Ruben Valtez-Garcia was old, and he would die soon. His daughter, Eva, tried to remember this as she dealt with the inevitable problems that arose every day as his body broke down. For instance, the urine smell that permeated his bedroom and the hall outside the room, no matter how many times she changed his sheets. She didn’t understand – he wore a diaper at night. How could so much urine escape? Or his habit of carrying odd household objects around the house and leaving them in strange places. Eva had become accustomed to finding silverware in her potted plants, a hammer in the refrigerator, a book in the sink. And then there was the forgetfulness. Poor Papa. It must be so difficult to deal with growing old. She didn’t have the heart to complain about having to deal with his behavior when he had to cope with it from the inside out. Still, it was gratifying to know that he was being cared for here, in the family home, rather than being sent away to an assisted living institution with strangers, and that when the time came, it was here that he would die.

Ruben Valtez-Garcia was old, and he would die soon. He feared nothing, and inwardly cursed everything, up to and including his daughter, Eva. That cretin! No matter how he explained it, she would not accept his wish to move to the Vallejo Vista Elder Home. Idiot! He often thought of his friends Gabriel and Jose, relaxing, playing cards, listening to music, flirting with the ladies at Vallejo Vista. He missed them. Getting up from his chair in the bedroom, he went to the door and called out softly: “Eva!” She didn’t come. Good. He unzipped his trousers and peed a little in the corner behind the television. Keeping a watchful eye on the door, Ruben crossed the room and got a few drops into the closet for good measure. Then he reached into a drawer for the eggbeater he’d stolen from the kitchen the night before and settled back into his chair. “Eva! Eva! Come quickly!” Footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Yes, Papa?” Ruben looked up feebly and ran the eggbeater through his hair. “Oh… Did I call you?”

Eva Valtez-Garcia gently took the eggbeater from her father and kissed his forehead. There was no point in embarrassing him by pointing out that he had combed his hair with an eggbeater. Let him keep his dignity intact. For Ruben Valtez-Garcia was old, and he would die soon.

Copyright 2006 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

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