Hope you guys enjoy this it is one of my more emotional stories as it is based on a true one. Please leave comments telling me what you think. Thank you!
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She sat there frail and broken not remembering a thing of her past. Alzheimer’s is a nasty disease it leaves people frightened and confused. I took out the bottle of red nail polish and my grandmothers aged face lit up. She smiled exposing her dentures. I unscrewed the lid of the bottle and was forced to inhale the cherry-toxic flavor of the paint. She spread her fingers out on my lap and I pushed my chair closer to her bed. I took her wrinkled silky smooth hands and began to paint her nails one by one. Her oiled silver hair, the tint of red lipstick on her lips, it was the one thing that she looked forward to in her frightened and confused world.
The next day I signed in at the old folk’s home and glanced at the receptionist who was chatting away on the phone. I came prepared; I had brought my make up kit. The elevator began to go up as I stood against the cold metal wall and waited. I had woken up early and was excited to come today. I really wanted her to remember me. The sound of the elevator arriving on the third floor broke my train of thought. I stepped out into what looked like the halls of a hospital floor. The numbered rooms were side by side, and staff members were carrying trays of food and medicine to the residents. I turned a right at the end of the hallway walking towards her room. I studied the other rooms that were on the way, besides the door to each room were old pictures of the tenants immortalized in their youth. War veterans and cheerleaders were now living the rest of their days in a place that was unfamiliar and scary.
I turned into her room. She was lying on the bed her eyelids open staring past the room walls. I walked up to her bed and put my hand on her arm, it was warm and so very fragile. I was about to call her name but remembered that she now only responded to “Ma”. I called her and she turned her head towards me. She smiled as if she knew me. My heart melted. She thinks I am her daughter but that doesn’t matter. The happiness on her face when she sees a familiar face is heart-warming. I pull up the wooden chair to her bed. I help her sit up and she slowly gets up. The curtains are open, and the sunlight makes her silver-grey hair shine. I take the make-up kit out of my bag, she smiles her toothless grin. I wince noticing her dentures soaking in a cup of water. She chooses the red of course and I begin to apply it to her eyelids. The brush caresses the creases and cracks of her skin. I cannot show her a mirror, the image she see in it frightens her. The old woman she sees in it is a stranger, an imposter. I stay by her bedside for a long time attempting conversation playing the role of someone she assumes me to be.
I go through the daily routine of getting to my grandmothers room. This time she is lying down fast asleep. I try to wake her up and it takes longer than usual. I pray that she is getting better. I have plans to bring her home and take care of her. I never wanted her in this place, but they said they need her here to take care of her condition. I pass my hand through her hair and feel the warmth of her head beneath my fingers. I let her go back to sleep, I will come again tomorrow.
I had barely reached home and taken of my shoes when my aunt came knocking on the door. A bewildered look possessed her face. I knew it before she said it. And an overwhelming feeling overtook me. I walked past the receptionist without signing in. Went up the elevator and turned right at the end of the corridor. My heart was beating hard, about to explode. An invisible barrier stopped me at her doorway. I glanced in the room and could see the mould of a body lying on the bed. I could hear my heartbeat as I broke the barrier and walked in. My feet felt heavy and I felt as if the floor could break any second. I walked up to the bed and I could see her glossy forehead exposed from the blanket. I extended my hand and my skin brushed dead coldness as I pulled the sheet over her. I shuddered. I saw the wilted roses against the curtain, I saw the unread Christmas cards, and I saw the makeup kit sitting on the corner of the wooden table. Its lid open and the powder crumbled by unsteady hands. The brush stood coated with red eye shadow neatly placed beside the kit. My heart melted.
