Jake Understood
Page 69“So, how long have you lived here?”
“A couple of years. It’s hard to get into one of these state funded homes, so I jumped at the chance. It’s not exactly the best fit for me. Most of the people here have behavioral challenges, but I need the assistance with daily living. And believe me, being here definitely helps me realize that there are people with way bigger issues than mine. It’s sort of like the opposite of ‘the grass is greener.’ We all have crosses to bear. They’re just different.”
“That’s funny. My husband says that same exact thing, that everyone has a cross.”
“Your husband’s a wise man. And probably damn lucky, too.”
I could see myself smiling in the reflection of his sunglasses.
“Thank you.” The chair skidded against the floor as I got up. “Well, I should get back to work. It was really nice meeting you.”
As I started to walk away, his voice stopped me. “Hey, Niashari. Whatever’s bothering you, it will be okay, you know.”
“How can you tell something’s bothering me?”
“I sat on the stairs and listened to you cleaning for a while before I came in here. The way you were breathing seemed off and something about your voice just now…I can tell. The inability to see with my eyes sometimes makes me more in tune to everything else.”
“Well, you’re very perceptive. But running into you actually helped calm my nerves. So, thanks.”
My eyes began to water. “Thank you, Leo. The pleasure is all mine, believe me.”
As I carried the mop and bucket to the second floor, I thought about how sometimes God will place someone in your path at just the right time. Leo demonstrated that no matter the hardship, it’s your attitude that will determine the quality of your life. At the same time, he made me realize how fortunate I was. He couldn’t have known how much that little interaction meant to me. It was the one thing that gave me the strength to face whatever I’d find at the top of those stairs.
***
My hands shook as I wrung out the sponge while trying my best not to breathe in the fumes of the chemicals. Using rubber gloves, over the past forty-five minutes, I’d cleaned two toilets, two tile floors and scoured orange crud off of two bathtubs.
Abandoning the cleaning supplies in the corner of the second bathroom, I walked down the hall. My heart pounded as I peeked into whichever bedrooms were open.
In one room, a blonde woman who looked to be in her early twenties stared vacantly at a television. That couldn’t have been Ivy. She was too young. And I did know that Ivy had red hair. That was pretty much all I knew about what she looked like since I never asked Jake to show me a picture.
A middle-aged man watching a football game waved to me from another room.
I was starting to really feel like I was violating the residents’ privacy. I’d continue down the hall to the end. If I didn’t spot her, maybe I would just take my cleaning supplies downstairs and leave.
When I got to the second to last room on the right, I froze. All life around me seemed to still as a flash of fiery red caught my eye.
Only the side of her face was somewhat visible. Her hair hid most of her profile.
A television in the corner was on low volume, but she focused all of her attention on the clock.
What was so fascinating?
The smell of cigarette smoke emanating from the room was suffocating and caused me to break out into an unintentional cough. She whipped her head to the left, and her eyes met mine in a penetrating stare.
We were face to face.
Ivy.
We finally meet.
She was beautiful, not in a glamorous way, but in the natural way that even years of abusing your body apparently couldn’t destroy. Her skin was fair, and she had small features. A few freckles were splattered across her cheeks. What surprised me the most was how tall she was, probably almost as tall as Jake.
Her incendiary stare continued to burn into me as I took a few steps forward into the room. She surprised me when she turned back toward the wall as if I wasn’t even there.
Her attention was still fixed on the clock when she answered, “No.”
“You’re not Ivy?”
“No.”
I cleared my throat. “What’s so interesting about the clock?”
She turned her face toward me again and said nothing. A few seconds later, she said, “I’m trying to make it go back, reverse time.”
Blinking repeatedly, I tried to make sense of what she’d just said. It was heartbreaking in so many ways.
I walked behind her to a chest of drawers and lifted a frame that held a photo of Jake and Ivy. My husband had his arm around her in the snapshot. My hand began to quiver as Jake’s green eyes stared back at me from the frame. It was overwhelming to see him so young in a time before I ever knew him. It was also painful to see him looking so happy with someone else. Ivy had the same long, red hair back then, but her expression was full of life, a stark contrast to the current distant look on her face. Staring at the picture was like venturing into a time machine I never would have willingly boarded. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">