Page 14 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Olive

T ripp looks over at me and his jaw drops. He then clears his throat, trying to quickly recover.

“This is Olive, the bar manager,” he tells the man he’s standing with, and then looks at me. “I am going to show Mr. Cronline around.”

The two of them completely ignore Rob’s presence, which is impossible because he’s huge. It instantly makes me dislike the situation. Tripp, I expect this from. But for this stranger to come into our kitchen and not even acknowledge someone else in the room makes anger bloom in me.

The old, lanky gentleman leans towards me with an eerie salesman smile. “Hi, little lady. I’m Ted Cronline with B he would be livid.

I don’t want Rob to lose his cool and get fired.

There is a bigger fish to fry right now.

I stretch my arms out and try to shake off the emotions running through me.

Tripp is the bane of my existence right now.

I loathe him, and I will never understand why he has always been so nasty.

When he moved out of state, he was a stockbroker.

Jane always said he was doing well and busy with his job.

So something obviously didn’t pan out as far as I can tell.

I don’t think he would come back to Clairesville unless he was out of options.

He has always treated the bar like a chore.

Something to get over with as fast as he can, forget about and move on to the next thing.

I could never look at Whiskey Jane’s that way. It’s more of a home to me than my apartment. It’s the only sense of stability I’ve ever had in life.

I look behind me to make sure the road is clear before backing my big purple car out of the parking spot. I’m thankful she was at least reliable today. I don’t think I can take anything else bad happening right now.

At least my face matches my car.

Too soon?

Twenty minutes later, I pull up to the memory care facility, Hills Pointe, that Jane lives at now.

I park my car in one of the front spots, next to the small man-made pond with ducks floating around.

Peering at myself in the mirror quickly, I see how bad my face looks, even with makeup.

I search through my tote until I find my large knock off Ray-Bans to try and distract from my black eyes and nose swelling.

When I get out of my car, I see a bush of magenta petunias and do a quick glance around before I run over and pull a handful of flowers off the plant.

I stuff them in my purse like I just robbed a bank and walk to the entrance.

Jane deserves to have something beautiful to look at and petunias are her favorite flower.

The memory care facility has a sterile feel to it.

The walls are drab with generic landscape paintings of the ocean and shells and there’s always a lingering scent of urine in the air.

I hate that she’s here. I’m not her family, though; Tripp is.

Where she lives is his choice since he’s her only living relative.

I walk past the front desk, greeting the receptionist who is always smacking gum around in her mouth, but she barely acknowledges me over her game of Candy Crush.

Guess I didn’t even need the glasses. I walk the route I have done so many times in the past few years: down the hall, turn left, go past the cafe, turn left again, three doors down, and then arrive in front of Jane’s room.

The door is always open; all the patients’ doors are.

I knock three times and lift the sunglasses off my eyes as I walk in.

Jane is sitting in her favorite blue velvet chair in front of the TV. She has always been a stylish queen and though her health has declined, her fashion has remained. It’s interesting how she has lost many of her core memories at this point but still holds onto her strong taste without knowing it.

One time a new nurse on the floor tried to make her wear a hospital gown temporarily after she helped bathe her and Jane threw a fit. As she swatted the nurse away, she yelled, “Get that shit away from me, I’m not an old lady!” The poor nurse was so confused.

Luckily, in her moments of lucidity, one of the other nurses told Jane the story while joking with her. Instantly, Jane demanded to see the new nurse so she could profusely apologize. The new nurse, Jojo, and Jane are thick as thieves now.

Jane is wearing head-to-toe sparkles today: a glittery teal top with spandex silver leggings, accompanied by big chunky beaded earrings. I can’t help but giggle to myself when I see Jane has on pink bunny slippers, though. A queen of comfort.

I walk up to her and place my hand on her arm.

“Hi, Jane!” I say, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can, but I am anxiously waiting to see if she recognizes me today or not.

She looks up at me and says, “Hey, Olive, you look like shit.”

I blow out the breath I had been holding and sit across from her on a stool. “Yeah, well you should see the other guy,” I tease.

Then, I begin to recount the story of what happened last night, making sure to include every detail because I know she gets bored sitting around here all day.

She smiles and laughs along as I describe the three guys.

She asks all about their appearances, and I quickly describe them as attractive, not making a big deal about it.

I make sure not to mention that the last guy made me nervous in a way that men never do. He was beautiful.

Jane looks at me for a long time after I finish talking. It feels like minutes have passed when she finally says, “When is Tripp coming to town?”

I can see she’s starting to slip into an episode, which saddens me, but I don’t want her to get confused.

“He will be coming soon!” I tell her enthusiastically.

I never tell her how I really feel about her son; I don’t want her to worry about me or her bar while she sits here, hopeless. On the days that she remembers well, I want her to be happy, not stressed.

“The bar is doing great! Rick and Johnny ask about you all the time. I’m sure they will be paying you a visit soon.”

She brushes off the comment, not really acknowledging me. I can tell she’s slipping further away, so I say, “Let’s watch something together!” and click on her favorite show, 90 Day Fiancé .

We have been watching TV for an hour when Jane lets out a hacking cough.

I hurry to find her some water. A few months ago, Jane got pneumonia from a bad cold.

Due to her Alzheimer’s, she hasn’t been able to care for herself like someone normally would when they are sick.

It was scary at first and I spent many mornings before work sitting with her, always trying to help her drink broth or explain to her how to blow her nose.

On the days where her mind isn’t coherent, it's like teaching a child how to do things for the first time. She gets really frustrated with herself and it’s difficult to watch a woman who was once so strong and independent deteriorate before my eyes.

We are all vulnerable when we get older.

It doesn’t matter who we were in our youth.

Everyone gets to a point where we can’t take care of ourselves anymore and that's hard to cope with.

I lean down and hand her a water bottle I found in her black mini fridge. She takes a long sip and her cough clears for a moment. I push back her grey hair and give her a small kiss on the forehead as she drinks more.

After she’s done, Jane looks up at me, grabs my hand, and brings it to her cheek. “Thank you, my dear,” she whispers.

“There’s no one more important to me in the world,” I tell her, meaning it with all sincerity. Jane gave me the stability that my mom never could. Without her hiring me, I never would have been able to move out on my own and create a healthy routine for my life. I owe a lot to her.

Jane lets out a yawn and I know all the coughing has made her weak.

“I’m going to head out so you can nap. I’ve got a lot of laundry to do at home,” I let her know, and she nods and leans her head against the chair, still looking up at me.

“I don’t ever want to forget you,” she says, with tears in her eyes.

I will never tell her that there are many days where she already has.

“Are you kidding me?” I respond playfully. “I won’t let you forget me. I will harass you until you remember. Don’t you worry!”

I give her a smile.

She grins back. “Okay, dear, thanks for coming to see me. I love you.”

I hug her and head towards the door, turning back for one last look to see her still watching me. I wave again. “I’ll come see you next day I'm off. I promise.”

With that, I walk out to the parking lot and hold back the tears until I shut my car door.

Hugging myself, I hold in a sob, wishing Jane never got sick. My time with her is slipping through my fingers and I’m terrified.

After a moment, I lay my head on my steering wheel, accepting the fact that this is the way our relationship will be. Her slowly getting worse and me watching it happen.

Suddenly, I hear my phone vibrating and lift my head up. I grab it out of my tote and click on the screen to see two text notifications from Rob.

I know why Tripp had that man here.

He just told me he’s going to sell the bar.

MOTHERF—