of answers are layered inside these old patients’ heads. Soon they will all be gone. Their random access memories are shot. Death will erase their hard drives and local funeral directors will deal with what’s left. He’s running out of time! Talk to me. What would he uncover if he could go from room to room, cracking secrets out of their shrinking heads?
Shit, Dan thinks. It’s just as well I didn’t come here for answers. Look at her!
Dressed in pink seersucker today, with knotted bones that used to be feet tucked into sheepskin booties that have never walked a step, Blanche Henderson stirs. There’s a button missing on the dress and someone has closed the neck with an oval brooch which, he notes uneasily, seems to contain human hair. Other people have the good grace to die off before they reach this age, but Grammy is still among them. Studying the husk of a woman who’s been around too long, Dan marvels. How did you get to be so old?
Sensing his impatience, Steffy says, ‘Grammy?’
The old woman’s body has given up on her but the spark won’t let go, no matter how much she wants it to fly up.
Grammy’s in there somewhere, fixed on something only she can see. Great age has one compensation. Time and space are nothing to her. Dan has no idea how long it will take Grammy to get back from wherever she is roaming; she could be anywhere, wandering around in search of the white light or spinning her wheels on memory lane or excavating truths that at the time she didn’t recognize as such.
Is Blanche aware that Steffy has brought an outsider into the close, obscenely intimate space where – soon, if she’s lucky – she will die? Does she have any idea that Dan is willing her to speak so he can escape? He gnaws his lip until blood comes.
‘Hang on and I’ll get some cupcake into her.’ Patiently, the girl holds a sticky cube to her great-grandmother’s lips. Steffy tickles Grammy’s cheek until the mouth pops open. She slips in the cake like mail into a letter slot. ‘There.’
Like a vet giving a dog a pill, she strokes Grammy’s throat. It takes a long time for her mouth to move. They wait a long time for her to swallow. Watching for signs of life, Dan thinks: Steffy’s right about the smell. Then he thinks: There isn’t enough Lysol in the world. Everything is desperately pretty in Grammy’s room. Pink eyelet curtains, matching dust ruffle, pink comforter and ruffled eyelet pillow shams that in no way obfuscate the fact that this is a hospital bed. Aqua walls. Above the bed hangs a framed repro of that pretty-pretty painting of a Southern belle at a piano; Dan thinks the dress comes in different colors according to which company supplies the repro, but he isn’t sure. Then the chair clanks into upright position and he jumps out of his seat.
‘Hello,’ the old lady says, blinking. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s me, Grammy. Stephanie. Nenna’s girl?’ She shoves him closer. ‘And this is Dan.’
‘How do you do,’ Dan says, looking into opaque eyes. The disturbing thing about Grammy Henderson is that she is pretty much bald. What little hair she has stands up bravely, a handful of white threads that one of the attendants has brushed to a shine and fluffed so it will look like more. She doesn’t exactly look at him. She just holds up the knot of bones that passes for a hand as though she’s used to having it kissed. Instead, he bends down and carefully – every segment of this lady ought to be stamped FRAGILE – he takes it. It’s like shaking a bunch of dried flowers.
Startled, she looks up, shouting, ‘Company! Stephanie, get my wig!’
Steffy whispers, ‘It’s been years since she wore the wig. This is a very big deal.’
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘Dan. Dan Carteret.’
‘Little Lucy’s boy!’ That flash. As suddenly, Blanche goes back inside.
How does she know? Did Nenna come running with the news? He snaps forward, hanging on the next word, but Grammy’s gone. Amazing how still a person can be, for so long.
Long becomes too long and Dan gives up on her. It’s late. He turns to Steffy, assuming they are done. ‘OK then. Where do you want me to drop you?’
‘Oh, I have to stay. Staff’s night off, I have to feed Grammy when her dinner comes.’ She turns with a steely glare, all teeth. ‘You’re