“Jerry, take your meds.” Ellen was thin, quiet, but not to messed with.
He didn’t really care today.
“Jerry,” she repeated, “we’ve done this a thousand fold and it always turns out the same way. Please don’t waste my time.”
She was right — they had done this a thousand times, and it did always turn out the same way — but he was still going to put on the show.
Just to keep her distracted.
He opened his mouth to protest (or so Ellen would think) but then threw in the three little pills and took a gulp of tea from his cup. Then he made a big deal of swallowing and opening his mouth again to show that the pills were gone.
Ellen looked at him like she looked at everything else — with eyes that could see but would never really care — then she turned on her heels and walked the med cart over to Beverley Lewis who was drooling down the front of the bib that was tied haphazardly around her wrinkled neck.
Jerry drank the water from his plastic cup to wash away the heat from the tea. He watched as one of the pills bobbed up to the milky surface in his mug and wondered how he was going to fix that situation. Letting the capsules hit the roof of his mouth and then get sucked back with the rest of the tea was easy; getting rid of them was a whole different thing that he hadn’t really thought about until this point.
“Butter cake, Mr Downs?” It was one of the morning shift trainees. Luke or something. He was holding a flimsy plastic plate with a thin piece of dry butter cake on it.
Jerry looked up at the kid and had an idea. “My fly has a tea in it.”
“I’m sorry Mr Downs?” Luke-or-something was confused.
“I mean, apologies — my tea has a fly in it.”
“Oh. Oh... I see. Would you like me to make you a fresh cup?”
Jerry went to stand up. “No no. I can do it. You carry on kiddo. But be sure not to get your fingers too close to Bev’s chompers,” he winked.
The kid shrugged and continued on his butter-cake-mission around the ring of stained plastic chairs that were the main attraction in the common room of Pandonia Lodge.
With plenty of effort, Jerry hoisted himself out of his plastic chair and shuffled over to the tea cart that was parked near the nurse’s station.
As he dumped his tea (and secret stash of pills) into the waste bucked, a pair of dark eyes and a short, thin, electric-purple mohawk appeared from behind the cart.
“Jerry,” she repeated, “we’ve done this a thousand fold and it always turns out the same way. Please don’t waste my time.”
She was right — they had done this a thousand times, and it did always turn out the same way — but he was still going to put on the show.
Just to keep her distracted.
He opened his mouth to protest (or so Ellen would think) but then threw in the three little pills and took a gulp of tea from his cup. Then he made a big deal of swallowing and opening his mouth again to show that the pills were gone.
Ellen looked at him like she looked at everything else — with eyes that could see but would never really care — then she turned on her heels and walked the med cart over to Beverley Lewis who was drooling down the front of the bib that was tied haphazardly around her wrinkled neck.
Jerry drank the water from his plastic cup to wash away the heat from the tea. He watched as one of the pills bobbed up to the milky surface in his mug and wondered how he was going to fix that situation. Letting the capsules hit the roof of his mouth and then get sucked back with the rest of the tea was easy; getting rid of them was a whole different thing that he hadn’t really thought about until this point.
“Butter cake, Mr Downs?” It was one of the morning shift trainees. Luke or something. He was holding a flimsy plastic plate with a thin piece of dry butter cake on it.
Jerry looked up at the kid and had an idea. “My fly has a tea in it.”
“I’m sorry Mr Downs?” Luke-or-something was confused.
“I mean, apologies — my tea has a fly in it.”
“Oh. Oh... I see. Would you like me to make you a fresh cup?”
Jerry went to stand up. “No no. I can do it. You carry on kiddo. But be sure not to get your fingers too close to Bev’s chompers,” he winked.
The kid shrugged and continued on his butter-cake-mission around the ring of stained plastic chairs that were the main attraction in the common room of Pandonia Lodge.
With plenty of effort, Jerry hoisted himself out of his plastic chair and shuffled over to the tea cart that was parked near the nurse’s station.
As he dumped his tea (and secret stash of pills) into the waste bucked, a pair of dark eyes and a short, thin, electric-purple mohawk appeared from behind the cart.
“Dom!” Jerry hissed, and turned back quickly to see if anyone was looking.
They weren’t — Ellen was rigid as always, talking to a tired-looking resident; Beverly Lewis was stuffing
butter cake in between her dentures; and Luke-or-something was turned towards a window mucking with
his phone.
Jerry slowly turned back to the cart. The purple mohawk was gone and so he poured another cup of tea, but just as he was stirring in the half-spoon of sugar that he liked, he heard a whispering voice to his left.
“Jeeeeeeeeeee-rrreeeeeeeee...”
He turned his head to see Dom in a backwards hand-stand against the wall down the hall. A huge grin peeled itself right across the kid's face.
“Oh my God!” the Dom exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting, like, only forever for you."
All Jerry could think was that he was going to be in trouble. They were going to be in trouble. “Dominique, you can’t be here!”
“Jesus. You always say that.”
Jerry stepped further into the hall — away from the common room. “I say it because it’s true.”
“Oh, c’mon Grandpa. Live it up a little.”
Jerry didn’t like that. “Please don’t call me Grandpa.”
Dom pushed himself off the wall and stood up-right, his purple mohawk bobbing sideways and then back again. “Sorry J. I’ll call you Nancy if you prefer. Either way — I have a plan,” Dom said, winking one of his dark eyes.
Jerry was tired. “No, not tonight Dom. I have to get back to the common room and check in with Ellen.”
“Fuck that. I have a better idea.” Dom winked again and took Jerry’s hand in his own.
The skinny purple-haired teenager dragged the old man further down the hall, away from the common room of Pandonia Lodge and the tedious staff and residents who milled there, wasting away their lives.
“Where are we going Dom?”
“To complete the first stage of my plan, Nancy. You and I are getting out of this prison.” Dom dragged Jerry past the awful unisex bathrooms, the steaming hot kitchen, and the security desk — they headed right for the staff locker room and Dom produced a silver master key from him pocket.
“Where did you get that?!”
Jerry slowly turned back to the cart. The purple mohawk was gone and so he poured another cup of tea, but just as he was stirring in the half-spoon of sugar that he liked, he heard a whispering voice to his left.
“Jeeeeeeeeeee-rrreeeeeeeee...”
He turned his head to see Dom in a backwards hand-stand against the wall down the hall. A huge grin peeled itself right across the kid's face.
“Oh my God!” the Dom exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting, like, only forever for you."
All Jerry could think was that he was going to be in trouble. They were going to be in trouble. “Dominique, you can’t be here!”
“Jesus. You always say that.”
Jerry stepped further into the hall — away from the common room. “I say it because it’s true.”
“Oh, c’mon Grandpa. Live it up a little.”
Jerry didn’t like that. “Please don’t call me Grandpa.”
Dom pushed himself off the wall and stood up-right, his purple mohawk bobbing sideways and then back again. “Sorry J. I’ll call you Nancy if you prefer. Either way — I have a plan,” Dom said, winking one of his dark eyes.
Jerry was tired. “No, not tonight Dom. I have to get back to the common room and check in with Ellen.”
“Fuck that. I have a better idea.” Dom winked again and took Jerry’s hand in his own.
The skinny purple-haired teenager dragged the old man further down the hall, away from the common room of Pandonia Lodge and the tedious staff and residents who milled there, wasting away their lives.
“Where are we going Dom?”
“To complete the first stage of my plan, Nancy. You and I are getting out of this prison.” Dom dragged Jerry past the awful unisex bathrooms, the steaming hot kitchen, and the security desk — they headed right for the staff locker room and Dom produced a silver master key from him pocket.
“Where did you get that?!”
Dom shrugged. “Stole it from the nurse’s station, Nancy. Whatchya’ gonna do ‘bout it?”
Jerry felt a tumultuous mix of worry and excitement inside himself. “This is bad Dom. We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re going to get caught.”
Dom waved his hand in Jerry’s face as he opened the locker room door and pushed inside. “Oh don’t be such a scaredy-cat Nancy. All we need is one set of car keys and we are outta-here!”
With a glance behind him, Jerry had no choice but to follow the purple mohawk though the door and hope that no one saw them. Inside it smelled of sweat and socks and Indian food. Jerry felt the urge to hold his breath. “What do we even need a car for, Dom? We’re not going anywhere without the pass-code for the main door.”
Dom brushed a hand down the line of smooth skin next to his mohawk. “Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, old man. You just leave that to me.” Dom turned quickly and started rifling through the myriad bags that lined the benches. When he found a jingling key chain in what looked like a bowling ball bag he jumped up on the bench with a wild ‘ah-ha!’.
“Get down from there Dom,” Jerry protested, feeling all his seventy-three years coming down upon him at once. He wanted to have fun but now was not the time, and this was not the place. Pandonia Lodge was where he lived now and it commanded respect. He had already disobeyed the rules by not taking his pills — by lying — and now stealing was just another step out of line.
Dom jumped down from the bench and looked at Jerry with big, crazy eyes. “Remember when you used to knock off early on Friday afternoons and bust me out of school and we would go to the beach down past Golden Cove — where you knew that no one would recognise us, so we wouldn’t get in trouble? Remember?”
Jerry looked down. He remembered.
Dom jangled the keys in his hand and tousled Jerry’s wispy grey hair. “Golden Cove was always my favourite place. Always.”
The old man felt a big fat lump swell up in his throat.
~~~
“Jesus! Jerry! Where the fuck do you even think you’re going?” Ellen was not herself for a moment — she was huffing and puffing and there was bright pink colour in her usually pallid, unreadable face. She stopped in front of the Vespa 400 and Jerry could see her process as she put herself back together. She straightened up. The calm came over her and it was enviable. Jerry was used to the panic, even in his old age, even now that there was nothing to lose. He always got the guilts so easily and couldn’t help but feel every eye on him despite being the only one in the room.
If only he could find a calm like that.
Jerry gripped the steering wheel of the Vespa and looked across at Dom who had his feet up on the dash, and his chin down on his chest, and his arm crossed like a sullen child. Jerry remembered that Dominique had always been a sullen child. Naughty and then sullen. Naughty and then sullen. Sullen when caught.
Jerry felt a tumultuous mix of worry and excitement inside himself. “This is bad Dom. We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re going to get caught.”
Dom waved his hand in Jerry’s face as he opened the locker room door and pushed inside. “Oh don’t be such a scaredy-cat Nancy. All we need is one set of car keys and we are outta-here!”
With a glance behind him, Jerry had no choice but to follow the purple mohawk though the door and hope that no one saw them. Inside it smelled of sweat and socks and Indian food. Jerry felt the urge to hold his breath. “What do we even need a car for, Dom? We’re not going anywhere without the pass-code for the main door.”
Dom brushed a hand down the line of smooth skin next to his mohawk. “Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, old man. You just leave that to me.” Dom turned quickly and started rifling through the myriad bags that lined the benches. When he found a jingling key chain in what looked like a bowling ball bag he jumped up on the bench with a wild ‘ah-ha!’.
“Get down from there Dom,” Jerry protested, feeling all his seventy-three years coming down upon him at once. He wanted to have fun but now was not the time, and this was not the place. Pandonia Lodge was where he lived now and it commanded respect. He had already disobeyed the rules by not taking his pills — by lying — and now stealing was just another step out of line.
Dom jumped down from the bench and looked at Jerry with big, crazy eyes. “Remember when you used to knock off early on Friday afternoons and bust me out of school and we would go to the beach down past Golden Cove — where you knew that no one would recognise us, so we wouldn’t get in trouble? Remember?”
Jerry looked down. He remembered.
Dom jangled the keys in his hand and tousled Jerry’s wispy grey hair. “Golden Cove was always my favourite place. Always.”
The old man felt a big fat lump swell up in his throat.
~~~
“Jesus! Jerry! Where the fuck do you even think you’re going?” Ellen was not herself for a moment — she was huffing and puffing and there was bright pink colour in her usually pallid, unreadable face. She stopped in front of the Vespa 400 and Jerry could see her process as she put herself back together. She straightened up. The calm came over her and it was enviable. Jerry was used to the panic, even in his old age, even now that there was nothing to lose. He always got the guilts so easily and couldn’t help but feel every eye on him despite being the only one in the room.
If only he could find a calm like that.
Jerry gripped the steering wheel of the Vespa and looked across at Dom who had his feet up on the dash, and his chin down on his chest, and his arm crossed like a sullen child. Jerry remembered that Dominique had always been a sullen child. Naughty and then sullen. Naughty and then sullen. Sullen when caught.
“Tell her, then. I know you’re going to.” Dom’s electric-purple mohawk brushed against the car’s roof as
he spoke.
Jerry looked back up at Ellen and the words came out far too softly. To the beach.
“I’m sorry Jerry,” she said coldly, “did you say something?”
“To the beach.”
“To the beach?”
He nodded, “Mmhmmmm.”
“To the beach,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
Jerry swallowed and tasted the freedom that was about to be taken from him.
Ellen took a few steps forward and placed her hands on the Vespa. “Turn the engine off please, Jerry. We’re going back inside.”
Jerry shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter — he didn’t want to go back inside.
“Jerry,” she repeated, “we’ve done this a thousand fold and it always turns out the same way. Please don’t waste my time.”
He looked up and saw her face was serious. His confusion must have been apparent. “I was going to the beach,” he protested.
“Who were you going to the beach with?” she asked, motioning for Luke-or-something to step and in get Jerry out of the car.
Jerry turned to Dom, who was still sulking, and then back to Ellen. Her face was unreadable and slightly distorted on the other side of the Vespa’s windshield.
“Jerry, who were you going to the beach with?”
Jerry, feeling all of his seventy-three years hanging over him, was finally ready to go back to Pandonia Lodge. “I was going to go with Dom. It was his plan, after all.”
Ellen’s face didn’t change. “Dominique has been dead for forty years Jerry. I’m sorry. And I need to ask another question.”
Jerry knew what the next question was — “No. I didn’t take my meds,” he said, feeling tired all of a sudden.
When Jerry looked back to the passenger seat, Dom was staring right at him and the electric-purple mohawk had drooped a little. “Dad, I’m sorry. I just wanted to go to the beach.”
Jerry looked back up at Ellen and the words came out far too softly. To the beach.
“I’m sorry Jerry,” she said coldly, “did you say something?”
“To the beach.”
“To the beach?”
He nodded, “Mmhmmmm.”
“To the beach,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.
Jerry swallowed and tasted the freedom that was about to be taken from him.
Ellen took a few steps forward and placed her hands on the Vespa. “Turn the engine off please, Jerry. We’re going back inside.”
Jerry shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tighter — he didn’t want to go back inside.
“Jerry,” she repeated, “we’ve done this a thousand fold and it always turns out the same way. Please don’t waste my time.”
He looked up and saw her face was serious. His confusion must have been apparent. “I was going to the beach,” he protested.
“Who were you going to the beach with?” she asked, motioning for Luke-or-something to step and in get Jerry out of the car.
Jerry turned to Dom, who was still sulking, and then back to Ellen. Her face was unreadable and slightly distorted on the other side of the Vespa’s windshield.
“Jerry, who were you going to the beach with?”
Jerry, feeling all of his seventy-three years hanging over him, was finally ready to go back to Pandonia Lodge. “I was going to go with Dom. It was his plan, after all.”
Ellen’s face didn’t change. “Dominique has been dead for forty years Jerry. I’m sorry. And I need to ask another question.”
Jerry knew what the next question was — “No. I didn’t take my meds,” he said, feeling tired all of a sudden.
When Jerry looked back to the passenger seat, Dom was staring right at him and the electric-purple mohawk had drooped a little. “Dad, I’m sorry. I just wanted to go to the beach.”
Jerry smiled. “I know kiddo. So did I.”
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