A Road Not Taken
“Can’t live with old people. I’ve a hard enough time looking at myself in
the mirror and seeing my turkey neck,” said Maddie Horowitz. “They say that old people die quicker in
places like this. I think I seen it in
a TV documentary; it was on PBS…or something like that. And if it ain’t true,
why would they say it?” Mother and
daughter sat side by side in the reception room of the Meadowlark Board and Care Home, both looking tensed and uncomfortable. Maddie continues, “There’s nothing wrong
with me. I get lapses of memory now and then, but that’s
typical at my age. I do not wear
diapers. I can walk without a cane, and I can feed myself. I don’t need people to care for me. Old folks should be protected from well meaning children…and I resent, I resent being shipped into a geriatric
institution just because you....
“Oh, shut up mom,” snapped Helen
wearily, “and don’t give me any more of your bullshit philosophy. Here’s the reality: this is the third time
you left something burning on the stove.
You nearly burnt the house down, goddamn it. It took your neighbor, who, by the way, hates
you, to call the fire department. She saw
smoke pouring out of your kitchen window.
I was told that when the firemen banged on your door, you opened it
and…guess what, mom; you asked them…YOU ASKED THEM WHAT THE HELL THEY WANTED! My god, doesn’t that tell you something?”
“That neighbor is always spying on
me. Listen, the fire was at the other end of the
house. I would’ve caught it if Joanie
hadn’t called. Joanie just love to
gossip and it would’ve been so rude to cut her off. Joanie’s my best friend, and I just got
caught up in the flow. It could’ve
happen to anyone” said Maddie.
“Not anyone, just old people like
you,” retorted Helen. “One time, you
fell asleep with the heater on right smack against the sofa…and the other time,
you went to visit, god knows who, and you left eggs boiling on the stove. Luckily I dropped in that day to see how you
were. And how many other accidents you
hadn’t bothered to tell us? You're old. You’re
nearly eighty, ma. Haight and Asbury isn't there anymore. They’re all here in
senior places like this. Look around
you. You can make new friends, enjoy the
company of people your age, talk about how you miss free sex, smoking pot, or
whatever you people talk about. You’ll
have time to relax…and this seems like a really nice place. It doesn’t smell of urine.”
“It smells of old people,” uttered
Maddie under her breath. She turned and
examined the décor of the lobby. They
were the same as the other care homes they had visited: fake floral
decorations, shinny linoleum floors, faded landscape prints on the wall, and
that smell…that smell of Fabrize…she hated that smell. It had the fragrance of a funeral
parlor. And the last thing she might
ever see in this world is its ceiling, when they wheel her out on a gurney, dying from bed sores or something close to it. “I don’t like places like
this. I don’t like the smell of
disinfectant. I don’t want to make new
friends. My old ones are bad
enough. At my age, I deserve privacy and
to die in my own bed and in my own home.”
Helen tightens her lips. She was middle aged and felt her energies
draining into the brown cushioned bench.
Her brothers have moved away, far enough to provide the excuse for not
visiting more often. Her mother, on the
other hand, always had an atrabilious disposition, so Helen couldn’t blame her
brothers for staying away. Why are
daughters the only ones to be caring for their elderly parents? At least it seemed that way. And her mother is so difficult, so
peevish. Probably because she spent her
years tolerating, rather than loving, the man she married. When he died, she told her children that she
stayed married to the man because of them. Her main goal in life seemed to be expounding on the
sacrifices she’s made, and how unfairly life has treated her. Her children had become the captured
audience. No one else seemed to be
listening.
A door opened, and two men sauntered
into the lobby and approached. The nearest one spoke, “Mom, this is Mr. Holloway, the director of this establishment. Now, this isn’t a done deal, and we have
other places to look at, but, like I told Helen, I think this place is really
special, and it’s close to us. A little
pricey, maybe, but we can afford it.” The man who spoke was Richard, stock broker, and Maddie's son-in-law. Maddie thought he was a prick.
The other man was dressed informally
in a white T-shirt, blue jeans and a politician’s smile. He stuck out his hand. “How do you do,
Maddie? You don’t mind if I call you
Maddie, do you? We’re sort of like a
family here, and I want Sue,” he motions to the receptionist, “she’s our
assistant director, to show you what we have to offer, and I’m absolutely
certain that if you decide to stay with us, you will find this a most pleasant
place to live. So, Sue, please give Mrs. Horowitz the
tour of the place, and answer any questions she might have.”
“Like I said, this isn’t a sure
thing, mom,” injected Richard. “There are
still other places we can look at. We
don’t want to press you in any way. We
just want you to be happy.”
Wants me to be happy, that’s a load of
horseshit, thought Maddie. Just want me
out of their hair and their conscience.
Maddie wished her daughter had married someone else, but she had to
admit, Helen was no prize either. “It’s okay, Richard, it’s okay. So, Sue, lead the way and I’ll see what there
is to see. But don’t go too fast. I’ve got a bad hip.”
“Perhaps you need a walker?” asked
Sue, hugging a clip board. “We have several spare ones in the lobby. Should I get you one?
“Having a bad hip doesn’t mean I’m
cripple.” Maddie said, with a sarcastic
edge. “Maybe when I’m feeling better.”
“This is our main center,” said Sue,
as they entered an enormous room with a high sculptured ceiling, “and you can
see we have a large pipe organ on the side wall there, and a grand piano. Do you play?”
Maddie shook her head. Sue
continued the tour, “This is our little theater where we have many
activities. We do have professional
entertainment every Tuesday night and Bingo every other night, except on
weekends: those days we show movies and have ping-pong tournaments. There are card games, bridge and whist, and,
on Fridays, there’s casino nights.” They
walk further on to adjoining rooms. “On
Sundays, to entertain visitors, we have Karaoke. Do you sing, Maddie?” Maddie shook her head. Without missing a beat, Sue continued, “did I
mention we have arts and crafts? There
is a small studio off the grounds for those who are interested. We have throw wheels and kilns in case you’re
into pottery. We have an excellent
instructor who comes in Monday mornings.”
“No, I don’t do artsy-fartsy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You were going to ask me if I do arts
and crafts, and my answer is no, I don’t do artsy-fartsy. In fact, I don’t do much of anything.” Sue’s annoyance towards
Maddie begins to seed.
“Come along now. We’ve got lots of ground to cover.” Sue was
in the business of dealing with old curmudgeons and she gave this one a six,
ten being the worst. The itinerary will
continue, and the script will be followed. Chin up, clutch the clipboard and
march smartly. “This is the main dinner
room where, as you can see, it’s in a cafeteria style for those who are
ambulatory and can help themselves. We
try to encourage all our guests, like yourself, to be as self sufficient as
humanly possible. Complimentary snacks
and coffee is served between the hours of one and five in the afternoon. And you will note that we have fresh cut
flowers placed daily on the middle of every….,” as Sue droned on, Maddie
noticed a man, approximately her age, sitting in a corner table sipping from a
coffee mug.
He was dressed in a squalid bathrobe, and underneath peeked blue pajamas. On
his head was a sweat-stained, maroon baseball cap that had “Harvard” blazoned
in the front. He was shod in very old slippers, the colors of which were so
aged that they were indiscernible.
Something of his physical appearance piqued a section of her buried
memories, so she walked directly in front of the old man to gain his attention. Sue was still prattling on, walking forward
in a measured pace when she realized that Maddie was no longer behind her, or
being attentive.
“Oh Maddie…uh, Ms. Horowitz, please
stay with me…"said Sue. "We wouldn’t want you to get lost, now, would we?" Maddie ignored the request and stood there
staring at the old gentleman sipping his drink.
For a full half minute, he did not look up. Gradually, the old man became aware of two
boney ankles, with black socks and black buckled shoes visible below his
visor. He slowly followed the scrawny
legs upward until the owner was in full view.
He croaked, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Oh, Maddie, do you know Mr. Salvador
here?” chirped Sue, hopefully.
A wide smile slowly manifests itself
in the old man’s face. “Well, goddamn,
well goddam it all. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it. Is that you; is that really you, Maddie? Well, hello there, can’t believe it’s
you. It is you? Of all places…can’t believe it. You’ve changed… but not much. Pretty as ever…er..you do look a little
dehydrated…but then, don’t we all.”
Well, fuck you too, thought Maddie,
“It’s good to see you, too, Sal. I hardly recognize you in that outfit. It is
you, isn’t it? Recognized your stoop. Boy, have you gotten thick. That bathrobe suits you. How long have you been buried in it? Didn’t know you were in the city. I take it
that you are a guest in this brightly lit mausoleum? .”
“Just got here. A few months, maybe.” Then came an embarrassing lull. They just stood there searching for a
smattering of small talk, trying to find the appropriate words to say. This meeting of providence came so suddenly
that they were both unprepared.
Sue, the assistant director, who was
being polite and a patient third party, said, “Look, Ms. Horowitz, seeing as
you both know each other, why don’t I just leave you two alone to chat for
awhile, and later I can let Mr.Salvador show you the rest of the place. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. And I’ve tons of paper work on my desk…and,
Sal, when you’re finish, just drop her off at the front desk. Her kids are waiting for her there.” Slowly,
Sue drifted toward the door where they had entered….”And behave yourself, Sal,”
she added before she disappeared.
Sal spoke up, “Would you like a cup
of coffee?”
“Yes, I could do with one.”
“Here, sit right here, while I get you
one. Cream and sugar, right?”
When Sal came back with the coffee, he
laid packets of sugar and powdered cream on the table. “Didn’t know how much you used, so I got a
bunch. Isn’t Sue something else? She runs the place, you know. We call her the ‘Empress’, the real power in
this place. You’ve met Holloway, right? Well, he’s just a front man.. Never leaves
his office…doesn’t like getting near old folks, thinks we’re contagious. Sue on the other hand likes us old
people…like an owner liking his pet dogs.
Maddie avoided looking at Sal’s eyes
which seemed to be staring at her. She
replied, “She seems nice enough, but that spiel sounded like a memorized list. I guess if you have to do it a dozen times a
month... Well, how’ve you been,
Sal? Such a coincidence, we meeting like
this. I wasn’t aware you were living in
the city. Last I heard you moved some
where back east, got married and had kids.” She stirred her coffee. “Well, how’ve you?…oh, I think I’ve already
said that. Sorry.”
“You get old, you repeat
yourself. It happens,” replied Sal. “To answer your question, I’ve been doing
okay. Can’t believe my eyes that you’re
here in front of me. I never…I never
though I’d ever see you again. But here
you are.” There was a long pause. Then Sal coughed and said, “When
was it? I think the last time I saw you
was…was at your mother’s. We had this
big fight, I remember, and I stormed out of the house. What, some sixty plus years ago, was it? Yea, I think it’s been over sixty years.”
“God, has it been that long? Mom was the one who told me that you got
married,” said Maddie. “And that you had
a couple of kids. She also added,’good
riddance’. She really didn’t like
you. I have to admit, it’s strange
talking to you like this. Like you said,
I never thought we would run into each other again.
“Same here. So what have you been up to all these
years? Married?” asked Sal.
“Remember Harold Horowitz?”
Sal pondered for a moment. “Oh, that
jock …we were all in the same statistic class at J. C, if my memory serves
me…not the brightest guy in the world.
Good looking, though, what about him?
No, you didn’t?”
“Oh, but I did.” And Maddie rolled her
eyes. “It was just a couple of months after we broke up. Mom thought he was the greatest thing since
canned tuna and was going places, and she really pushed him in front of
me. God was she wrong….”
“Geeze, sorry to hear that,
Maddie. And is he…?
“Oh no, he passed away many years ago. Been happy living alone since. He was one big loser, that guy…but he did
give me three wonderful kids. Of course,
they’ve all moved on, except my daughter, Helen. She lives here in the city. In fact, she’s the one who bought me
here.” She hesitated for a moment and
ponders if she should extol her children’s success. Should she say how well they were doing? Maddie hated it when others brag about their
children, instead she said,” And you?
What have you been doing all these years?”
Sal began fidgeting with his spoon,
calculating which role to play, what voice to use, a trait developed at
countless Toast Master meetings. “Well, I got married. She passed away several years ago. Also had a couple of kids, all girls. The marriage was okay. Remember what we use to say, ‘the secret of a
long marriage is the ability of both parties to tolerate boredom with each
other’…”
“Oh, I remember that. Who said it?
I forgot.”
“We made it up ourselves.”
“We did? Imagine that.
Uh, did you do well? Financially,
I mean.” Asked Maddie.
“Well, does it look like I did? I mean, this great Armani bathrobe, and my
Pierre Cardin pajamas underneath, and you know I’m not wearing underwear. I’m also depressed, in need of a shave, and
lodged in an old-age home. I think I reek of success, don’t you?”
“Looks are deceiving, said
Maddie. “I married one that was cheerful
as hell, looked terribly successful, and turned out to be just the biggest
loser around. But this place is kinda
expensive, and Sue treats you with respect.
I can tell. In fact, I think
she’s kinda afraid of you…which means you’re either a serial killer or you got
money. Have I got that right? You were cute…once. Now look at you. Ugly as sin and probably as rich as Trump.”
“You know those little plastic tags
that tells you the price of an item in the super market? Well, I manufactured those little tags for
most of the chain stores in this state, or I did before I sold the business.”
“Is there money making those little
tags?” asked Maddie
“You wouldn’t think so,” answered Sal.
“You know, I’ve always thought of you
now and then,” said Maddie, “less as the years rolled by, but I always had that
‘what if’ when I did think of you.” Maddie paused and looked up at the
ceiling. “Sometimes I get sad, very sad,
knowing you’ve probably passed away, and we would never meet again, never to
have closure, never to catch up on things, or find how things turned out.”
“God damn it, that’s…that’s awfully
sad,” said Sal, and he brushed the soiled sleeve of his pajamas across his
eyes. And as they chatted on, their talk
grew in momentum, with periodical bursts of laughter. They detailed their lives to each other as if
they were strangers; they reminisced about their mutual friends and
acquaintances, living and dead, their whereabouts, their destinies and the
surprise at what they had became, of old haunts and restaurants that no longer
existed. The hour passed, the fuel of
gossip turned into embers and the silence between sentences began to
lengthen. And near the end, they both
became quiet, both staring into space. Finally, Sal spoke up.
“But here we are…and I thought of you
a lot, too,” said Sal. “I thought of writing…I knew where you lived but not the
address. I couldn’t bring myself to
finding out. Anyway, I was already
married, and when my wife, Annie, died, I just kinda gave up on everything and
moved back here. Got into this rest home
so the kids don’t have to worry about me.
What about you? Same reason?”
“No.
I hate goddamn places like this.
My daughter wants to put me in here.
But never mind all that. What
bothers me right now is…why did we break up?
Do you remember? It was your last
semester in college and I was still a junior.
We were together for…what …nearly a year? It was something to do with…I really can’t
remember. I do remember it was at my
mother’s place, and you were talking to my mother, and I got angry and I
screamed at you. You slammed the front
door on the way out, and broke the stained glass panel. Then you ran to your car, that old, beat
up Pontiac. I still remember the blue sun shade in front
of the windshields and the fluffy pair of white dice hanging from your rear view mirror.”
“The car had wires holding up the
bumpers. Do you remember that?” asked Sal.
“Yea and it rattled every time you and
I were….” And Maddie began to laugh. “So, what the hell happened to us?”
“We were young. Too young, I guess,” said Sal, amusingly. “I
think it was because I agreed with your mother when she criticized you for
something…something to do with your appearance.
Anyway, it could’ve been something else, but the main thing was, I took
her side too often. And that one time
was one time too many. I thought about
it later and you were right to get angry at me…but I did it only because I
didn’t think your mother liked me, and I
just wanted to please her. Anyway, it
was just some petty shit… I do remember thinking how grossly unfair of you to
suddenly lose your temper and telling me to leave. So, I did.
I remember slamming the front door when I left but I don’t remember
breaking any glass.”
“Well, you did,” said Maddie.
“But, you know what? I was sitting and waiting in the car, hoping
that you’d come out and…sort of apologize,” said Sal. “I waited quite a
while before taking off.”
“Bullshit, you did!” said Maddie. “I knew I was wrong when I yelled at
you. It wasn’t that long when I came out
looking for you…and you were already gone.”
“You came out?”
“Yes, I did. And you weren’t there,”
“Well, why didn’t you call me
after? I waited by the phone.”
“Why didn’t you? I waited too,” said Maddie.
Sal began rubbing his forehead and
noticed the assistant director, Sue, and some other people standing by the
entrance of the cafeteria. Sue was
pointing at her watch. “I think our zoo keeper is trying to tell us something. Is that your daughter standing next to her?”
Maddie turned her head and said,“Yes, that’s her…and next to her is Richard, my
son-in-law. He’s a prick,”
“If you say so, then he is. Look, Maddie, let’s get together here
for dinner tonight. The food isn’t half
bad and I’m sure it's complementary for potential residents. Can’t pass up free food, now, can we? Go join your kids, they’re looking kinda
nervous, and I’ll see you this evening, okay?
“I guess so.” And Maddie got up from
her seat and walked toward the group.
She hesitated, turned, and waved bye-bye. They all began to walk toward the lobby.
Richard spoke up. “Who the hell was that?”
“Somebody I knew a long, long time ago,”
answered Maddie.
“See.
What did I tell you, mom”, said Helen.
“You’ve barely just got in here and already you’re making friends. I think this place will really suit you,
aren’t I right, Richard?” Richard and
Sue nodded their heads approvingly. “So, should we sign up today? Might as well. We’ve been to half a dozen places and you’ve
got to agree, it’s the best so far.”
“No, I don’t like this place,” said
Maddie, suddenly. “I want to leave
now. And I don’t ever want to come
back.” And she hobbled toward the
entrance leaving the group standing there, all puzzled and confused. Maddie didn’t look back. She reached into her purse for her cell
phone. She punched in a number, waited
for an answer and said, “Joanie, you wouldn’t believe in a million years who I
saw today…”
“
