Page 16 of On the Rocks

I rolled my eyes. “And on that note, I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t leave me hanging!” she hollered at my back as I made my way down the hallway. I flitted my hands above my head, waving her off as she groaned. “That’s justcruel, Ruby Grace.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I dipped into the first room and introduced myself to a new resident who hadn’t been there before I left for college. His name was Richard, and it wasn’t long after our introductions that he was telling me stories about his days in the distillery and showing me pictures of his late wife.

And just like that, all my wedding planning stress was forgotten.

I lost myself within those walls, surrendering my thoughts and energy to others. I asked to hear about the decades I hadn’t been alive to experience, administered medicine, played board games, fixed hair, applied makeup, told jokes, crocheted, danced — and before I knew it, an entire morning had passed.

It was just the release I’d needed.

“Hey,” Annie said after lunch, eyes softening as she watched me pull a stack of magazines out of my leather Kate Spade bag. “Remember what I told you.”

“I remember.”

She frowned more. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed. She might not even recognize you.”

“I won’t be disappointed, even if she doesn’t,” I promised, balancing the magazines in the crook of my elbow as I smiled. “But, I talked with Jesus this morning, and I think she will.”

Annie smiled, too. “I’m not sure how this place survives without you.”

“Easy,” I said, tapping her nose with my index finger. “They have you.”

I was still smiling and confident as I turned, making my way down to the last room in the left hallway. My eyes scanned the names and decorations on the closed doors, and I nodded to those who peeked out at me from where they watched the TVs in their room or read in their beds. When I reached the door at the very end, the one that had donned a red and white wreath since I was a freshman in high school, I let out a shaky breath, eyes washing over the familiar name in gold above the wreath.

Betty Collins.

A smile touched my lips, memories of the spunky old woman I’d first met years ago resurfacing. Betty was an eighty-nine-year-old woman with a loud, genuine laugh and a birthmark that sprawled across her forehead. She covered it with white, whispy bangs that she’d constantly run her freckled fingertips over as she told me stories about her favorite movie stars.

She was a forgetful old woman, and though half the staff thought she was showing signs of dementia, I knew better. Betty was more in her right mind than half the people my age were. She just hadselectivememory — and also approximately zero patience when it came to people she didn’t care for.

Annie worried that with me being gone so long, she might not remember me.

Again, I knew better.

We’d kept in touch while I’d been gone, writing letters and having the occasional phone call. She’d remembered me just fine when I came back for Christmas break, and I had a feeling she’d never forget me — even if she everwasdiagnosed with dementia.

And I also knew I’d never forget her.

Betty was the first one to ever open my eyes to a world outside of Stratford, to challenge me to take risks, to move passionately and unapologetically through life. “Anyone can lead an ordinary life, child,”she’d said to me one lazy afternoon.“But the best adventures are reserved for the ones brave enough to be extraordinary.”

I inhaled a deep breath, knocking gently before I pushed through the door and into her room.

Betty sat in the same rocking chair she’d been in the last time I left her to go back to UNC. She faced the window, though the curtains were drawn, and she rocked gently, humming the melody of “Good Morning”fromSinging in the Rain. I smiled at the sight of her long, white hair, her magazine collages hung on each and every wall, old movie posters filling any space left between them. When the door latched behind me, Betty stopped rocking, ears perking up.

“Who’s there?”

“Why don’t you turn around and find out, old lady,” I sassed.

Betty’s head snapped around, her eyebrows drawn in like she was offended, but when her eyes settled on me, everything softened as a smile slid into place. “Well, I’ll be damned. Look what the wind blew in.”

I returned her smile, rounding the bed until I could sit on the edge closest to her chair. I leaned forward, folding one hand over hers as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You need to stop frowning so much,” I said, squeezing her wrist. “You’re getting wrinkles.”

“Ha!” she guffawed, squeezing my hand where it rested on her arm. “I smiled too much when I was younger. I’m just trying to reverse the damage.”

I chuckled as her eyes fell to the magazines in my arm.

“Are those for me?”