–Leah: Aspen’s grandfather is at the Orange Care Center. It’s a very nice place. A friend’s mother-in-law was there. That place costs an arm and a leg, though. Which explains why Aspen was interested in this particular benefit.
Leah’s not generally chatty, but if it’s a topic she’s an expert on, she grows more animated. Or maybe she’s offering some extra information because she wants to cozy up to me. She got divorced last year, and has made it clear that she would love a quick fling. I pretend not to notice—it would complicate things for me to screw somebody from HR.
“I have another appointment,” I tell Larry. “You can update the files and let Aspen know that I’m not coming back in. Make sure she leaves right at five.”
“Of course.” He nods and heads toward his car. He’s been extra polite to the admin staff after the team-building exercise. It’s too bad he couldn’t learn to be decent on his own without having to put his entire team through that torture.
I look up the nursing home’s address. The website indicates that visitors are welcome with a resident’s approval.
Seeing Kenny sounds like a great idea, especially since Aspen wouldn’t tell me anything about herself when I asked. Kenny didn’t seem wholly together, but that might work to my advantage. He might say things that he shouldn’t. Once I have my curiosity satisfied about Aspen, I won’t be thinking about her all the time anymore. My dick certainly won’t get hard at the thought of her, either.
Sex with her is a problem. She can use it against me, just like she used it to manipulate my feelings fourteen years ago.
You’re wasting your time. Why do you care about her circumstances, anyway? HR already vetted her.
I ignored the small voice. I’m not doing this because I care about her. This is due diligence. Unless I have all the facts, I won’t be able to do what is necessary. Namely, ensuring that she quits on her own. I want her gone before she does anything else to mess with what’s left of my sanity.
The Orange Care Center is over two hours away from downtown in rush-hour traffic. It proves to be located on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It has a modest garden with average landscaping. The only really eye-catching things are the sunflowers, which are brilliantly yellow, and the fact that the building is painted the same bright hue. I thought it would be orange, like the name implies.
I walk inside and see a bottle blonde with a silver ring through her left eyebrow, and a middle-aged Asian behind the counter. “Hi,” the man says with a smile. His nametag readsGi-Hoon Jung. “How can I help you?”
I give him my most charming smile. It’s the kind of smile that puts people at ease and inspires confidence and trust. It also helps that I’m in a Brioni suit, designed to exude power and authority. “Hello. My name is Grant Lasker, and I’m here to visit Kenny Hughes.”
He beams. “Yes, of course. He’s such a fabulous guy. Is it all right if I check your ID and scan you into our visitor system?”
“By all means.” I give him my driver’s license.
He looks at it, then uses his smartphone to take a photo. “I just need you to sign on the screen here.”
The screen is pre-filled with an image of my ID, along with the date, time and person I’m visiting. I scrawl my name with my index finger in the rectangle at the bottom.
“Let me go check with the memory unit. Sometimes Kenny’s in a great mood, but sometimes he’s not interested in seeing anyone.” Gi-Hoon makes an apologetic face. “Good days, bad days.”
I try to hide my surprise. It never crossed my mind that I might not be able to see Kenny. Or that he could be having a “bad day.” Just how awful is it that the center won’t let him see anyone?
While Gi-Hoon checks, I look around the area. On the other side of the door behind the counter are some old people. They’re watching TV and laughing. A few of them are playing cards. Kenny doesn’t seem to be with them.
Gi-Hoon returns. “He says he would like to see you. He seems to be in a great mood.”
“Thank you.”Thank God I didn’t waste four hours coming out here.“I’ll call first next time.”
“That would be fine, but it doesn’t really guarantee anything. His mood changes quite rapidly sometimes.” Gi-Hoon is apologetic again. “Anyway, the memory unit is on the third floor,” he says. “Just take the elevator over there. Kenny’s in the breakroom.”
I take the elevator up and step out into the memory unit, which feels a little off. Not because there’s anything wrong with the place. There’s just something sad about a big room being so full of old people, all of whom are probably far from their families. Aspen has to be living closer to the office than here. Otherwise, her commute would be atrocious.
How often does she come by? Probably not every day. And even if she wanted to, she couldn’t when I was making her work until midnight. Guilt needles me, and I take a steadying breath.I didn’t know, and she didn’t tell me.She never tells me anything. She just does whatever she wants, not caring about how I’m going to feel when I find out about it.
She couldn’t have made clearer how little she cares about my feelings when she sold my gifts fourteen years ago. A lousy two hundred K was more important.
I walk through the double doors into the memory unit. An electric chime sounds. Somebody from the reception desk looks up, notes me and then looks down again, focusing on paperwork.
I walk down the hall. A woman wanders by, her eyes vague. A staff member is with her, talking in a low voice. It’s not clear whether the woman hears him or not. I hope Kenny isn’t that far gone—it’d be sad to see a man who used to be so vibrant reduced to that.
I reach the breakroom, which has a huge TV. Kenny is in a small plastic chair, his eyes on the screen. He laughs occasionally, although I’m not sure what’s so funny. Nobody is joking with him, and the TV is showing a crime drama.
I walk up to him. “Kenny? Sir?”
Slowly, he turns to me. His eyes focus, and a smile splits his face. “Zack.”
