Prompt: 59. Grandmother
Character(s): Lydia, Derek
Word Count: 678
Rating: T
Warning(s): Language
The smell never washed off, it was stuck to the inside of her pores even after she scrubbed herself pink in the shower with the yellow net sponge.
It was a melded stink of blue wash hair dye, peas and corn, Bengay, floor wax, and flatulence. The smell of old people.
Her grandmother never used to smell like old people even though she was one when the Alzhiemer's had progressed from forgetfulness to not knowing her own name or what year it was. Her grandmother had stopped calling her Lydia a year ago and had since been calling her Lossie. It was unsettling to have her grandmother think of her as someone else.
She had asked her father who Lossie was; it was her grandmother's sister dead for decades.
Every visit tested her acting chops as she went through the same reminiscings over and over again. It upset her grandmother if she tried to bring her back to the present so after the second time of trying she'd stopped and her visits became less for herself and more for the senile old woman who never used to smell like old people.
Before it had gotten bad enough for her to end up in a place like this she had smelled like rose water perfume, pledge furniture polish, and face powder.
Lydia left after setting her Grandmother's hair and taking out the rollers, she redid her make-up and dressed her in the red blouse that now had a grape juice stain on it from a clumsy aide. It made her furious despite that the old woman was oblivious to the ruined fabric.
Before it had all happened Lydia remembered her Grandmother as a tyrant of a woman, she remembered her voice on the phone as she negotiated deals and closed transactions. She'd been a corporate lawyer who worked until she was seventy, saying on the day of retirement that everyone could piss on themselves for all she cared.
It was funny that Lydia remembered her grandmother saying it because life was ironic and it was her grandmother who was so far gone that she had started pissing on herself. She'd forgotten what the urge to go to the bathroom was, how it felt so she just ignored it until she couldn't hold it in anymore.
Before leaving she yelled at the aide who was older than herself for ruining the silk blouse and left without listening to her entire response.
In the parking lot she sent a text saying she wouldn't be able to go out after all that night to Jackson. It was a lie but she wanted to be alone for while, maybe sob to herself if her mother wasn't home and then redo her make-up and start on next week's chemistry labs.
She felt like she needed to have a good, moderately long cry and feel genuinely bad for a little bit. Her grandmother had made her a photo album that she hadn't taken out and flipped through in a long time.
Her smile was soft.
On the way to her car she looked at the other cars.
Jackson's silver Porsche was lovely but the black Mustang parked a row over from her was a fresh look at something nice, the ass of whoever was leaning against the driver's side wasn't bad either.
The owner of the car and the incredible ass turned and placed his back against the window blowing out smoke from his nostrils.
He looked familiar, not one of her boyfriend's friends but maybe Scotts or Stilinski's, he scowled at her staring. She glared and hit the switch to unlock her car.
She made a point to tear out of the parking lot by rushing through the single empty space on the other side of his car and turning like the large space was a hairpin curve.
The eyebrow raise and amused smile around his cigarette was enough of a stroke to her ego, she touched up her lip gloss at the stop sign and told her reflection that it was behaving naughtily.