Page 28 of Too Old for This

Twenty miles outside of Baycliff, the road gets long and winding, and there are trees everywhere. It feels like I’m driving to the end of the earth. Which might be appropriate. When the buildings come into view, they remind me of a condo development. Or a hospital.

The lobby of the main building looks like it belongs in an expensive hotel. Thick carpets, low lighting, a roaring fireplace, and a hushed tone. No one speaks loudly in here; the noise is soaked right up.

“Welcome to Oak Manor,” a woman says. She is middle-aged, wearing a simple wrap dress and beige heels. “How may I help you?”

“I have an appointment. Lottie Jones.”

“Right this way.”

She leads me down a hall and into a large office with a desk on one side and a sitting area on the other. Now I am greeted by a man. He is also middle-aged, or maybe a bit above. It’s so hard to know where the dividing line is.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs.Jones. I’m Tom Wallace.”

“Please, call me Lottie. And thank you so much for seeing me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He gestures to a velvet chair. It’s thicker and plusher than mine. “Why don’t we talk for a little bit? Tell me what brings you to Oak Manor Senior Living.”

—

If I don’t want to die in my house and leave behind a rotting corpse, then I have to consider moving to a place like this. That’s something I thought about during Kelsie’s funeral and something I think about now, during the tour. Is this where I want to die?

The facilities at Oak Manor are amazing. Dining hall, lounges, a pool, a workout room, medical offices. And they have classes that range from pottery to water aerobics. They also have book clubs, chess clubs, movie clubs, even one for reality TV.

The individual living units are like condos, available with one bedroom or two. Simple floor plans, single-level living, and windows with views. There are rooms with balconies, patios, or neither. It depends on how much you’re willing to spend.

After the tour, Tom hands me the price sheet. I try my best not to react. The units aren’t that expensive, all things considered. The real cost is the fee that covers all the activities, services, food, and cleaning. Thousands of dollars each month.

“I’m going to think about it,” I say.

“And you should. If you have any questions, please feel free to call. My cell number is on the card.”

Bet Tom will call me if I don’t get in touch with him.

The walk back to the car feels long and laborious, as if I’ve hit my physical limit for the day.

If I lived here, I wouldn’t leave very often.

Everything I need is on-site. Maybe I would even stop attending church as often.

It’s happened before, with a few of the elderly parishioners who have “gone to the Manor.” Sometimes we never see them again.

But it would be an easy life. A relaxing life. And if the police ever came calling, they would find a woman without much memory left. That’s exactly how I would act until it wasn’t an act.

The money, though. That’s the big sticking point, because it depends on how much I could get for the house and how many years I have left.

It all comes down to this: When am I going to die?

The average lifespan for a woman in this country is around seventy-nine years. Can I afford Oak Manor for four years? And what happens if I beat that average?

Ugly. These questions are ugly, and I can’t avoid them any longer.

—

When I’m done at Oak Manor, I drive across town to the second place on my list, Serenity Village. Dana Ferris, the sales director, gives me a tour of the facilities.

“And over here is our dining hall,” she says.

It’s nice enough. Functional, like a family restaurant with tables and booths and lots of windows. If I hadn’t seen Oak Manor yet, I probably would have a higher opinion of it. I shouldn’t have toured the most expensive place first.

There’s nothing wrong with Serenity Village. Everything is neat and clean, the common areas are spacious and well-appointed, and the individual units aren’t much different from the ones at Oak Manor.

But Oak Manor felt like it had more to offer, both in services and aesthetics.

At Serenity, there is no velvet anywhere.

No plush rugs or thick drapes. Everything is beige and eggshell, with patterned carpets to hide the stains.

It looks generic, smells sterile, and feels exactly like what it is: a place for old people.

Oak Manor was better at hiding that part.

Serenity is still expensive, but more in line with what I can probably afford. I won’t know for sure until my house is appraised.

“The dining hall looks nice,” I say.

Dana smiles and talks about the elevators and the lack of stairs in the individual units, no doubt because I am using my cane.

She leads me down another hall to one of the lounges, where there are several seating areas, TV screens, and shelves stacked with books and games.

Four old men sit at a table playing cards.

In the middle, there’s a stack of poker chips.

“We don’t allow gambling for money,” Dana says. “It’s all just for fun.”

I doubt that. This place is filled with adults , not children.

Another big difference between Oak Manor and Serenity Village is the medical care. Oak Manor has a full-time clinic with a doctor on staff. Serenity Village has a part-time nurse practitioner.

“What’s the average age of your residents?” I ask.

“Seventy-eight.”

It was about the same at Oak Manor, which means I would be one of the younger people here. That’s something I haven’t been for a long time, and I get a weird sense of pleasure from it. The desire to be young never goes away.

Before I leave, Dana gives me a stack of brochures and a price list for the units and fees.

“If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call,” she says. “I know this is a very big decision, so if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“Thank you. I will.”

On the drive home, numbers swirl around in my head. Last night, I tried to calculate how long I’d be able to stay at Oak Manor. If I sold the house, four years wouldn’t be a problem. More than that means I would have to move out and go somewhere else.

I wonder how often that happens. How many people move into a place like Oak Manor and have to leave when they can no longer pay the bill? At Serenity Village, I would be able to stay longer, but how much longer is the real question.