Jake Understood

  I walked around the side and peeked through a first floor window. Two women were preparing food in the kitchen. The muffled voice of a man singing somewhere inside the house could also be heard.

  This was a bad idea. They weren’t going to just let me in. What would I even say? I needed to leave, but at the same time, I’d come all the way here and at least, hoped for a look at her.

  I returned to the front of the house and stood frozen outside of the door.

  Before I could garner the courage to knock, the door flew open.

  A heavyset woman with short cropped hair stood before me. “I saw you standing on the porch from the window. The doorbell is broken. You must be Shari.”

  It felt like all of the saliva had drained from my mouth. “Uh…yeah? Hi.”

  What was I doing?

  She boisterously waved her arm behind her shoulder. “Well, come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No. Thank you for doing this on short notice. We’ve had a shortage of volunteers lately. They didn’t tell me which day you were coming, just that they’d try to send you whenever you had some time.”

  She thought I was a volunteer.

  “So, I don’t know if Valerie told you, but really, it’s just basic stuff we need help with…floors, the two bathtubs, most of the deep cleaning that gets neglected. You okay with getting on your hands and knees?”

  “Uh…sure.”

  I followed her down a hallway as she spoke. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this. With budget cuts, the state only sends a cleaning service out once a month now. And that’s just not enough. We have twelve adults in this house. Our priorities are keeping them safe, and that means that the cleaning goes to hell.” She reached out her hand. “I’m Nadine, by the way.”

  I took her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “All the cleaning supplies you should need are in that utility closet. You should start with the floors downstairs then make your way upstairs to the bathrooms. We have one of those fold-out yellow signs that says ‘wet floor.’ You can place it down in the center of whatever room is wet then move it around as needed as the floors dry. You don’t need to do the bedrooms, just the main living area floors downstairs and the bathrooms. Should take you about two hours.”

  “Okay.”

  I’d gotten myself into this mess, and now, I would have to literally clean it up.

  About a half-hour into scrubbing the floors downstairs, I checked to make sure the kitchen was dry before removing the sign. The plan was to venture upstairs next. I’d assumed Ivy was up there since all of the bathrooms and the residents’ bedrooms were located on the second and third floors.

  A tall, dark-skinned man donning sunglasses entered the kitchen. He was walking extremely slowly before he sat down.

  He caught me off guard when he spoke. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hi.”

  “Smile. You look gorgeous today, by the way. And you’re doing a great job.”

  “Thank you. That’s…uh…nice of you to say.”

  “It’s not that nice.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t really know how you look. I’m blind. I’m a ball buster.”

  “Oh.” I laughed. “I see.”

  “Yes, you do, but I don’t.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s a beautiful thing sometimes. I get to see everyone for what they really are on the inside without the bullshit on the outside—the masks that people wear.”

  “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

  “I can also pretend that every woman looks like Halle Berry. That helps.”

  “Yes, I suppose it does.” I chuckled. “How do you know…um…”

  “How do I know what Halle Berry looks like?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wasn’t always blind.”

  It wasn’t any of my business, but I was really curious. I whispered, “What happened to you?”

  He pointed to the floor. “You missed a spot.”

  I flipped around. “Where?”

  “Now, how’s a blind man gonna see if you missed a spot? I told you. I’m a ball buster.”

  I smacked my forehead. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Leo.”

  “Hi, Leo. I’m Ni…uh, Shari.”

  “Niashari. Interesting name. To answer your question, I lost my sight in Iraq. It was a roadside bomb. I’m a soldier.”

  His admission jarred me into silence. Leaning my mop against the sink, I pulled up a seat across from him. “Wow. I’m sorry. Thank you for your service, Leo.”

  “Don’t look so depressed.”

  “I thought you couldn’t see me.”

  “That is correct. You’re getting better at anticipating my tricks, Niashari.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve never seen you here before,” he said.

  “Is that another trick?”

  “Actually, that one wasn’t. But that would’ve been a good one, too.”

  “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.”

  “You could be butt ugly for all I know, Niashari. But you’re a ten in my book for taking the time to chat with me. Not many people who walk in here give me the time of day. You’re good people.”

  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 sta
rting 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.

  The first thing I noticed was her long mop of thick red curls. The woman who looked to be about my age was staring up at a wall clock while bouncing back and forth between the balls and heels of her feet. She hadn’t noticed me as I stood there observing her like she held the answers to all of life’s mysteries. She was the big mystery of my life.

  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.

  My body inched closer. “Ivy?”

  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.

  As I examined it mesmerized, Ivy turned around toward me. I felt like I needed to say something.

  “Nice picture. Who is this?”

  “That’s Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “He’s a bad person.”

  My heart felt like it dropped. Hearing her say that made me feel sorry for Jake. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to care for someone who didn’t even know who you were some of the time. You had to be a selfless person to deal with this situation.

  I gently swiped the glass that covered the image of my husband’s face. A thick layer of dust coated my fingertip. Returning the frame back to the top of the bureau, I noticed a note and picked it up, recognizing right away that it was written in Jake’s handwriting.

  Ivy’s Week Ahead:

  Sunday: Relax

  Monday: Science Museum Outing

  Tuesday: Appointment with Dr. Reynolds

  Wednesday: Gina Visit

  Thursday: Toni is coming to trim your hair.

  Friday: Happy Birthday, baby girl. 33!

  Saturday: That nuisance Jake comes back.

  Overcome with emotion, I swallowed the lump in my throat. While it was heartwarming to see how meticulously he looked out for her, seeing that he used the term baby girl had sparked unwanted jealousy.

  In an eerie coincidence, as if he could sense my inner turmoil, a text from Jake came in.

  Are you okay? Please talk to me. You have me worried sick.

  I quickly typed a response.

  I’m fine. But I need more time alone.

  Ivy walked over to the nightstand and took out a box of cigarettes. She lit one, inhaled then startled me when she spoke. “What is your name?”

  “Shari.” I coughed. “What’s yours?”

  A cloud of smoke floated toward me as she exhaled. “Aria.”

  “Aria?”

  “What are you doing here, Shari?”

  “I’m a volunteer.”

  “Did Apollo send you?”

  “Apollo?”

  “The god of music.”

  Jake had told me a little about Ivy’s delusions over the years. It was starting to dawn on me that I’d caught her in the middle of one.

  Tilting my head, I asked, “Why would he have sent me?”

  “Are you one of his other conquests?”

  “No. I can safely say I am not.”

  “He’s going to save me. He loves me even though I’m a mortal. Because I’m a talented musician.”

  “Well, that’s great.”

  “Did you know that operatic arias are the most beautiful pieces of music? That’s where my name comes from. Aria is synonymous with music.”

  Jake had mentioned that Ivy used to play the guitar. That was one of the few things I knew about her. An amber-colored guitar leaning against the wall in the corner of the room caught my eye.

  “So, you’re a musician. I see the guitar over there. Do you play?”

  Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Ivy quickly put her cigarette out and sat down on the bed. She started to rock back and forth. The change was like a light switch had been turned off. She wrapped both of her hands around her head and started pulling her hair. Then, she burst into tears.

  A flash of panic hit me. I felt helpless. The bed creaked as I sat down next to her.

  “It’s okay, Aria. Whatever it is, you’ll be okay.”

  The reality of how far gone Ivy’s condition was had never really registered with me before. Seeing it for myself gave me a clearer understanding of what Jake had been dealing with all of these years.

  There was a knock at the door.

  A woman walked in holding a small Dixie cup. “Ivy girl, I have your medicine.” She seemed unphased by Ivy’s wailing, which told me it happened a lot.

  The worker didn’t question me. She simply walked over to Ivy, gave her two pills and watched as she drank every last drop of the water.

  “Stick out your tongue,” the woman said, apparently needing to make sure Ivy actually swallowed the medicine.

  Ivy did as she was told. “Ahh.”

  I noticed for the first time that her teeth were quite stained.

  The woman promptly left, shutting the door behind her.

  Outside the window, snowflakes were falling. We sat in silence for several minutes. Thankfully, she’d calmed down. I couldn’t help staring at her, taking in every last detail as she towered over me on the bed. Subtle wrinkles were starting to form around her mouth, probably from all the years of smoking. It was hard to imagine that Jake had once been married to her, had made love to her over and over. I shuddered. The knowledge that my husband had been inside of her caused my stomach to turn. I really tried not to let my mind go there, but I couldn’t help it.

  At one point, she wiped her nose with her sleeve. Her eyes were swollen and red when she slowly turned to me. “I’m Ivy.”

  “Hi, Ivy.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

  “Me, neither. I’m not sure why I’m here anymore most days.”

  The deeper meaning of her statement made me overcome with sadness for her. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

  “No one ever stays. People come in here
to give me medicine or check to make sure I’m alive then they leave. I’m usually alone. Just as well. I don’t know how to be around people anymore. Well, except Jake.” She laughed almost maniacally. “I haven’t scared him away yet.”

  “Jake, huh…”

  Ivy stood up, walked over to the bureau and picked up the very picture I’d been holding earlier. She brought it over to me. “That’s him.”

  My poker face was getting harder and harder to maintain. I wasn’t going to pry or force her to label what he was to her in order to satisfy my own morbid curiosity. I knew the truth, and I knew it must have been painful for her to think about losing him. It was probably easier if she didn’t have to refer to him as anything specific anymore. Or maybe she didn’t always realize she’d lost him. It seemed impossible to know what she was really thinking.

  She returned the frame to the bureau without saying anything else.

  This situation was getting to be too much for me. I knew I really needed to get up and leave but wasn’t exactly sure how to approach it. She seemed to want me there, which was surprising and unsettling.

  Ivy got up again, walked over to the television and shut it off. Sitting back down on the bed, she closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. She startled me when she grabbed my wrist for support then said, “Go over there and bring me the guitar.” When I hesitated, she yelled, “Go!”

  The room suddenly felt hot. I was starting to perspire. I stood up and walked over to the guitar in the corner. It was a lot heavier than expected. I brought it over to her, and she reluctantly took it.

  She rubbed her hand gently along the strings. “I don’t play anymore.”

  “Why not? If it makes you happy, you should do—”

  “It doesn’t make me happy anymore.” Her tone was frantic. “It just reminds me of a time when I was happy, that I can’t get back. And that makes me sad. That’s why I can’t do it. I don’t want to remember Ivy!”

  “I understand. I—”

  “But I miss it. I miss playing. I miss the feeling. I feel like I’m slowly dying without it.”

  After several minutes of just watching her caress the instrument, a thought popped into my head. It was a longshot, and I didn’t even know if it would make sense to her. “Maybe Ivy doesn’t have to play. Maybe Aria could play for her. It can be separate from Ivy. Aria can start fresh, learn to play again. Do you remember who Aria is?”