“Of course,” I managed to reply, stepping aside to let her in. Her smile walked a fine line between tight-lipped professionalism and warmth, which only served to intimidate me further.
“Would you like some tea, coffee, or water?” I offered, desperate to utter words so I could breathe.
“No, thank you,” she declined politely, glancing around the room with an observant eye.
I wished Gabriella had stayed home from work or that I had invited Richard over to charm our visitor. But it was too late for that now.
Everything will be fine, I thought, even though my insides felt as jiggly as Jell-O. I just need to get through this visit.
Anya scribbled notes onto her electronic clipboard. I wondered what she could possibly be writing down so soon. “You’ve barely been in the house,” I joked nervously. “What’s there to write?”
Anya looked up at me, her expression unreadable. “I can smell the air fresheners you’ve used,” she said, her voice neutral. “While it’s a nice gesture, a strong scent can sometimes cover up potential concerns that may need addressing.”
My stomach dropped. I’d only wanted to make my home inviting and pleasant for her visit, and now it seemed like I’d made a mistake. Again. I bit my lip, trying to suppress my regret.
“Let’s begin with the interview portion of the visit, Ms. Hicks,” Anya continued, shifting her attention to me. “I’ll be asking you a series of questions to ensure your well-being. Do you understand?”
Her tone made me bristle, but I swallowed my pride and nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“Great.”
I gestured for her to sit on my couch and wondered if my cushions were soft enough, firm enough, upholstered well enough. Would they say it presented a knee hazard for being too low, a hip hazard for being too high? My worst-case imagination was in overdrive.
Anya swiped to a new page on her clipboard and readied her stylus.
In this monetary pause, I took the opportunity to interject the speech I’d been practicing nearly all morning while at work. “Miss Bryson—”
“Please, call me Anya.”
I swallowed a little relief. “Anya. I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. When I went to SLAP, I asked for help with my electrical wiring so I can get an oven installed. I’m perfectly stable, mentally and financially—I only had a hiccup in my plans. Somehow, Jennifer—that was her name—fell under the false impression that I’m struggling, being scammed, and incapable of caring for myself. None of that is true.”
Anya nodded and said, “That’s good to hear. I understand that there might have been a miscommunication at some level, but, like me, those of us who serve our senior population would rather err on the side of caution than underserve.”
My translation, despite her politeness:Lady, I’m doing my job.
“I can respect that. I’m just sayin’, I hate to see you wasting your time with me.”
Anya scrunched up her lips, apparently thinking. Then she said, “Ms. Hicks, I understand that you’re single and living alone, correct?”
“I have a tenant,” I said. “And I’m making friends at the library.”
“Yes. But you don’t have family or anyone with a close, non-transactional relationship?”
I didn’t answer the question. “I’m not the only one in the world in my predicament. This whole visit is ridiculous. You should be retraining Jennifer, not investigating me.”
“I understand how this might feel invasive and unnecessary. Or even humiliating,” she stated.
“To say the least,” I agreed. It was a small relief to know she wasn’t reading a script off a screen.
“Sometimes, when people live alone, they don’t recognize the changes that are occurring in them and around them. And loved ones don’t pick up on the signs of, say, early dementia. And how would they know if you were having blackouts or placing yourself in harm’s way if they’re not around? How would anyone know if you’re struggling?”
I gave her a perfectly reasonable answer. “You’d know because I am cogent.”
Anya smirked. “Your vocabulary certainly suggests that you are not experiencing cognitive decline.” She jotted something on her forms.
Yes!
With that, I resolved to let this woman do what my taxes were paying her to do, then let her get along her way, to someone who might actually need her services.
