1
Tallus
“Idon’t think he’ll be joining us.” My gaze barely strayed from Diem as I spoke to Aaron Daily, the thirty-something-year-old event coordinator from Evergreen Estate.
My burly six-and-a-half-foot-tall, two-hundred-and-sixty-pound boyfriend, who carried a metric ton of childhood trauma on his oversized shoulders and couldn’t help scowling at everyone who so much as said hello to him, was never more at home than on the days he visited his ninety-two-year-old grandmother at the nursing home.
He smiled without strain. His muscles liquified, and he talked freely as though he was born with a story to tell. The lockjaw I’d been greasing for over a year and a half didn’t exist under this roof, and I struggled to look away, mystified that this was the same man who shared my bed every night, whose tongue knotted when he wanted to express complex emotions.
Diem sat on a dated floral couch, his shins crunched against a laminate coffee table strewn with fishing and knitting magazines, Echoobediently at his side. Hazel, his grandmother, who suffered from late-stage dementia and couldn’t remember who he was half the time, sat beside him, shaking a trembling finger in Echo’s face, telling her to sit as she held a dog biscuit aloft.
The poor dog was probably thinking,I am sitting, you crazy woman. I’ve been sitting for five freaking minutes. Give me the treat already.
Three other Evergreen Estate residents looked on as though this was the best entertainment they’d seen in a decade. A liver-spotted man in a wheelchair with a crocheted blanket draped over his knee studied the exchange so intently someone might think it was the final seconds of a horse race he’d bet his entire savings on. Every so often, and for reasons I couldn’t discern, the focused gentleman let out a quietwoof.
A plump granny in a beige nightgown, reminiscent ofLittle House on the Prairie,admonished Hazel, informing her she was “Doing it all wrong.” The woman extended her wrinkled hand, demanding, “Giver here. I’ll show ya how it’s done.”
Hazel ignored her, or maybe didn’t hear. God only knew in this place.
Diem patted the impatient woman’s knee and promised she could have a turn in a minute.
The third onlooker sat on Diem’s other side, a shriveled and bony lady with thick-lensed glasses and cotton-fluff hair who was more interested in Diem than dog tricks. I couldn’t blame her. He was eye-catching.
Every time my boyfriend glanced in her direction, she beamed—short a few teeth—and rubbed his arm, telling him, “You’re a big boy. I like big boys. My Alan was a big boy too, but he’s dead and gone now, so don’t you worry. He won’t be no trouble.” She added a wink.
Diem’s cheeks flamed, and he whipped his gaze away, muttering, “She’s sitting, Nana. Give her the treat.”
When Echo licked the biscuit from Hazel’s hand, Nana squealed like a schoolgirl, retracting her fingers and wiping them on her slacks. “She got me, Boone. Did you see that? Darn near took my fingers off.”
Boone. Always Boone. Never Diem anymore, much to his dismay.
My boyfriend no longer openly fretted over her confusion. Deep down, I knew it broke his heart. He begrudgingly plowed forward, taking what he could get of the time he had left with his Nana, no matter who he had to be.
With Hazel’s girlish glee, my often ornery and perpetually snarly boyfriend smiled. It lit up his face in a way I rarely saw. Witnessing their connection warmed my heart.
“I need another.” Hazel held out her hand, demanding a biscuit.
“Can someone else have a turn, Nana?”
“No. Me again.”
“Last one, then we’ll let Ethel try.”
Ethel, the woman in the nightgown, jittered and clapped her hands.
For whatever reason, among the seniors at Evergreen and with Echo at his side for support, Diem’s stress took a vacation. He was calm. At peace. I dare say he was happy.
“Is it always like this when he visits?” I asked the coordinator, not specifying what I meant.
“No. Hazel’s having a good day today. It’s nice when she’s able to be in the common room. She can visit with the other residents. Socialization is important, but not always possible with her dementia. Everyone enjoys Echo’s company, too, so it’s a nice treat for them all.”
Aaron hugged a tablet and seemed anxious to get on with business. The man’s outfit was sublime, and I suspected the price tag would make me wheeze. Since the day I’d begun party arrangements, he’dshown me a lot of attention. Flirty attention. I suspected knowing I was dating Diem put a stick in his craw. His problem. Not mine. Aaron didn’t understand the profundity of the moment.
It was nice to hear about Hazel having good days, but I had been referring to Diem’s happiness, his relaxed state of being, his smiling eyes, and the way he grew flustered every time the lady with the glasses winked suggestively, but how would Aaron know what I meant? He didn’t live with Diem.
Like everyone else in the world, he judged my boyfriend based on what he saw on the outside. He didn’t know the beautiful man underneath. He didn’t see the drastic contrast between visits with Nana and Diem’s everyday life, where he fought an endless war with anxiety, stress, addiction, and PTSD. Where smiles were priceless gifts I hoarded.
I let it go.