Crush. Candy. Corpse. (3 page)

I stared at the attendant, a tiny woman with hair way too dark for her pale complexion. Accidental goth. I know she would be happier if I could tone down that black to a chestnut and maybe add some highlights. And if she were happier, maybe Fred could have had his choice of suppers.

Suddenly, something clattered to the floor and I looked towards the noise. A red bicycle helmet spun across the room. A tall kid who looked about my age chased after it. That helmet probably accounted for his stick-up blond hair. Once he scooped it up, he joined a lady at another table.

“Meatloaf, Grandma. Your favourite!” he said to her as the cafeteria goth set down another tray. He beamed at her as he helped her spoon some of her supper up. What fun he seemed to be having.

How come I wasn’t having any? I frowned as I concentrated on feeding Johann. One way or the other I was going to get through my forty hours. Despite the craziness surrounding me, I would get this meal into Johann and show everyone how well I could do at this placement. One spoonful, then another, then another. I was going to get it in him and write about it for my A in English. He clenched his mouth shut now. “Come on.” I nudged his lips with a spoon. Were his eyes drooping? He couldn’t fall asleep on me yet. He’d hardly eaten anything on his plate.

“
Ich liebe dich
,” I called out in desperation. I didn’t even care that he wasn’t my type.

His eyes and mouth popped open and I shoved another mouthful into him.

“Isn’t he a little old for you?” the scrawny kid called. “Do you want my phone number, instead?”

“As if!” I rolled my eyes. “Have some apple juice, Johann.” I tipped the glass and some trickled down the sides of his mouth.

Hek, hek, hek
. He began coughing. From my St. John Ambulance course I knew he was fine. As long as his colour remained normal and he could make a noise, he could breathe. I gave him another sip but it didn’t help.
Hek, hek, hek.

From out of nowhere the supervisor, Mrs. Johnson, rushed at me. “Slower, slower! Can’t you see the poor man is choking!”

I pulled the cup away. She wasn’t exactly yelling, but definitely scolding with a stiff tone, kind of the way my mother talked to me sometimes. My cheeks burned. Too bad, for a moment there I’d been brilliant.

“Does the defence have any questions for Mr. Brooks?”

My lawyer, Michael McCann, stands up, straightening his robe behind him. “Thank you, Your Honour, yes,” he says to the judge and then turns to the witness stand. “Mr. Brooks, from your classroom discussions and Sonja’s volunteer journal, can you explain how the position was working out for her?”

Mr. Brooks nods. “At first, I didn’t think she’d go back because of the odour issues. I knew she was sensitive to smells when after the second class she’d asked me privately to switch seats because of a student’s perspiration problem.” Mr. Brooks struggles for a second. “I thought the seniors in that part of the residence might prove too upsetting for her. But I was pleasantly surprised. Not only did she return, but I got the impression that she was almost enjoying her placement.”

My lawyer looks down at his binder of notes, flipping a page over. “And back to that first volunteer journal entry, how do you explain why she returned if she didn’t truly believe that the odour was a temporary problem?”

Mr. Brooks pulls at the knot of his tie again with one finger and frowns. “I don’t know. I just thought she reached for something bigger inside herself and forced herself to overcome her aversion. It’s what we hope for when we assign students volunteer work — that they become better people.”

My lawyer turns to the jury and repeats in a louder voice, “Becoming better people . . . No further questions.” He sits down again.

A few of them nod and the lady in the front smiles. He’s scored some points for me, I can tell.

The buzzard rises. “The Crown calls to the stand Katherine Filmore.”

Now what can she possibly know about the events of that day? And it has to be bad stuff or the Crown wouldn’t use her as a witness.

Katherine walks up to the witness box and gets sworn in. Occupation? “Receptionist,” she tells everyone. She’s medium old and usually wears half glasses when she mans the front desk at Paradise Manor. Today she’s specless and sports a bright silk scarf around her neck.

I barely talked to the lady — except when she was reminding me about the rules, which I tried to follow most of the time. Why don’t they check the rest of my journal entries instead of talking to her? They have them all. They would learn more about me that way.

The Third Visit — thirty-four hours left

Next visit I arrived early, signed in, and washed my hands. Then I used the code to open the lockup unit and walked in by myself. I smiled and said hello to all the seniors I met. I chatted with a few, helped some with basic grooming, and, as usual, took Mr. Schwartz into the dining room where we celebrated Fred, Jeannette, Susan, and Helen’s birthdays.

Donovan couldn’t drive me that day. At lunch he told me he had detention, so I texted my brother who answered,
Busy. Use bus.
xoxoxo.
Drat, he was the one person I could always rely on. Now how was I supposed to get to Paradise Manor on time? Honestly.

Then, just before last period, Donovan caught me at my locker and asked if I wanted to shop for my prom dress.

“No, Donny. I’ve got my volunteer work today. Remember?”

He put his arm around my waist. “Cut it short and I’ll come get you. We can spend a couple hours together.”

“Not today.” I shrugged away. “I have to be at Mom’s office by seven tonight or she’ll figure out I’m still seeing you.”

Donovan squinted at me and frowned. Suddenly, he smiled at someone walking behind me. I turned to see. Summer. A senior (not the grey-haired kind) with long hair and legs. She smiled back.

How could she not? Donovan’s eyes are this smoky brown . . .

I elbowed him. “Tomorrow or the next day we can go shopping. We just can’t hang together after school today.”

He caught my chin in his hand. “You don’t have to do your volunteer work this year just because Brooks is forcing you to journal.”

I hesitated half a second, distracted by his fingers touching my neck. “Yeah, I do. And I have to do well, too, not like Some People.” I pulled away. It was always so hard to do the right thing around Donovan. I found myself explaining. “Mom said I could work at Salon Teo next year if my grades were good.” Dream eyes or not, he couldn’t wreck this for me. He caught my arms and pulled me close. Then he kissed me, long and slow so I couldn’t breathe for a moment. That made me late for class, but it still didn’t change my mind.

Last period I had Mr. Brooks, so I asked if I could leave before the bell to get the 3:20 bus and he let me. I wasn’t looking forward to working around Mrs. Johnson — clearly she didn’t like me — but as I arrived at Paradise Manor that tall kid rode up on his bicycle, which was red like his helmet. The brightness of the colour perked me up and I waved at him.

He took off his helmet. His hair was standing up, kind of like a rooster’s comb. “Hi there. I’m Cole . . . Cole Demers, Helen’s grandson. You’re that new volunteer.” He grinned as he held out the hand with the helmet in it. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to shake it. “The one who’s in love with Johann.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” I shook my head. “I’m Sonja Ehret. My friends call me Sunny.” I looked into his eyes, which were the nicest thing about him. They were a golden caramel colour and they seemed friendly.

“Could you just hold onto that while I lock up my bike?”

“Sure.” My fingers itched to pat down his hair. “Um, do you want to borrow some product?” I asked when he straightened and began walking with me.

“Excuse me?”

“For your hair. I have some Smooth in my purse.”

“Smooth?”

“You know, it’s that new hair de-staticking stuff. I need to use it all the time. School makes me tense . . . and then my hair just snaps.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay.” He patted his own head but only some of the hair flattened. He took back his helmet. “I like my hair to snap.” He walked quickly ahead.

“Wait up!” I followed him into the building.

“Hi, Mrs. Johnson,” he called.

She looked up from her desk behind the counter, smiled, and waved at him.

“I’m here too!” I called. “Remember? Sonja Ehret?”

She raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Teacher’s pet,” I grumbled at Cole. I took a big inhale of my coffee-bean necklace.

“I don’t care about any ‘teacher.’” He frowned as he signed the guest log. “I’m here to look after my grandmother. And I’m nice to everyone so that they will be good to her when I leave.”

Grouch
, I thought and quickly signed in after him as he keyed in the code to unlock the door to the Alzheimer’s unit.

The coffee-bean aroma filtered out most of the meatier smell of supper. My necklace was a lifesaver.

Ahead, Marlene and Fred trudged along together heading right for us. Cole leaned back on the door so it would close faster.

“Hold it open!” Fred called to us. “They’ve changed something.”

“We need bread,” Marlene added, reaching one hand out.

Blocking the door still, Cole took her hand and gently turned her back the way they had come.

I couldn’t stand it anymore: same old sweatpants, this time grey and stained with something orange down the front. “Hi, Fred. Do you mind?” I crouched down and untucked his sweatpant leg from his sock.

“Is that you Diane?” He looked down at me, head tilted.

“No, I’m Sunny.”

“Darn. I wish you were Diane.”

Cole smirked at this one.
Moron.

I smiled and tried to sound cheery. “Sorry to disappoint you. Is Diane your daughter?”

“Yes. I’m supposed to go with her today and buy a part for my car.”

Cole still watched me. I’d show him just how patient and friendly I could be. “If you could tell me what part, I bet my dad could help me get it for you.”

From the side of my eye, I noticed a quick headshake from Cole.

Fred nodded, but then he frowned and his brow furrowed. His eyes moved from side to side quickly like he was looking for a clue to the puzzle in his head.

Too late, I understood my mistake. Playing along with his delusion seemed to have woken him from some peaceful spell. I didn’t know what to do.

Marlene rescued us both. “We better keep going,” she said, without raising her head. “Stores are going to close.”

Incident immediately forgotten, Fred’s face smoothed as he looked down and continued along the hall with her.

Another inmate with straggly grey hair sat near a window rocking a naked plastic doll in her arms.

“Hi, Susan,” Cole called. “How’s the baby?”

Susan just smiled and rocked it some more. She looked happy, like a new mom. It was too weird.

“
Guten tag
, Johann,” I said when I saw Mr. Schwartz. But he didn’t look up. His eyes were open but he still seemed asleep. “I’m going to feed you dinner today, okay?” I grabbed hold of his wheelchair handles and pushed.

“Hey, Grandma,” Cole called out and rushed to a woman with a walker. Even slightly stooped over the handlebars, she looked tall like Cole and she had his golden eyes. Only hers looked dazed. He gave her a kiss and a hug and she smiled.

“You brought your mother.” She turned to me. “Nice colour, Claudine. Can you get the hairdresser to do that for me?”

“It’s Sunny,” I corrected her, deciding I couldn’t humour the residents too much. Look how that had confused Fred.

“Sunny is it, Claudine? Let’s go for a walk then.” His grandma immediately moved towards the glass door that opened onto a courtyard.

“No, Grandma. This is the new volunteer and her
name
is Sunny.” Cole winked at me as he caught her elbow and tugged her back. “It’s almost suppertime. Maybe we’ll walk later. Come to the dining room with us.”

I smiled when she said hello the second time.

From around the next corner Jeannette shuffled behind her walker towards us. “Hello there, Gorgeous. What a pretty blouse!”

I looked down at my green V-necked tee. “Thank you, Jeannette. Coming to supper?”

“Well yes. It is my birthday.” She grinned as she stepped alongside us, and I wondered if she was trying to put one over on me. Cole’s grandma wheeled along at his side.

I pushed Johann’s chair into the dining room to his usual spot. A man with shaggy black hair and sideburns was setting up some sound equipment in the corner. He wore a flashy white jumpsuit that looked like it might split when he bent over to plug his microphone in.

“Hello. Here, put this on.” Gillian held out some paper party hats.

Cole grabbed one and slipped the elastic around his chin, placing the cone over his ruffled hair. It was almost an improvement.

I stared at the polka-dotted one she offered me. I hate those hats. They don’t sit right, they never fit, the elastic under your neck pinches, and frankly, I spend a lot of time straightening my hair to make it look good. I don’t want to wreck it.

“Go on, it’s Jeannette, Susan, and my grandma’s birthday. We have to celebrate.” Cole’s eyes, friendly as they seemed, watched me. Was I measuring up?

I shook my head and looked around the room at the old people, sitting with their bodies bent over the tables. Some wore hats, some didn’t. I wondered if they even had a say. I sighed. “All these birthdays in one day. Guess that makes this party really special.” I took the hat and placed it over my head, pulling the elastic around my chin.

Cole smiled at me and winked. “That should keep your hair from snapping.”

The shaggy-haired dude in the corner called into his microphone, “Thank you, thank you very much.” Then he began singing an old Elvis song. “Wise men say . . .”

A pretty dismal birthday party if you asked me. One silver, heart-shaped Happy Birthday balloon in the centre of the room and a fairly ordinary meal — chicken or fish sticks with macaroni and beets. I spooned a puddle of red into Johann, then a little brown. He wouldn’t take the beige.

“What
is
this?” I asked out loud of no one in particular. Johann kept his lips solidly wedged together.

“That’s a dinner roll put through the blender.” Cole lifted his eyebrows and nodded. “Try some. Tastes exactly the same.”

“No thank you.” The shaggy-haired guy strummed and sang but everyone just chewed and swallowed, same as always. I gestured at the sleepy old people around us. “No one seems to be enjoying Elvis.”

“Oh no?” Cole suddenly threw his arms open wide and sang along, loud and somewhat flat, looking my way as though he was serenading. “But I . . . can’t . . . help . . . falling in love . . . with . . . you.”

I couldn’t help blushing. “You’re an idiot.”

When the old people finished their meals, the goth cafeteria worker and a friend brought out a cake. None of the residents sang, only Elvis, the cafeteria workers, Cole, and me. “Happy birthday dear Jeannette, Susan, Fred, and Helen. Happy birthday to you.”

No one blew out any candles, nor did anyone get any presents. “So many people born on the same day, what a coincidence.” I tasted the cake. It was crumbly and dry and not very sweet.

“Only Jeannette really. They celebrate everyone’s birthdays for the whole month today.” Cole stuck out his tongue. It was covered in crumbs. “Dietetic. Yuck.”

“So they don’t even get to celebrate their own day. That’s sad.” I pushed my cake plate away.

“Yup.”

“I’d like to get Jeannette a present. The others, too.”

“You don’t have to, they won’t know.”

Elvis started up another song. “Suspicious Minds” it was called.

“Interesting choice,” I said, gesturing with my head to him.

“Sing with me,” Cole said. “‘We can’t go on together . . .”

I rolled my eyes but it didn’t stop Cole.

The song ended. “He takes requests,” Cole said. “Don’t you, Elvis?”

“Uh huh. What would you like, pretty lady?”

For you to stop playing
seemed mean. Instead I shrugged. Trouble was, none of the hip hop I liked was really for this crowd. Nor could this dude probably play it.

I looked around at all the grey heads, some nodding as they chewed their safety cake. I watched Cole dab at his grandmother’s chin with a napkin. It all made me think of Omi. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could be caring for her the way Cole did for his grandmother? And then her favourite song came to me.