The Green Dragon goes full out Thai gaudy. I’ve never been to Thailand and have no idea if their eating establishments look anything like it, but the food was delicious. The sign out front sported a green dragon perched atop a whimsical treasure hoarde of pink peppers that faded to red toward the lower end of each pepper. The dragon reminded me of an artist rendition I had seen in a compendium of fantasy game foes from a game that partially shares the dragon name.
Much like the fantasy game, rolling a ten was mediocre. Rolling a 20, you’d be set. A ten spot would have you seated within a few minutes. A twenty would book you choice of any table in the house, quickly.
Aroon Yang had been the host for as long as I’d eaten there. I shook his hand, ensuring the folded 20 I had in my palm was seamlessly passed along, only to disappear into a hidden pocket of Aroon’s vest.
“A quiet booth upstairs please.”
“Follow.”
Aroon wasn’t much for small talk.
Faded red carpet graced the stairs. Pictures of ancient eroding Buddhist statues graced the walls. The ceiling was painted to resemble a vaguely cloudy sky. Music from instruments unknown was pipes in softly through hidden speakers. A golden cat seated squarely on its haunches waved perpetually at the patrons. Thai restaurants always seem to sport the same views. I love the food and the motif.
Booths at the Green Dragon isolate diners from one another. The only entrance to the booth is graced by a set of small swinging doors that Hollywood loved as entryways to saloons in old Westerns.
As soon as we’d placed our order, I gave Zoey the green light to tell me details. She wasted no time.
“I’m in over my head, T. It’s my mom and dad. Dad keeps forgetting things. It’s not just that. He’ll disappear for hours at a time.”
“I head off to think now and again. I make sure I avoid people when I do.”
She went on to describe how it wasn’t like that at all. I heard about him pulling the car to the side of the road because he hadn’t a clue where he was or how he’d gotten there. It was happening more and more often. Dementia or any of the associated conditions didn’t matter. He was becoming a potential danger to himself and possibly others.
“He goes on about NASCAR and the race. Dad hasn’t ever been pulled over for speeding, let alone tried to race anyone. I’m an only child, but he keeps insisting I take care of my brother whenever I go to visit. My brother Carl. Carl was one of the MPs in Berlin at the base. It keeps becoming more and more elaborate.”
I heard about lost items, lost people, lost time. Visions and hallucinations of day’s past and things done decades ago were now common fare in the household. I heard about Z’s mom and the efforts to keep up appearances while all the while she struggled to keep life as near to normal as she could.
“It’s wearing her out. I know he’s going to have to have round-the-clock care sooner rather than later. I need your help.”
I didn’t point out over the mound of my pad thai that I was unqualified to pick a senior care facility. I chose not to direct her to a social worker or agency better equipped to deal with the issues. Friends who disappear for awhile are still friends. I vaguely knew her parents.
Instead of pointing out things I’m sure she’d already likely pondered, I made the decision that would alter the channeled course I’d carved out recently for my life.
“Zoey. Zoey. Z. I’ll do what I can.”
She let out a huge sigh of relief and a tear or two.
We didn’t talk of old times or what we’d done since we’d last seen one another. She dug into her curry, and I aimlessly wound noodles around my fork until dinner was done.
I probably should have offered to walk her back to her car, but I was already thinking about what to do. We hugged and made sure we added contacts in our phones and went our separate ways.
I needed time to think. A slow saunter back to the office in the light mist that had begun to fall seemed in order.
I still hadn’t gotten another kiss.