A Ghost Story - Part III
1980’s Austin/ Image: r/Austin
Danny always left the door to his second-floor apartment unlocked so caregivers could get in and out easily. When Lydia arrived the next afternoon, Danny’s daughter, Jennifer, was there. Danny was in his barcalounger, a blanket over his knees, and Jennifer was standing over him, a prettyish, dark-haired woman in her forties. “When did you last see it, dad?” she was saying, and Lydia’s mind immediately flew to the rolled-up sock with its wad of cash.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” wailed Danny.
“The caregiver was here this morning. I’ll bet she took it,” said Jennifer.
“No, actually it was me,” Lydia announced quietly.
Jennifer turned to look at her, incredulity on her face. “You took it?”
Lydia nodded. “The night table was too obvious a place, so I moved it to a sneaker in the closet.”
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that? You have my number, you could have called me instead of putting us through all this anxiety. Things are bad enough as it is.”
Lydia apologized. Then she said, “The money in that sock should go to the bank.”
“Yes, but it makes my father happy to have it by his bed where he can keep an eye on it.” She reached down and gently patted Danny’s shoulder. “Right, dad?”
But Danny had no idea what they were talking about. His eyes were glazed and his cadaverously thin face blended into the white sheet that covered the chair. Drool leaked from his mouth as he said, “You think they’ll let me drive Uber in heaven?”
Wow, thought Lydia. So much for her friend’s staunch atheism. She tried to fight back despair, not knowing if it was the drugs causing Danny to talk about heaven, a place he’d never believed in, or if he was getting that much closer to death and celestial thoughts were entering his head.
“Anyway,” said Jennifer, “I don’t want you moving things around here ever again. You’re very nice coming in to see my dad like you do, but that doesn’t mean you get to make decisions.”
If Lydia was stung by those words, she didn’t show it. Danny was like a brother and she would visit him every single day to the bitter end if she had to.
The next afternoon both Jennifer and her husband, Jim, were at the apartment when Lydia arrived. “We have something to tell you,” Jennifer said, looking a little embarrassed. “Jim booked a trip to Canada months ago, before dad got so sick. Everything’s prepaid, so we have to go. In the meanwhile, we’ve decided to move dad to a nursing home. We want to know he’s well-cared for.”
“He can be well-cared for here at home with his things all around him,” cried Lydia. “A move like that could kill him.”
Jennifer gave her a sadly resigned look. “We’ve made our decision,” she said. “And that’s that.”