsay asked.
“Your dog,” Nadine said. “Your dog, Anni.”
“We don’t have Anni anymore,” Lindsay said, and the sadness in her voice made Dan’s heart break.
“I know.” Nadine’s tone was impatient. “She comes here sometimes.”
Lindsay retraced her steps back to Nadine’s bedside. “Anni? Our dog, Anni, comes here sometimes?”
Nadine’s head bobbed up and down. “She goes on the elevator.”
Lindsay sat down on the bed, tapped the surface of her phone, and then held out the screen to show Nadine. “This is Anni. She comes here sometimes?”
“On the elevator,” Nadine said, only glancing at the phone. “No one ever comes to see me.”
“Who is Anni with when she comes?” Lindsay asked.
“Going down on the elevator.”
“I know. You said that. But was Anni here with someone?”
A distraught look came over Nadine’s face. Lindsay’s questions were getting to be too much for her.
“We should go,” Dan said, tilting his head toward the door. He could tell Lindsay felt she was on to something, but he wasn’t as convinced and he hated to see her get her hopes up. Nadine was confused. Clearly, she was remembering when Christine used to bring Anni to see her. “Good-bye, Nadine. Come on, honey.”
When they got out in the corridor, Lindsay said, “What do you think of that?” Her eyes went wide. “What if Anni’s been here? What if that’s why Mom told us to visit Nadine?” She fairly vibrated with excitement.
“Your mother used to bring Anni here to visit. Nadine is confused.”
“But she said it like it just happened.”
“To her it did, honey. Her memory is impaired.”
“No.” She held up a hand. “I think it’s more than that. It all fits with Mom telling us to come visit.”
“Oh, Lindsay . . .”
“Don’t, Dad. I know you just came to humor me, but have a little faith, would you? Just for one second, could you go along with me on this?” Her eyes flashed with defiance.
“You have to know I have faith in you,” he said.
“That’s random faith. That’s not the same thing,” she said. “Random faith in me is like—go, Lindsay, I’m proud of you and believe you’ll do well on the test. This is different. This is like seeing the bigger picture.”
“Okay, so what do you want from me?”
“Can we ask someone here if they’ve seen Anni?” she asked, putting her hands together like praying.
“Do we have time for that? I thought you had to meet Brandon.” He grinned.
She said, “I’ll just text him to let him know I’ll be late. Not a problem.” Lindsay whipped out her phone. Her fingers flew. “There,” she said, putting it in her pocket. “Done.” She tugged at Dan’s sleeve and towed him down the hall. “We’ll stop at the nurses’ station.”
They passed open doorways and made a wide sweep around an elderly man wearing jeans, a brown fuzzy cardigan, and bedroom slippers. “Excuse us,” Dan said as Lindsay, in a rush, hurried ar
ound him.
When they got to the open counter of the nurses’ station, one lone man, a bald guy in his thirties, sat behind the counter, tapping away at a keyboard. Behind him, a table held what was left of a box of cupcakes, along with a stack of napkins and some plastic silverware. A sign above the table said, “Happy Birthday, Kevin.” Next to the table, an open doorway led to another room. Dan heard voices drifting from that room and spotted a half-size silver refrigerator labeled, “For Medical Use Only.”
“Yes?” the man looked up. The plastic badge hanging around his neck confirmed he was Kevin, the one having a birthday. Unless there was more than one Kevin, but what were the chances?
“Hi,” Lindsay said. “We’ve just been visiting Nadine Bruder and—”
He held up his hand. “Let me guess. She told you no one ever comes to see her?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“She does get visitors, believe me,” he said. “I can tell you that her sons visit on a regular basis, so you don’t need to worry about that. She just can’t remember from one time to the next.”
“Okay,” Lindsay said in a moving-on voice. “But that’s not what we were going to ask. She told us something else too. We lost our dog, Anni, and Nadine said she’s seen her here.” She got her phone out and pulled up a picture. It was a close-up of Anni’s face, a particularly cute shot. “Have you seen our dog?”
Kevin leaned in to regard it carefully, then shook his head. “I’ve never seen her. I’m sorry.”
Lindsay turned back to her phone, scrolling through the photos. “Here’s a better picture of her whole body. You can see how big she is.” She turned the screen to show him.
He took a moment. “No, I’m sorry. Still not ringing a bell.”
“But sometimes people bring in dogs, right?” Oh no. Lindsay was not going to let this go.
“Oh sure, we have dogs coming in here. Therapy dogs mostly. Sometimes people will bring in a pet when they visit with a family member. I haven’t seen a dog that looked like that, though.”
Hello Love Page 12
