Guiding Light Care Home was clean and surprisingly inviting. It smelled like air freshener and wax polish, but underneath was the distinct musty scent of age and deterioration. The front desk was manned by a Nymph who immediately greeted Glyma by name.
“Hi, Brenda. How’s Mom doing?” Glyma asked as she signed in.
“It’s been a good day. Night nurse caught her wandering the halls last night, but she was fine. Just a bit disoriented,” theNymph said. “They took her back to bed, and she woke up happy as akrimpi.”
Glyma frowned. “I thought the meds were supposed to stop the sleepwalking?”
“She was awake, I believe,” Brenda said, checking the computer and reading the notes the night nurse must have left. “Yeah, says here that she was trying to find the neighbor’s flat to pick you up.”
A shadow fell over Glyma’s face. “Right. Should we be concerned about that? I don’t want her wandering and falling down in the middle of the night.”
“We’re alerted anytime a patient leaves their room, no matter how late, but there are sedatives the doctor can prescribe to help her sleep more deeply—”
“No, she gets groggy from strong sedatives. She hates it,” Glyma said, and Brenda nodded. “Thanks, anyway, Brenda.”
“Sure thing.”
They traversed the halls, passing nurses and staff, most of them greeting Glyma like they knew her. Quin followed beside and slightly behind Glyma since she didn’t know where they were going. When they came to a stop at an open door with the number 403 posted on it, Glyma took a few deep breaths, casting a quick look Quin’s way, as if to ensure she was still with her. Then she pushed into the room.
It wasn’t a hospital room like Quin expected. The carpet was clean, if not a little worn, and the wallpaper was probably fifty years old. There was a comfy looking bed in the corner, a dresser, and a door to an ensuite bathroom. The rest of the space was taken up with a square table strewn with puzzle pieces. And at the table sat a purple Succubus a few shades lighter than Glyma.
She looked shockingly young to be in a place like this, her violet hair streaked lightly with gray, face creased with laughlines but not overly wrinkled. Glyma’s mother was in her fifties perhaps? Much too young to live here.
“Knock, knock,” Glyma said, knocking on the door so she wouldn’t scare the woman.
Glyma’s mother glanced up from her puzzle, glasses balanced on the tip of her nose where they’d slid down, eyes the same color as her daughter’s. “Oh, hello, dear.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Oh, can’t complain. A bit warm I suppose, but fresh air is always good for the soul,” she said, pointing at the open window above the bed.
Glyma made no attempt to hug her mother. She approached casually, studying the puzzle Ms. Aryti was making. “This is a great puzzle. One of your favorites.”
“My daughter likes puzzles,” Ms. Aryti said absently, turning her attention back to the border piece in her hand.
Glyma flinched. “Yeah, she does. Mind if we sit with you?”
“Suppose there’s room enough. Make yourself at home.” Waving Quin inside, Ms. Aryti looked her up and down, adjusting her glasses. “My, my, aren’t you a looker.”
Covering her snort of amusement as a cough, Glyma sat down on her mother’s left, leaving the chair to the right for Quin.
“Uh, thank you?” she said awkwardly as she sat, and Ms. Aryti smiled toothily at her.
“Don’t worry, dear, you’re much too young for me. But when I see a nice face, I tell them. It’s always nice to receive compliments.”
Glyma chuckled and set her purse on the ground near her feet. “This is my friend, Quin.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Aryti,” Quin said, and Glyma’s mother blinked at her, then burst into raucous laughter.
“Ms. Aryti? She’s right proper, this one.”
“She is, indeed,” Glyma said, tail swaying with humor as she joined in her mother’s laughter.
“Well, that’s fine. Nothing wrong with manners.” She patted Quin’s hand before pointing toward the edge of the table. “Hand me that border piece, won’t you?”
It took Quin three tries to grab the correct border piece Ms. Aryti wanted, but she finally passed the right one over. The puzzle didn’t seem complicated—not that Quin was particularly good at puzzles. She didn’t have the temperament for it—but Glyma’s mother hadn’t made much headway. She scrutinized numerous pieces but was slow to place them. Every piece Ms. Aryti set down without a home, Glyma picked up and slotted into place.
“Good eye,” she said every time, and Glyma brightened.
