George and Doris by Cherie Lee
George stared out the window of his son’s car as they pulled into a large complex with iron gates: a retirement home. It looked like a badly designed Spanish villa, painted stucco white with archways framing the front door and windows. Ragged red curtains hung in drabs. As if to put salt in the wound, there was a garden gnome dressed in a mariachi band outfit in the garden.
“You’ll love this place Dad. They’ve got a plasma screen TV and a library. You’ll have heaps to do,” his son Malcolm said enthusiastically.
“Can’t wait.” George sighed. “You know Napoleon only likes the Pedigree biscuits. And he has to take those antibiotics in the morning not after dinner.”
“Napoleon will be fine Dad. The kids love him.”
“And when you bring him in the car, make sure he sits in the back on the left so he can see you while you’re driving. He gets nervous…otherwise.”
“Got it the first time Dad. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”
“Read an article the other day about dodgy workers in retirement homes.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“It said seventy percent of the homes investigated fail basic standard checks.”
“This is a good one though, you’ll like it.”
“It looks like a bad movie set.”
At eighty-four years old, George’s health had started rapidly decreasing. He kept telling the doctors it was a broken heart but they mentioned something about angina. His family was worried and suggested, repeatedly, that he move to a retirement home. Eventually, he had begrudgingly agreed on the condition that they adopted Napoleon, his Neapolitan Mastiff and brought him to visit. Every week.
George slowly followed as Malcolm lugged his two bags into the foyer. A woman in her fifties was standing behind the front desk holding a mug and laughing with someone they couldn’t see.
“I know! I know, I know! You should have seen her face! I tell you what though, she’s not getting ice cream for desert anymore!” The woman glanced up as Malcolm cleared his throat. The joke still played on her face.
Malcolm introduced himself and exchanged pleasantries with the woman whose name was Judy.
“OK Malcolm, I just have a couple of things for you to sign then we can get your Dad set up. Did you want someone to take you around, show you the place? George?”
“I’ll look myself.” George wandered into the next room. His senses were assaulted by the smell of must and boiled cabbage. There were a couple of red couches on one side of the room with dog-eared magazines. A waiting room? What are they waiting for? George wondered. Death? He walked over and picked up Crochet Skills. He could hear a clink of china and a low hum of conversation. To his right he saw the dining room.
“They’re a friendly bunch, you’ll feel right at home in no time,” Judy said appearing by his side. “Your Dad just signed your life away!” Judy chuckled. George didn’t laugh.
“It smells like cabbage,” he hissed to Malcolm. Judy led them into a corridor with a series of rooms, all identical in layout.
Finally, she turned left at the last room.
“Here we are, all yours,” she said with a quick smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make. Feel free to unpack your things or go join the others. Some of the residents are having tea in the dining room. Lunch finished a while ago but I’m sure the kitchen can rustle you up something if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks for your help,” Malcolm said. The two stood still, silent. “Nice curtains,” Malcolm tried.
“They’re awful. Rosemary would have hated them.”
“Well Dad. Do you want me to help you unpack?”
“No.”
“Well, uh…I better get going, Lisa’s expecting me home. She said she’s sorry she couldn’t come but uh...we’ll come visit on Saturday.”
“Don’t forget Napoleon.”
“I’ll have to double check their policy on…animals Dad.”
“Bring his fluffy toy as well.”
“Give us a call if you need anything.” Malcolm turned and left. George sighed. He checked his watch, 5:26pm. The Price is Right was starting in a few minutes. George wandered through the hallway, looking for a television. He supposed the residents brought their own. He would have to remember to ask Malcolm to bring his on Saturday. He found himself in the dining room; a few of the residents stopped their conversations and glanced over at him. He nodded, politely and noticed a room off to the side, the unmistakeable noise pollution of ads blaring out of it.
There was only one other person in the TV room. A woman. She had wild white hair that had been wrangled into a bun and a face thick with makeup. Her lips were a shockingly bright shade of pink. She turned and gave George a huge smile, revealing a tiny smudge of lipstick on one of her teeth.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” George said with a quick smile as he sat down on the opposite side of the room.
“You can change the channel if you want love, I’m not really watching.”
“Thanks,” George got up to look for a remote.
“Although I would really like to watch The Price is Right, it starts in a couple of minutes. I just love Larry Emdur!”
“That’s what I was going to watch,” George said grabbing the remote. As he changed the channel he could feel her eyes on him.
“I’m Doris.”
“George.”
“You’re new. Fresh meat!” she said with a high-pitched giggle. George smiled and hoped Doris’ room wasn’t anywhere near his. The Price is Right started and Larry bounced energetically onto the screen. “Did you come here by yourself?”
“My son brought me.”
“So you’re not married?”
“I was.”
“Oh.” George tried to focus on the show but the click clicking of Doris’ knitting needles started to unnerve him. “I was married,” she continued. “Lovely man. Died last month. We had only been married for six months. He liked The Price is Right too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh that’s alright. I knew he wouldn’t last long, had a problem with his heart. It was a lovely six months. He was wonderful.”
“So you met your husband…”
“Here!” Doris gave George another beaming smile that lasted too long for his liking. He attempted to watch the screen but could see Doris’ eyes in the reflection, stealing glances. “Do you like blue?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The colour blue. Do you like it?”
“Uh…yes. I suppose so.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to knit you a scarf. A welcome present.”
“Oh you don’t have to-“
“No, no I want to!” Doris smiled again at George and he shifted in his seat. He wanted to leave. Miraculously, Doris remained silent for the rest of the show. She continued knitting and at one point took out a compact and reapplied another layer of pink to her lips. Finally, the show ended and George got up to leave. “I’ll see you at dinner George!” Doris said enthusiastically.
“Yes,” he quickly left and returned to his room. He sat on his bed and tried to calculate the likelihood of successfully avoiding Doris at dinner. George decided he should arrive late so she would already be settled. He sat on his bed and wondered what to do in the meantime. He would unpack. George’s joints creaked in protest as he slowly knelt down to open his suitcase. As he pulled out his clothes, a large fluffy gorilla fell out. It had been a present from his wife on their fiftieth wedding anniversary, his favourite animal. Rosemary had died three years ago and everything changed. She had been his memory, his frame of reference and his most treasured possession. Their house was an extension of their marriage, an entity that kept them safe, together. One could not exist without the other. So he moved. He took Napoleon and uprooted to the other side of town without even informing his son’s family who lived around the corner. They found out a couple of days later when, whilst driving past, saw strangers walking in and out of the residence stalked by a sharply dressed real estate agent. Now, he didn’t even have Napoleon. George sighed and picked up a book. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He got up and cautiously opened it. Doris. She had changed her clothes since The Price is Right and was now in a black dress with shimmering silver sequins. Her bountiful figure made it look like a tent. Her hair had been re-arranged into even higher piles and a fresh layer of lipstick had been applied.
“Hello neighbour! Looks like you’ll have to put up with little old me all the time, I’m in the room next to you! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Oh, yes. Wonderful.”
“Hope you don’t snore, the walls have ears you know!”
“Oh?”
“Thin walls. This place was built donkey’s years ago.”
“How interesting.”
“I thought you might want some company for dinner, it starts soon.”
“Well, I was actually in the middle of something. I might come down a bit later,” he said avoiding her gaze. She looked past him into his almost empty room.
“Of course! We need to jazz it up a bit in here; I have some things you could use. Silk scarves, a lovely rug,” she moved into the room gesturing wildly with her hands.
“No, thank you Doris.”
“Oh. OK.” Doris looked at the ground, waiting for George to say something. He was silent. “Well I guess I’ll see you at dinner,” Doris turned and left. George closed the door and sat back on his bed, in shock. He hadn’t had this much attention from a woman since the sixties.
Fifteen minutes after dinner had started, George walked cautiously to the dining room. He expected Doris to jump out at him from around a corner. He laughed to himself as he realised that she probably couldn’t do much jumping. Prowling more like it, he thought. He entered the dining room and scanned it carefully. She wasn’t there. The seats were only half filled; some of the residents were animated, engaged in conversation, others looked incapacitated and struggled through each mouthful. One woman, who looked like she’d nodded off, had a large yellow stain on her shirt. George wasn’t even sure if she was alive. He walked over to the service counter where two overweight women wore hairnets.
“Chicken or beef love?”
“Chicken, thank you,” George received a plate of chicken with boiled vegetables. He noticed there was no cabbage on his plate and wondered where the smell was coming from. He turned around and saw a man sitting by himself chuckling at a newspaper.
“Mind if I sit here?” he said, glancing quickly around to see if Doris had somehow materialised.
“Be my guest mate. You’re new aren’t you?”
“Yes, today actually.”
“Name’s Rodney.”
“George.”
“Nice to meet ya George. What happened? Family ship you off?”
“I’ve got angina so they want me…watched.”
“Ah righto. Well don’t go dying on me. Bunch of old fogies the lot of them. As fun as a root canal.” Doris suddenly entered the room. She waved at George and walked quickly over to them. “Looks like you’re being watched right now.”
“Found you! Hi Rodney.” Doris sat down and a heavy cloud of perfume tickled the back of his throat. “Made a new friend I see?”
“Yes Doris.” Rodney said, picking up the paper again. George looked at his untouched dinner. “Say, George, how’s about I show you that book I was just telling you about?”
“Ah…yes,” George said, picking up his cue.
“But you haven’t finished your dinner!” Doris said, her bright pink lips turning down with displeasure.
“George isn’t hungry,” Rodney said and turned to leave. George smiled apologetically at Doris, his stomach audibly disagreeing. He followed Rodney to his room, the first one in the long hall, to the right. George noticed that Rodney had a television and wondered if he watched The Price is Right. Rodney pulled two Cuban cigars out of a small wooden box in his room, and handed one to George. “A welcome gift.”
“I shouldn’t, but…alright.” George took one and smelt it. It had been decades since he had last smoked. Rosemary would have killed him. The two smoked and the conversation moved to Doris.
“You should fake your own death,” Rodney said with a chuckle. “That’d put the wind up her!”
“I don’t think it would work. I’ve always been a terrible liar.” Rodney paused for a second as George’s words sunk in and suddenly roared with laughter, slapping his knee, the ash from the cigar falling everywhere.
“Good one George! Hey, what about dementia? I’m sorry, who? No we’ve never met!” Rodney roared again, doubling over.
“I’m sure she’s harmless,” George said.
“You say that now, but give it a week.”
“I shouldn’t be smoking these, my wife hated cigars.”
“Well she’s not here is she?” George thought he caught a whiff of Doris’ perfume, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Do you watch The Price is Right?” George asked.
“Can’t stand it. That Larry Edmonds is such a smarmy little…bastard.”
“Emdur.”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” George sighed. Back to the TV room it was.
The next morning, Doris wasn’t at breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. George couldn’t help but be a little concerned. That night, as he was returning from the dining room, he noticed Doris’ door slightly ajar, a sliver of light escaping out. Against his better judgement, he peered in. There she was, squirming in her chair, gasping, her hands clutching her throat. The blue scarf lay half finished on her lap.
“Doris! Doris! What’s wrong? What’s wrong Doris? Can you hear me? Oh God. Someone! Help! Somebody come quick!” He stumbled out into the hallway yelling. He felt a sharp pang of guilt, shortly followed by a sharp pang in his chest forcing him to lean against the wall. A young male staff member came running up to him.
“Are you OK? What happened?”
“I’m OK, it’s her, this way, quickly!” They walked into Doris’ room. It was empty. “She was just here! In that chair! Choking!” The staff member looked at him like an adult about to explain to a child that Santa doesn’t exist.
“How about we go back to the dining room Mr, uh Mr-”
“Fielding. She was there, I swear!
“OK Mr Fielding. C’mon, let’s go.” George knew the young man now thought he was a crazy old fart, like the rest of them.
At five thirty, George made his way to the TV room for The Price is Right. There she was: Doris with a fresh layer of lipstick.
“Well hello stranger, almost done with your scarf!”
“Doris, what happened last night?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What happened? You were…dying.”
“What are you talking about George? My niece and I were out all day. Didn’t get home til late! We had a marvellous time, bought her this gorgeous oven mitt in the shape of a koala! Can you imagine George? A koala!” George paused and processed this information. Perhaps he had imagined it. His memory was as unreliable as his bowel movements these days. He shook his head and sat down. “Here’s Larry!” Doris said excitedly putting her knitting needles down. “I just love Larry. Can’t imagine what I’d do if I met him. I think I’d just die!” Doris giggled.
“Touché,” George said with a smile.
Exactly four days later, Doris died in her sleep. George watched sadly as the morgue workers carried the stretcher out with a sheet covering her abundant figure. As they left, he recalled a conversation he had had with Doris the previous day during The Price is Right. It was as though she sensed things were wrapping up for her.
“George, have you had a happy life?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I can see it…on your face. Laugh lines. You don’t laugh anymore.”
“Bit hard in a place like this isn’t it Doris? The mind-numbingly boring routine, the boiled cabbage, which is a complete mystery, nobody eats it around here!” Doris gave a hearty laugh. George found himself chuckling along.
“You know, it ain’t over til it’s over sunshine. Get happy. Enjoy what’s left.”
“I’ll be happy when my family bring Napoleon to visit.”
“Oh yes, when are they coming?”
“Saturday.”
“Lovely. I’ll have to knit him a special sweater. I used to knit sweaters for my cats. They loved it.”
“Thank you Doris.”
George wondered if she had known. He looked at his watch. Malcolm and Lisa were arriving in a few hours for their weekly visit. He felt another wave of sadness. Perhaps Doris had died from a broken heart? Four long hours later, Malcolm and Lisa arrived. Napoleon bounded through the hall towards his room.
“Napoleon!” George exclaimed and knelt down to hold Napoleon. He felt a tear slide down his cheek.
“Hi Dad,” Malcolm said and gave him a hug. “How’s things?” Lisa gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.
“Alright Dad?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine thank you dear. One of my friends died today. Malcolm do you think you could take me to the funeral? It’s on Monday, little church down the road. It’s in the morning, wouldn’t be long.”
“Sure Dad, no worries.” Malcolm gave him a pat on the back. “You sure you’re alright?”
“Never been better,” he said as Napoleon put his paws up on his knees and licked his face. George stood up and noticed the blue scarf sitting on the floor. He bent down, picked it up, wrapped it around his neck and looked at his watch: 5:29pm.
“Anyone for Price is Right?”
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