Chapter 2
On Wednesday, Celia and Landen showed up right on time.
They pulled up in their white car.
Landen helped me load my suitcase into the trunk.
Celia stood off to the side, watching me lock the door. She asked, "Where did you put those boxes?"
She meant her old stuff.
I replied, "In the storage room by the door.
"The key is under the doormat.
"Come pick them up whenever you have time."
Celia simply responded with a quiet hum and didn't say anything further.
We drove out to the suburbs.
The nursing home was farther than I'd expected.
It looked a lot older than it did in the brochure.
But it was spotless.
There were flowers and plants growing in the yard.
A few elderly folks were basking in the sun, playing chess.
The whole scene felt peaceful.
The director, Gabriela Doyle, was a woman in her forties.
She greeted us warmly.
Then she led me to my room.
It was a single room with a window facing south.
There was a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk.
There was also a tiny balcony.
Gabriela asked, "Are you happy with the room, Mrs. Sanchez?
"If you need anything, let us know."
I nodded. "It's great. Thank you, Ms. Doyle."
Celia tidied the bed slightly and said, "Mom, we're heading out now.
"We've got stuff to take care of at work.
"Relax and get some rest here.
"We'll come visit you this weekend."
I looked at her. "No need.
"You both have your own things to take care of.
"Don't let me hold you up at work."
Celia didn't seem to understand the implication. "Okay, we're leaving now.
"If you need anything, tell the caregiver or call me."
After saying that, she took Landen with her and walked out.
She didn't look back at me, not even once.
I stood by the window, watching their white car pull out of the gate and merge into traffic until it disappeared from sight.
I closed the window.
I set my husband's framed photo on the desk.
Then I began putting my things away.
I hung my clothes in the wardrobe.
I arranged my toiletries in the bathroom.
Everything was well-organized.
That night, I had the most peaceful sleep I'd had in ten years.
No worries or cares weighed on my mind.
*****
The next three days passed quietly, and a sense of calm settled in.
Life at the nursing home felt orderly and predictable.
I got up at six in the morning and went to bed at nine at night.
During the day, I joined everyone for some exercise and to read the news.
I also got to know Maria Cortez, who lived next door.
She used to teach language arts.
We really hit it off.
We enjoyed strolling around the yard together, swapping stories about our youth and our children.
Maria shared that her son lived overseas and rarely came home.
However, he sent her care packages every month and called her on video every week.
"Kids have their own lives now. We shouldn't be a burden," Maria said, her eyes shining as she spoke.
I kept quiet about my own family.
There wasn't much to share, anyway.
*****
Sunday marked the fourth day.
I expected Celia to come.
She promised she'd visit me this weekend.
I spent the entire day waiting, from morning until afternoon.
My phone remained silent, and she failed to appear.
I found myself not surprised and even a bit relieved.
Her absence brought me an unexpected sense of peace.
During dinner, Maria and I sat together in the dining hall, enjoying our meal.
The food at the nursing home was decent. We had two meat options, a vegetable side, and soup. It was light and easy to digest, right for seniors like us.
As we ate, the telephone in my room rang.
Aubrey Fernando, one of the caregivers, hurried over. "Mrs. Sanchez, you've got a call.
"Your daughter is on the line.
"She contacted the front desk, so I transferred it to your room."
I set down my fork and smiled at Maria. "I'll go take the call."
Maria nodded. "Go ahead. She must be missing you."
I walked slowly back to my room.
The old telephone on my desk rang insistently, its tone echoing in the room.
The ring was sharp and insistent.
I picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Mom, where the hell have you been? Why did it take so long for you to answer?" Celia's voice burst through the phone.
I pulled the receiver away from my ear. "I was eating. What's wrong?" My voice remained flat.
Celia snapped, "What's wrong? Are you really asking me that?
"Why is my mortgage overdue?
"The bank called just now, demanding payment.
"They said if I don't pay, it'll ruin my credit.
"What happened to my card? Did you do something to it?"
Listening to her frantic voice, I felt especially pleased.
Finally, this day had come. I had been waiting for this moment for four days.
"What did you do with that card?" Celia shouted again, her voice piercing and making my ears ring.
I held the receiver a bit farther away. "Which card?" I asked, pretending not to know.
She barked, "The one for the mortgage payments.
"Drop the act.
"Did you shut it off?"
"Yeah, I did," I replied. "I canceled it."
There was a stunned silence on the other end.
After about five or six seconds, Celia's voice finally came through again.
But now, she wasn't yelling anymore. Her tone was icy, barely containing her anger. "Who said you could cancel my card?"
I chuckled. "Celia, you got it all wrong.
"That card is a secondary one tied to my paycheck account.
"It belongs to me.
"So does the money.
"I can always cut it off as long as I want.
"Do I need a reason?"
"You—" Celia was so taken aback that she couldn't continue. "Laura Sanchez, have you lost your mind?
"Do you realize how important this mortgage is to me?
"If I miss a payment, I'll end up on the credit blacklist.
"I won't even be able to get a car loan.
"My job could be at risk because of this."
I knew exactly what she was talking about.
That was why I did it.
I said, "That's your problem.
"Your credit and your job? None of that concerns me."
"You'd better get to the bank and fix this right now," Celia barked, her tone turning into a command. "If you don't, I won't let this go."
"Celia Whitaker." I used her full name. "Have you forgotten?
"You're the one who put me in this nursing home.
"You're the one who said you didn't have time to take care of me.
"I'm only an old lady in a nursing home, living off my pension.
"Where do you think I'd get 3 thousand dollars a month to cover your mortgage?
"I need to save my money to care for myself in my old age and cover my own funeral costs.
"After all, I can't rely on you, can I?"
After I said all that, the line fell completely silent.
I could hear her heavy, ragged breathing, resembling a wild animal on the verge of losing control.
"Fine," Celia spat. "Laura Sanchez, you really have some nerve.
"Just you wait.
"I'm on my way."
Then she ended the call abruptly.
I put the receiver back in its place.
I felt totally calm inside.
I was even a little excited.
I walked over to the window and glanced down.
It was getting dark outside.
The courtyard lights had turned on.
A few of the other seniors, done with dinner, were out for a walk together.
Everything felt calm and serene.
The outside world mirrored the peace I felt within.
I went back to the dining table.
Bit by bit, I finished the rest of my meal, savoring every bite.
Honestly, it tasted better than ever.
After dinner, I headed to the communal washroom to clean my plate.
When I returned to my room, Maria was waiting for me in the hallway.
"Laura, are you alright?" she asked, her face filled with concern. "I heard you talk so loudly on the phone in your room just now.
"Was it your daughter calling?"
I nodded. "Yeah. She's stressed about work."
I made up an excuse, not wanting anyone to laugh at me.
Maria patted my hand. "Young people these days are indeed under so much pressure.
"We parents should be more understanding."
I believed Celia's excuse.
I thought she truly was busy.
I was understanding.
Thinking about it now, I realized that being considerate toward her was the biggest mistake of my life.