The dining room was slowly emptying out. Jack had escaped early, having picked at something that was allegedly Salisbury steak, though he suspected it had more in common with ceiling tile than beef.
He wheeled himself toward the lobby, thinking he might sit near the fish tank and pretend to read the paper. As he turned the corner, he spotted Jenna coming down the hallway. She had a messenger bag slung over her shoulder, hoodie half-zipped, earbuds dangling from her neck.
She walked with quiet confidence—a chain swinging from her back pocket, clipped to a slim wallet tucked into a pair of faded Levi’s. Jack noticed it right away.He gave a low whistle. “You start ridin’ with a motorcycle gang or just trying to keep Oscar from pickpocketing you?”
Jenna grinned. “It’s for the look,” she said. “But it’s also functional. That wallet hasn’t left my pocket in three weeks.”
Jack chuckled. “Looks good on you. You wear it like it’s always been there.”She smiled. “Feels like it has.”
They walked together down the hallway—well, she walked, Jack rolled.
“You visiting Grandpa again?” Jack asked.Jenna nodded. “Yeah. He had a rough afternoon. The sundowning hit him a little harder today.”“I passed him earlier,” Jack said. “Had a small crying circle going.”
Jenna sighed softly. “It’s tough. Some days he remembers almost everything. Other days…”
Jack gave her a glance. “He’s trying. Give yourself some credit too. You’ve got more patience than this whole building combined.”She shrugged. “I don’t mind repeating myself. I know it’s not his fault.”
Jack leaned over, mock serious. “Well, if you get tired, send Oscar. He’ll confuse your grandfather into peaceful silence.”
She laughed. “Oscar’s… something.”
“You have no idea.”There was a beat of quiet between them.
Then Jenna asked, “Jack… do you think he really understands what I’m doing?”ack thought for a moment. “Bits and pieces. Enough to care. Enough to try. That counts.”
She nodded, then glanced down the hall toward Sam’s room.
Jack gestured with his chin. “Go ahead. He’s waiting.”As she turned to go, the wallet chain glinted in the hall light, a little symbol of resilience.
“Hey Jack?” she called back.“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being… normal about all this.”
Jack smirked. “Still weird hearing that word applied to me. But I’ll take it.”
Jenna gave him a wink and disappeared around the corner.Jack watched her go, then muttered under his breath, “Oscar may be half nuts… but the kid’s got good instincts.”Scene: Evening, Hallway Outside the Elevator
Jack rolled away from the main lobby, heading for the elevator that would take him back to his room—or at least to someplace quiet, where nobody wanted to cry, confess, or play a round of “guess what year it is.”
He was halfway there when a familiar voice piped up behind him.
“It was… symbolic.”Jack raised an eyebrow. “Okay. This oughta be good.”“No, no,” Oscar said, waving his hands. “It wasn’t weird. It was… symbolic.”
“Oh boy.”Oscar pulled out a folded napkin from his pocket and opened it carefully. Inside was a shaky sketch in blue ink—what looked like a stick figure on a skateboard, a fish with wings, and what might have been a lighthouse or possibly a tube of toothpaste.“This,” Oscar said, pointing proudly, “is what it felt like.”Jack stared at it. “You dreamed about a flying fish, Jenna, and me on a skateboard?”“No!” Oscar huffed. “That’s just how my brain translated it. The point is… I think Jenna’s gonna be okay. And so are you.”Jack blinked. “Wait. You came down here… chased me down… to tell me you had a dream that said everything’s going to be okay?”Oscar nodded, completely serious. “That’s what friends do, right?”
Jack sighed, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well,” he said, tapping the elevator button, “you’re absolutely out of your mind.”Oscar beamed. “That’s what my cousin said too.”Jack shook his head. “But I appreciate the sentiment. Even if it came wrapped in… this.”He pointed at the napkin art.Oscar folded it gently. “I’m gonna give it to Jenna. She’ll get it.”“I’m sure she will,” Jack said. “She’s got patience. And apparently… taste for abstract art.”
As the elevator dinged open, Jack wheeled in and looked back at Oscar.
“Thanks, Oscar. You’re a strange little gift.”Oscar gave him a salute with two fingers and turned to wander back toward the rec room, muttering something about a fish parade.
The doors closed. Jack exhaled.
“Flying fish and napkin dreams. What the hell kind of retirement is this?”
But he was still smiling.Scene: Evening, Outside Sam’s RoomJenna stepped out of her grandfather’s room, gently closing the door behind her. The visit had been good—quiet, calm. Sam hadn’t repeated himself more than twice, and he even remembered her name without a prompt. That was what passed for a victory these days.
As she turned to head down the hall, Whitney, the night med tech, appeared with herclipboard tucked under one arm and a protein bar half-unwrapped in her hand. Her scrubs were spotless, her hair pulled tight, and her voice laced with efficient empathy.“Hey Jenna,” she said, slowing to a stop. “How’s he doing tonight?”Jenna gave a tired but warm smile. “Better than usual. No tears, no confusion. He asked for Jell-O.”Whitney tilted her head. “Green or red?”“Red. Says green tastes like sadness.”Whitney laughed. “I’ve heard worse medical opinions. I’ll write that in his chart—‘green Jell-O triggers emotional despair.’”They both smiled.Then Whitney glanced down the hall. “Heading out?”“Yeah,” Jenna said, adjusting the strap on her bag. “Long day.”Whitney nodded. “He’s lucky to have you. Not many stick around the way you do.”Jenna looked down. “Thanks. I just… want to be here while he still knows who I am.”
Whitney softened, then gave a quiet, sincere nod.
Twenty Twenty-Five
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