Free Angel Landing by Alice Hoffman Page A

said, thinking of our polite dinners and formal teas. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
    â€œSo?” Minnie shrugged. “You’ve been avoiding me, too. And this is business. This isn’t chitchat over dinner. I need professional help.”
    â€œI’ll make an appointment for you,” I said. “But I really think you should see a therapist who isn’t related to you.”
    Minnie waved her hand in the air. “If you can’t trust your family, who can you trust?” She turned to Jack. “I never thought I’d see the day when I needed therapy.”
    Jack nodded solemnly. “I know what you mean.”
    â€œJack,” I said, “is this really all right with you?”
    â€œFine,” Jack smiled.
    â€œI’m very depressed,” Minnie told us. “Very.” She stared at the ceiling with watery eyes. “Some nights I start crying and I just can’t stop.”
    â€œOh, no,” Jack said.
    Jack had stopped blinking; he watched Minnie carefully, and with real concern.
    â€œGo on,” I said to my aunt.
    â€œFrankly, it’s the nursing home. I’ve always been involved in this and in that,” she explained to Jack. “Writing letters. Mobilizing my family. But this is different. Every day when I go there, there’s another empty bed.”
    â€œSomeone’s died?” Jack asked.
    â€œYou’ve got it. Sometimes the bed is made—all tucked in very nicely, as if no one had ever slept there. Sometimes the sheets are rumpled. Once I saw a pillowcase stained with blood. Every time I see one of these empty beds I imagine myself lying there, not able to speak; I can’t even call out or scream. I’m trapped in an old body. In a bed.”
    â€œYou’re identifying too closely,” I warned.
    â€œOf course I am,” Minnie snapped. “I’m old.”
    â€œYou’re not that old,” Jack said to Minnie, but he was too shy to look at her as he spoke.
    Minnie smiled, but when she saw Jack light a cigarette she poked his arm. “At your age, you smoke? I bet you drink Coke, too. What are you doing to yourself?”
    â€œMe?” Jack said.
    â€œTake my advice,” she said. “Fast for three days. Then cut out all cigarettes, meat, and chemicals.”
    â€œWe were talking about your problem,” I said. “Jack has the right to make his own decisions about his life.”
    â€œI could get into fasting,” Jack said.
    â€œJust water,” Minnie told him. “And a little fruit juice in the morning. It will pick you right up.”
    â€œDoesn’t it make you feel better to know that you’re helping some old people?” I said, wanting to move on, away from the topic of Jack’s diet.
    â€œOld people,” Minnie sighed.
    â€œWhat about the socks you were going to bring for the ladies?”
    â€œThose ladies don’t know if they’re coming or going. Those ladies are tied into their wheelchairs.”
    â€œThe socks,” I said.
    â€œThe socks are still in the drawer at the reception booth. The nurses don’t want to be bothered.”
    â€œThat’s terrible,” Jack said.
    â€œOf course it is,” Minnie nodded.
    â€œYou have to be realistic,” I said. “You can do some things to help, but you can’t fight the entire bureaucracy.”
    â€œOh, no?” Minnie smiled. “I got myself some very interesting information. When the nurses were between shifts, I went to the supervisor’s office and discovered that even though Mercy is funded by the county, it’s privately administered. This morning I went to the library and looked up the board chairman in the Fishers Cove social register. The fellow’s name is Allen Crest, and the most interesting thing is that he’s married to Congressman Bruner’s sister, Yvette Bruner Crest.”
    â€œFor someone who’s so depressed, you