Remember When

uniforms, all in calming pastels. In this unrestricted area, patients wandered, alone or with attendants. Through the wide, sunny windows he could see the extensive gardens below, with the winding paths where more patients, attendants, visitors strolled.
    It amazed him, continuously, that people would work in such a place, whatever the salary. And that those who weren't paid to be here would visit, voluntarily, on any sort of regular basis.
    He himself hadn't been inside the place for nearly a year and sincerely hoped this visit would be the last required of him.
    As he glanced at the faces he passed he had a moment's jolt that he wouldn't recognize his grandmother. He should have refreshed his memory before the trip out, taken a look at some photographs.
    The old all looked the same to him. They all looked doomed. More, they all looked useless.
    A woman being wheeled by reached out with a clawlike hand to snatch at the ribbon trailing from the florist's box.
    "I love flowers. I love flowers." Her voice was a pipe tooting out of a wizened face that made Trevor think of a dried apple. "Thank you, Johnnie! I love you, Johnnie!"
    "Now, Tiffany." The attendant, a perky-looking brunette, leaned over the motorized chair, patted the ancient woman on the shoulder. "This nice man isn't your Johnnie. Your Johnnie was just here yesterday, remember?"
    "I can have the flowers." She looked up hopefully, her bony hand like a hook in the ribbon.
    Trevor had to battle back a shudder, and he shifted to prevent that hideously spotted hand from making contact with any part of him. "They're for my grandmother." Even as bile rose in his throat, he smiled. "A very special lady. But..." Under the pleased and approving eye of the attendant, he opened the box, took out a single pink rosebud. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you had one."
    "That's so kind of you," the attendant responded. "There you are now, Tiffany, isn't that nice? A pretty rose from a handsome man."
    "Lots of handsome men give me flowers. Lots of them." She stroked the petals and lost herself in some blurry memory.
    "You said you were here to see your grandmother?" the attendant prompted.
    "Yes, that's right. Janine Whittier. They told me downstairs she was in the common room."
    "Yes, she is. Miss Janine's a lovely lady. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you. If you need any help, just let me know. I'll be back shortly. I'm Emma."
    "Thank you." And since he couldn't be sure Emma wouldn't be useful, he braced himself and leaned down to smile in the old woman's face. "It was nice to meet you, Miss Tiffany. I hope to see you again."
    "Pretty flowers. Cold eyes. Dead eyes. Sometimes shiny fruit's rotted at the core. You're not my Johnnie."
    "I'm sorry," Emma whispered, and wheeled the old woman away.
    Hideous old rag, Trevor thought and allowed himself that shudder before he walked the rest of the way into the common room.
    It was bright, cheerful, spacious. Areas were sectioned off for specific activities. There were wall screens set to a variety of programs, tables arranged for game playing, visiting, crafts, seating areas for visiting as well, or for passing the time with books or magazines.
    There were a number of people in attendance, and the noise level reminded him of a cocktail party where people broke off into groups and ignored the talk around them.
    When he hesitated, another attendant, again female, came over. "Mr. Whittier?"
    "Yes, I..."
    "She's doing really well today." She gestured toward a table by a sunny window where two women and a man appeared to be playing cards.
    He had a moment's panic as he wasn't certain which woman was his grandmother, then he saw that one of them wore a skin cast on her right leg. He'd have been told, endlessly, if his grandmother had injured herself.
    "She looks wonderful. It's such a comfort to know how well she's being taken care of, and how content she is here. Ah, it's such a nice day-not as hot as it was. Do you think I could take her out into the gardens for a walk?"
    "I'm sure she'd enjoy it. She'll need her medication in about an hour. If you're not back, we'll send someone out for her."
    "Thank you." Confident now, he strolled over to the table. He smiled, crouched. "Hi, Grandma. I brought you flowers. Pink roses."
    She didn't look at him, not even a glance, but kept her focus on the cards in her bony hands. "I have to finish this game."
    "That's all right." Stupid, ungrateful bitch. He straightened, holding the box of flowers as