Chloe and Brett raced to her house. When they got there Chloe's father and a police officer were standing in the foyer speaking in lowered voices. Her father's face looked strained.
"What's happened, Dad?"
When he didn't answer, a horrible thought gripped Chloe. "Oh no. Where's Gran?"
Her father caught her arm on her way past him to Gran's bedroom. "She's all right," he said. "Dr. Polk came and gave her a sedative. She's not hurt. Not physically."
Chloe felt a rush of relief spread through her already weary body. Her father drew Chloe in with an arm around her shoulders and she slumped against him. In the door frame, Brett mimed, I'll call you. He backed out.
The officer said, "Lucky for you the manager at Bird Boutique isn't going to press charges. But he was tempted, let me tell you. Especially since he'd already had one run-in with a Mankewicz." He eyed Chloe.
Her cheeks flared. "What's he talking about, Dad? What happened?"
"I'll tell you later," he replied, eyes glued to the officer.
"Is your mother under a psychiatrist's care?" the officer asked.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Dr. Mankewicz glanced down at the officer's report. "Sergeant Carello. I appreciate you bringing her home. Will that be all?"
The officer shrugged. He closed his notebook, turned and left. Latching the door behind him, Chloe's father sighed audibly. He said to the ceiling, "I need a drink."
"Dad?"
"Tea. Strong tea." He smiled vaguely and headed for the kitchen. Chloe followed.
"They found her skulking up and down the aisles tearing into fifty pound bags of wild bird feed. She was mumbling something about Columbian stash." Chloe's father filled the teapot and set it on the stove. "I think she was looking for coffee."
"Da-ad." Chloe whapped his arm.
"Do you have any idea why she would have worn her pajamas outside the house?"
Chloe lowered her eyes. "I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to worry. She forgets sometimes how to dress herself."
"What?"
"I usually get up early to help her, but I was in such a hurry this morning . . ." Chloe blinked up at him. "Sorry, Dad. It won't happen again."
He shook his head. "Don't apologize. You should've told me about this. What else?"
Chloe frowned. "Nothing. That's it."
"Chloe?" The teapot whistled. He lifted it off the burner and turned off the gas. Then he poured the hot water over his metal tea ball and carried the cup to the dining room. Chloe grabbed a can of V-8 from the fridge and trailed him.
"Dr. Polk said Mother was pretty agitated and incoherent." Chloe's father sat down at the table. "He recommended . . ." He exhaled. "Maybe it's time to—"
"Ship her off to a nursing home?" Chloe finished his sentence. "No." She took her seat across from him.
"It's not a nursing home. It's an assisted living facility. They specialize in this type of, of illness. They have a resident medical staff, trained caregivers."
"I can take care of her," Chloe said. "I have been for years. In fact, I was going to quit the shelter so I could spend more time at home." Chloe was shocked by her own statement. When had she decided that? Had Brett's paranoia, his worry over her safety, forced her decision? No, she answered herself. Of course not. It's my decision. In fact, quitting the shelter is the only solution. Gran needs me.
"After school, too," Chloe added. "Brett and I'll be coming here from now on."
"Oh?" He studied her face.
A smile tugged the corners of her lips. "I'm going to teach him how to be a vegetarian."
"How'd you manage that?" he asked, immediately answering, "Never mind. I have succumbed to the Chloe Mankewicz power of persuasion myself. Except in this case. Your mother was right. It isn't fair to expect you to take care of your grandmother. Especially if she's deteriorating as fast as you say."
"Dad, it's not that bad. If I'm willing to do it—"
He held up a hand. "I've already agreed to visit this Meridian Care Center tomorrow with Dr. Polk. Why don't you come along? Maybe you'll change your mind." His eyes strayed to the French doors and, gazing out unseeing into the thickening night, he added wearily, "Maybe I'll change my mind."
The sadness in her father's voice forced Chloe to retreat, for now. Reluctantly she nodded okay, although she knew it was pointless for her to visit this place. Nothing was going to change her mind.
"What time is Thanksgiving on Thursday?" Her father changed the subject. "Did your mother say?"
Chloe shrugged. "One or two." Thanks for reminding me, she groused to herself. Another item to add to my list of "Things Most Dreaded." That, along with informing Muriel Blevins that the former activist Chloe Mankewicz can no longer be the voice of youth for the movement. Muriel was right, Chloe realized. I am a love slave.
Chloe skipped her classes Monday morning to go with her father, Gran, and Dr. Polk to the Meridian Care Center. The tour reminded Chloe how she'd felt the last time she'd visited the zoo. The animals were alive, yet lifeless. They wandered around with nothing to do but wait for mealtime. Survival of the fattest, Chloe called it. Her heart ached as the elderly residents at the care center filled the cafeteria tables for lunch. It wasn't even ten o'clock.
"It's a state-of-the-art facility," Dr. Polk said. "There's an in-house beauty shop and pharmacy. The reading room is over there, behind the big screen TV." He pointed.
Chloe saw her father flinch.
The doctor continued, "Your mother'd be sharing a room with another woman at about the same stage of memory loss."
Chloe hated how he talked about Gran as if she wasn't there.
He added in a lowered voice, "Usually there's a waiting list for Medicaid patients, but you're in luck. A bed freed up yesterday."
Chloe said, "Who died?"
Her grandmother tightened her grip on Chloe's arm.
"No one died." Dr. Polk smiled down at her. "The woman was moved to another section of the facility where she'll get more immediate medical attention."
"You mean the psycho ward?"
"Chloe." Her father frowned a warning.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I can't take this." She broke free of Gran and bolted for the parking lot. It was all happening too fast. Gran could never survive in a place like this. That's not true, Chloe corrected herself. She could survive, but she could never live. And there's a world of difference.
The doctor and Chloe's father came out a few minutes later with Gran shackled between them. Dr. Polk looked tense.
"What happened?" Chloe asked as her father helped Gran into the front seat.
"We only turned our backs for a minute." Chloe's dad fastened the seat belt around his mother. "Somehow your grandmother found the loudspeaker and announced to the whole place that the Air Alitalia flight they were on was being hijacked to Hanoi."