It Could Be More | ✔

03. Old People

When Liah parked in the lot of Mapleway assistant living facility, I thought she was joking. Yesterday, after we picked up a few items for her room makeover, she wouldn't tell me where we'd be going to meet Oakwood boys. Now, I knew why.

Look, I understand what a blessing it is for people to live past eighty. But old people creeped me out. Their wrinkled skin and age spots. The way their hands were always shaking like one strong gust of wind would cause them to crumble into a pile of dust. It made me uneasy.

I think it had something to do with my fear of death. The older people got, the more likely it was that they'd take a nap and never wake up. It scared me, the thought of someone just not being alive anymore. And I definitely didn't want to be around to witness it.

"Are you freaking out? You look like you're freaking out."

I turned to Liah. "Why are we here?"

"Didn't you say you liked older men?"

"Liah!"

"Chill! Pop-pop lives here and every Sunday, a busload of Oakwood kids come to spend time with the residents," she explained.

Why anyone would volunteer to do that was beyond me.

"I've never visited on a Sunday, so I don't know who'll be here. But I figured it'd be a nice place to meet a cute, charitable boy."

Cute or not, was meeting a boy worth being around a bunch of old people? "How likely is it that one of these people will keel over and die?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I failed statistics."

I stared up at the beige building with all its windows and manicured lawns. "You know how I feel about old people."

"I do, and I find it extremely offensive because my Pop-pop is awesome." She hopped out the car. Reluctantly, I followed.

Mapleway looked like a hotel. All carpet and neutral colored walls. A man with more hair on his chin than his head greeted us. He knew Liah, of course, and was surprised to see her on a Sunday. Apparently, she usually came on karaoke night and the residents loved her.

Liah led me to the rec room. There was golf on the tv and a knitting circle in the corner. Liah's grandpa was playing checkers with one of nurses, noticeable by his burgundy scrubs. He was in his late twenties, a tattoo peeking from the collar of his scrubs.

"Careful, Ernesto, he cheats," Liah told the nurse, a playful smile on her lips.

He chuckled, kinging on of Mr. Scott's pieces. "I've noticed."

"It's not cheating," he said. "It's called strategy." He let out a hearty laugh before revealing the three black pieces hidden in his palms. His pieces. "Can't take them if they're not on the board!"

While Liah talked to her grandpa and Ernesto, I glanced around the room. There were a lot of comfortable looking chairs and couches. A woman in a recliner had her head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth wide open. My heart stopped. Was she...

The chainsaw like snore she let out both startled me and sent relief through my body. She was asleep.

"And you remember Harlow, right?"

The old man squinted at me through his glasses, scratching his gray beard. "Oh yeah, Grayson's little sister." He smiled fondly. Great, another one of Gray's followers. "Your brother used to come by all the time. He adored you. Never shut up his artistic little sister."

I caught Liah's eye. So much for the Oakwood guys not knowing my brother.

"Relax," she told me as we lagged behind Mr. Scott on the way to the cafeteria for lunch. "This doesn't mean anything. Maybe Gray wasn't here on Sundays."