I open the door with my own key. Kay Landfried trusts me. I am the youngest person I have seen in this retirement community only one block from the high school. I don't mind coming here to see her every Friday afternoon to spend the night and make her favorite breakfast in the morning, (cream chipped beef on toast). I tried to eat her breakfast once because I liked the way it smelled.... I wondered how she could eat it every morning?
Sometimes I am sleepy from a long week of study and I enjoy the time I have to relax in my own room, with my own TV and phone- before the night begins. I peek my head around the door and whisper, "Hello Kay, I'm here." And that I would see her at 7:00 - a half an hour before Jeopardy. Often times she tells me what she wants for dinner, always some sort of Stouffer's microwave dinner. The meals are easy for me to mash up for her toothless mouth for she gums it down pretty well. I usually bring my own food: a sandwich, soup made by a proud mother, or sometimes I order a pizza.
My bed here is bigger than the one I have at home and has an egg create mattress covering like at my grandmother's house. The color scheme of my room is a pale yellow, curtains and bedspread match. Even my favorite overstuffed chair is a creamy yellow. I call this room my egg yoke form society. Tucked away, safe and warm. While all my friends are out partying and having fun on Friday nights, I am pleased to be curled up with a good book by 11:00. Occasionally I hear screams of excitement coming from the high school, informing me we have won the sports event.
I hear the bell ring in the other room and realize I have drifted of longer than expected. The color is gone from the room and the bright clock tells me it is 7:15. I rush to her room and she smiles at me, "Just wanted to make sure you were awake love. Now, is supper almost ready?" I nod my head and tell her it will be ready in fifteen minutes. I rush into the kitchen and pull out the stuffed bell peppers that the previous caregiver must have made last night. This one's easy, just pop them in the microwave for six minutes, pour the ice water into her favorite tall blue glass, and open a can of sliced peaches. I put it all on a tray and "taa daa" ten minutes have passed and she is receiving her room service. "Thank you love, doesn't this smell good? If there is one left, I'd like you to have it." I can never say no when offered good food. I think it has something to do with my Italian grandmother throwing a sad temper tantrum when I was full of pasta and could not eat anther bite. I make myself up a plat of stuffed pepper and add a dollop of cottage cheese, a food I actually hated before I met Kay Landfried.
At 7:30 we both call out the answers to the "What Is..." game show. The stuffed peppers make my eyes water slightly. Food always has to have a little extra spice and flavor for my new friend. As the oxygen dries out her tongue and thus her taste buds do not taste food like they use to. After the challenging game show, I take our dishes to the kitchen. I will do them after she goes to bed as 8:00 is our special talking hour, where we both share stories from our past. My stories usually have to do with my childhood, as I have only just become a teenager. I also like to tell her how my week in high school was; she always gets a kick out of "teen gossip." When it is her turn to share with me I lie on the cough the foot of her bed as if I am in a counselor's office. Kay tells me in great detail of her mid-life in Kansas, her husband Joe is in many of her tales, as is her only son and the farm they lived on. Tonight I ask if she had any pets, and she gives me a toothless grin. I listen to a great story about a dog-named Bully who was very small and lived mostly inside. I am reminded of my best friend's Italian greyhound and ask if she would like if I brought him over some night for us to play with.
"Why yes," she exclaimed. "I think I would like that. Greyhounds have nice hair, not fur. It will not make me cough."
As soon as she said the word cough I knew what was coming. I wish I could close my ears when she does this. It starts deep inside and woks its way up and out. I stand by her side during this attack ready to catch the illness in a cloth when she is through. Luckily there is no blood in her mucus this time. I couldn't believe smoking caused my friend Kay to become so ill. Honestly I became terrified of cigarettes and their consequences, thus I started a club at my school called Teens Against Tobacco.
While washing the diner dishes I can't help but think about the woman I have spent the last eight Friday nights with. He first time I met her I nearly screamed. I had never met someone with out teeth. Even though she was happy to see me I honestly wished she would stop smiling at me. Her beautiful long white hair is falling out due to a rare disorder alopecia. The tubes in her nose scared me. I couldn't believe I was the one my high school counselor chose to care for one of her closest friends who was slowly dying of emphysema. I had only talked to my counselor three times, twice after my favorite grandmother passed away. I told my counselor I loved the elderly and that I wished I had been there to care for my "Nonni" in her last few weeks of life. The next thing I knew, two weeks later, I was meeting Kay Landfried. A woman who looked like she was already dead. My biggest fear is what if she dies while I am here?
I helped Kay pick out four beautiful nightgowns out of a Nemin Marcus catalog nearly a year after we met. They arrived only two days later. She asked me to help her put on the white silk one. This bed gown was my favorite for it reminded me of a simple wedding dress. I knew she ordered theses nighties as a way of looking and feeling beautiful until the end. We talked about the white gown being significant in that when she saw her husband Joe again they would be reminded of their pure love.
Nearing our one-year of being together every Friday night, I found myself sleeping outside her door in my sleeping bag. I was afraid she was going to die in her sleep, I wanted to hear if she was having problems breathing. By this time she had no hair and I had gotten used to her toothless grin. Once I went in to give her orange juice in the morning and she looked so peaceful. I couldn't see her breath and sad very loud "NO. NO. NO!" This woke Kay up with a start. I broke out in tears trying to explain to Kay that I thought she had left me. I sat next to her bed, she put her hand over mine and said every thing she ever wanted to say to me, but the most iportiant thing was "Thank You." We were both heart broken, but knew it had to be.
I called her the next Friday night to tell her I was watching Jeopardy. A man answered the phone; I thought I had the wrong number. He asked me whom I was trying to reach and when I said "Kay Landfred." He didn't answer. In a few moments he sighed and said, "I'm sorry. She left us about an hour ago." I told him I was the one who took care of her on Friday nights. He thanked me ten times, saying every week he talked to his mom on the phone on Saturday afternoons she sounded happy and lively. He said the doctors told him it was amazing how long she held on, six months longer than expected.
I hung up the phone and finessed watching Jeopardy. I felt numb and warm at the same time.
This was my first job; I was only 15 years old.
