Remember When

he watched her carefully select and play a card.
    "Gin!" the other old woman called out in a surprisingly strong, steady voice. "I beat the pants off you again." She spread out her hand on the table and had their male companion swearing.
    "Watch that language, you old goat." The winner turned in her chair to study Trevor as the man carefully counted points. "So you're Janine's grandson. First time I've seen you. Been here a month now, and haven't seen you visit. I'm only in for six weeks." She patted the skin cast.
    "Skiing accident. My granddaughter comes in every week, like clockwork. What's wrong with you?"
    "I'm very busy," he said coldly, "and I don't believe it's any of your concern."
    "Ninety-six my last birthday, so I like to make everything my concern. Janine's son and daughter-in-law come in twice a week, sometimes more. Too bad you're so busy."
    "Come on, Grandma." Ignoring the busybody, Trevor laid his hands on the back of Janine's chair.
    "I can walk! I can walk perfectly well. I don't need to be dragged around."
    "Just until we get outside, in the gardens." He wanted her out, and quickly, so he laid the white box across her lap and aimed her chair toward the doorway. "It's not too hot out today, and nice and sunny. I bet you could use the fresh air."
    Despite the cleanliness of the place, the floods of money that went into maintaining it, all Trevor could smell was the decay of age and sickness. It turned his stomach.
    "I haven't finished counting my points."
    "That's all right, Grandma. Why don't you open your present?"
    "I'm not scheduled for a walk in the gardens now," she said, very precisely. "It's not on my schedule. I don't understand this change." But her fingers worried the top off the box as he steered her into the elevator.
    "Oh, they're lovely! Roses. I never had much luck with roses in the garden. I always planted at least one rosebush wherever we were. Remember, honey? I had to try. My mother had the most beautiful rose garden."
    "I bet she did," Trevor said without interest.
    "You got to see it that once." She was animated now, and some of the beauty she'd once claimed shone through. Trevor didn't see it, but he did notice the pearl studs at her ears, the expensive shoes of soft cream-colored leather. And thought of the waste.
    She continued to gently stroke the pink petals. Those who saw them pass saw a frail old woman's pleasure in the flowers, and the handsome, well-dressed young man who wheeled her.
    "How old were you, baby? Four, I think." Beaming, she took one of the long-stemmed beauties out of the box to sniff. "You won't remember, but I do. I can remember so clearly. Why can't I remember yesterday?"
    "Because yesterday's not important."
    "I had my hair done." She fluffed at it, turning her head from side to side to show off the auburn curls. "Do you like it, baby?"
    "It looks fine." He decided, on the spot, that even millions in diamonds wouldn't induce him to touch that ancient hair. How old was the bag of bones anyway? He did the math, just to occupy his mind, and was surprised to realize she was younger than the bitch at the card table.
    Seemed older, he decided. Seemed ancient because she was a lunatic.
    "We went back, that one time we went back." She nodded her head decisively. "Just for a few hours. I missed my mother so much it nearly broke my heart. But it was winter, and the roses weren't blooming, so you didn't get to see them again."
    She laid a rosebud against her cheek. "I always planted a garden, a flower garden wherever we went. I had to try. Oh, it's bright!" Her voice quivered as he pushed the chair outside. "It's awfully bright out here."
    "We'll go into the shade in just a minute. Do you know who I am, Grandma?"
    "I always knew who you were. It was hard, so hard for you to keep changing, but I always knew who you were, baby. We kept each other safe, didn't we?" She reached back, patted her hand on his.
    "Sure." If she wanted to think he was his father, that was fine. Better, in fact. They had a link between them unlike any other. "We kept each other safe."
    "Sometimes I can barely remember. It goes in and out, like a dream. But I can always see you, Westley. No, Matthew. No, no, Steven." She let out a relieved breath as she latched onto the name. "Steven now, for a long time now. That's who you wanted to be, so that's who you are. I'm so proud of my boy."
    "Do you remember the last time he found us? My father? Do you remember the last time you saw him?"
    "I