IN THE MOUNTAINS OF OHIO
The parking lot at the old folks' home was not a fun place for me. I sat in the hot car and thought about it. Should I get out or not?
Two months before this day my aunt lay in a hospital bed and groaned from the pain of cancer. A sign over her bed read BLIND in big black letters. Cousin Allene and I stood there and watched her toss and turn.
"They're gonna send Mom back to the home," said Allene. "The doctor said he couldn’t do anything more."
Now that I was back in town my conscience told me to visit my aunt. Well heck, let's get going. I got out of the car and walked toward the red brick building. No one greeted me at the information desk inside. I thought: was it 2536 or 2532 where they kept her? I chose 2536.
I started down the long corridor. In past visits it took some effort to find her room since she often changed her name. At the information desk I would ask for Dossie and get a blank look. One time her name was Alice Faye. Months later it was Marty Lou.
It took me four corridors and about two minutes before I got to 2536. I laughed to myself. Would this be a first in my life? A correct room number?
It seemed to be so dark inside that room. Maybe she was asleep. I stepped over to the curtain - partitioned area next to a window. There she sat at a little desk and wrote something on a long, yellow pad. I marveled that she could sit up and that she looked a lot like she did in the 1940s. Men changed, I reasoned, but some women like my aunt don't. She turned around toward me.
"Sit down, Billy."
"How did..?"
"My sight's back."
"A miracle!" I almost shouted. "Saint Ann's been working overtime."
"Not this time," she said. "Saint Laser gave me new eyeballs."
"What about the other problem?"
"The cancer?"
"Yes."
"Miracle drugs punched it clear outta me."
What could I say? People talk about golden ages of this and that. Wasn't this the start of a golden age for medicine? Not everyone had a chance to live in a new age. Her bouncy attitude showed that she enjoyed it.
"Well, what are you up to?" I asked.
"Startin' a revolution."
"How does a patient do that?" she just smiled.
"First of all - we're not patients here. We're workers. Our first job is to throw out a staff that doesn't know up from down."
"Were you writing a letter?"
"I'd just commenced to make up the menus for tomorrow. We the people are runnin' this place."
I laughed and she joined in with me. She once told me that she loved to laugh.
"Billy, I've walked all my life in a big prison called life. It was a prison 'cause I suffered so. No more!"
"By the way," I said, "do you remember the haunted house?'
"Which one? Every house I lived in was haunted with somethin'."
"Like what?"
"Like cold and want and spooks and relatives. And don't forget the thirties. The Great Depression wasn't great in my book. No sir. But I know what you mean.
You mean the haunted house on Queen Street. That place was horrible. A real pigment of the imagination."
"You mean figment?"
"I mean pigment. Figment's when the spooks are in your head. Pigment's when the spooks are sittin' in the kitchen drinkin' coffee with you."
"You know what," I said. "You remind me of Aunt Opal. Do you remember the day she pushed and pulled and carried a large sofa up two flights of steps?"
"Sure do. That was a great thing that Opal did."
"Tell me this. When did you start being the lady you are today?"
"Gradual like, Billy. First thing was I got my eyes back. People say they got born again. They're full of baloney. I got born again with my brand - new eyes.
But then I asked myself if I was still blind. You know - blind to opportunities. Well I woke up with a bang. Started my push right here in this dump. I helped make beds, I watched over some old timers, washed dishes, swept floors. The big bosses here told me that I was needed. Now that's power. And that's what I was wantin': power and money. I wanted to take Ralph and Allene out to a fine restaurant and pay for it all by myself. So the word got out that I was shakin' and changin' this joint. You know what Billy and Jimmy and Gerald told me? Told me that since I'd become an executive person that I took after them. Know what I said? I said: hold it a minute, my sons, I was born first. You boys take after me!"
"You've made quite a journey," I said. "Do you remember the exact day when your life changed for the better?'
Aunt Dossie pondered this question for a full mlnute before she looked right at me and smiled.
"I know, I know! It was the day I changed my name to Opal."
Then she told me to come back when she wasn't so busy. Her jobs came first. She began to scratch in the dishes for the next days meals. I tiptoed out of the room and headed down the hall. Just as I reached the door I missed something. My baseball cap. Damn! Now I'd have to sneak back and try not to disturb her.
I stole inside the room and noticed again how dark it was there. I peeped around the curtain partition. No one sat there. Maybe my aunt had finished the list and ...
"May I help you?" A black lady with a mop and bucket stood in the doorway.
"I came back for this cap, " I said. "I had a great visit with my aunt. Isn't she something?"
"Miz Johnston?"
"That's right."
I don't know whether I could pick the right words and put them into a suitable order to describe the face of that cleaning lady. Let me just say that I looked at her and saw fear, shock, disbelief and sadness. Plus a whole lot more.
She sat, or rather, sank down on a chair. As minutes rolled by she seemed to compose answers in her mind - one after another.
"Miz Johnston died three weeks ago."
"She couldn't have. I just visited with her. You gotta be thinking of someone else."
However the more I looked at her anguish the more I felt that her reality was stronger than mine. Was my reality a dream, a wish that my heart wanted to be true? Or was all of this just a possibility in time, an errant episode that became real for a few brief moments through a quirk of nature before disappearing forever?
My hands began to shake. I put the baseball cap on my head and walked out.
THE END