spaciousapartments.Itseemedinvitingandprofessional.
Shelleylikeditfromthefirstvisit.ButLouresisted.He
looked around and saw not a singleperson without a
walker.
“I’llbetheonlyoneonmyowntwofeet,”hesaid.“It’s
not for me.” They went back home.
Notlongafter,however,hehadyetanotherfall.Hewent
downhardinaparkinglot,andhisheadtookasickening
bounceontheasphalt.Hedidn’tcometoforawhile.He
wasadmittedtothehospitalforobservation.Afterthat,
heacceptedthatthingshadchanged.HeletShelleyput
himonthewaitinglistfortheassistedlivingfacility.An
openingcameupjustbeforehisninety-secondbirthday.
Ifhedidn’ttakethespot,theytoldhim,he’dgotothe
bottom of the list. His hand was forced.
Afterthemove,hewasn’tangrywith Shelley.Butshe
mighthavefoundangereasiertodealwith.Hewasjust
depressed, and what is a child to do about that?
Someoftheproblem,Shelleyfelt,wasjustthedifficulty
ofdealingwithchange.Athisage,Loudidn’tdowell
withchange.Butshesensedthattherewasmoretoitthan
that.Loulookedlost.Hedidn’tknowasoul,andthere
was hardlyanother male to be found. He would look
aroundthinking,Whatisaguylikemedoingstuckina
place like this—with its bead-making workshops,
cupcake-decorating afternoons, and crummy, Danielle
Steel-filledlibrary?Wherewashisfamily,orhisfriend
the mailman, or Beijing, his beloved dog? He didn’t
belong.Shelleyaskedtheactivitiesdirectorifshewould
planafewactivitiesthatweremoregenderappropriate,