When the Aged Are Reverently, Passionately Waiting

Debra Riffe

On Evelyn’s move-in date, Louise asked Ayoka to help her into her best blouse—a delicate process now that the socket of Louise’s right shoulder was so deteriorated its meager lip no longer held the ball in place. Her shoulder could dislocate and relocate at random, as easily as a goldfish shifting directions in its bowl. But Ayoka managed the task well enough that Louise’s shoulder stayed intact this time, and Louise felt as put together as she possibly could. She asked Ayoka to push the wheelchair to the front doors, where she planned to carry out an all-day vigil if necessary. She would not be the foolish bridesmaid who hadn’t brought enough oil to allow for the bridegroom’s tardiness.

Despite Louise’s resolve to keep alert, when the automatic doors at last snapped open, they pulled her from an inadvertent doze. Out of the parking lot, near white with sunlight to Louise’s startled eyes, Evelyn appeared, all the details of her purple sweatshirt, gray slacks, and hosed ankles revealing themselves as Louise’s eyes adjusted. It was Evelyn, all right; only she could wear such a dumpy outfit with the bold air of somebody intending to make herself at home.

Evelyn looked in her direction, and Louise almost said something but caught herself. Evelyn was coming through her door; let Evelyn announce her own presence. But just then the doors jerked open again, and now a younger woman trundled in with powerful, unstoppable mass. Louise felt shaken until she realized that beneath the bulging chin and ballooning arms was Evelyn’s daughter, Janet—and Janet was now next to Evelyn, goading her forward. Evelyn moved on at Janet’s behest without so much as a nod to Louise.

“Evelyn!” Louise called out.

The purple sweatshirt stopped. The head with the wiry gray bob—leave it to Evelyn to have a hairstyle other than the set curls of everyone else—began to turn and, to Louise’s astonishment, continued turning enough for Evelyn to look directly at her. There was still a suppleness to Evelyn after all.

“Come on, Mom,” Janet said, and, in hurrying Evelyn along, caught sight of Louise. “Oh, Aunt Louise!” Her face all smile, her voice rose to booming. “Jim said we might run into you here, and here you are.”

Louise almost told her she wasn’t hard of hearing but thought better of it. Janet couldn’t help the falseness; it was all Evelyn’s influence. Louise had tried, over the years, to trace a glimpse of Boyd in Janet—he was Janet’s father, after all—but even now she couldn’t. Boyd’s child would have asked how her Aunt Louise was doing these days instead of standing there grinning that sardonic smile, the same one boys had once found so attractive on Evelyn.

“I thought I’d just come down to say hello,” Louise said.

“Well, that must have been a lot of trouble.” Janet looked pointedly at Louise’s wheelchair. “All for us, Mom. Don’t you want to say hi to Louise?”

“Of course. Hi, Weezy.” And Evelyn’s old smile was there as she said it, the original, that insolent angle so perfectly managed it betrayed that Janet’s was a copy.

“We’ve got to get Mom moved in. They’re waiting for us. Good to see you, Aunt Louise.” Janet used her bulk to hasten them onward before Louise could decide on a response.

That evening, Louise summoned Ayoka to help her use the bathroom and transfer to her walker before dinner. She preferred to use her own two feet for small distances—Jim encouraged it, good son that he was—and so she made sure to arrive at Evelyn’s door under her own power. The management had hung a welcome sign. Evelyn Kelson, it said, with an arc to the letters as though they rode a rainbow. Just like that, as if she had every right to the name Kelson.

“Well, I thought it...