Fred and Ace (Job # 14)

Right smack in the middle of my twenties, with no promising career opportunities other than waiting tables at Bennigan's, I was offered a job I couldn't afford to turn down.

My mother sat me across from my Aunt Nell with a cup of tea and said, "We got this guy that needs to be taken care of. Real good money. The only problem is that he's requested males only and so...well the both of us were thinking of you.” For some time my mother and her sisters were running their own business, taking care of elderly people that needed assistance. They had stumbled upon a ninety-four year old Irish man that left loads of cash to his lawyer who saw that he got the proper treatment over the duration of his life.

"He's pretty much forgotten everything and can't be left alone."

My first reaction was, "Abso-fuckin’-lutely not", but when I was told that I would be making twelve dollars an hour under the table to sit with a man that thought he was somewhere else, I figured, "Absolutely." I mean, I hated waiting tables and this would be the perfect cash flow while I kept my eyes peeled for something else. The only catch was that I had to go to this retirement home, spend the night and help him go to the bathroom.


The place was called Northern Acres, a sweet old mansion that harbored the elderly – but it wasn't, and I repeat, it wasn't a nursing home. After all, who in their right mind would work at a nursing home? My Aunt Nell was slick with her business deals. She was a red-headed stick figure that talked a smooth game making strangers cry over the rosary and firmly believing in what the fortune tellers had in store for them. Most of her friends were from AA even though she hadn't taken a drink in thirty plus years. She knew how to take care of business and when she saw an opportunity, she jumped on it. So, when I arrived at Northern Acres, it didn't surprise me that I wasn't taking care of one person, but two.

"Two people?” I said. "I've never done this before."

She looked at me, pinched my cheeks and said in what sounded like nasally baby talk, "Don't worry sweetie, these guys don't know who the fuck they are anyway."

At least she raised my salary to fifteen an hour. Their names were Fred and Ace, both ninety-four years old and both suffering from Alzheimer’s. Both had done well for themselves and managed to save up enough to live out the rest of their lives in this homely estate. Fred was a Professor at a prestigious college and Ace made pipes.


The inside of the mansion was what you would see in an old movie. Outdated patterns that covered the wall. Light classical music could be heard on the speakers and everyone looked like they were waiting for something to walk through the front door, pick them up and take them back to a place that resembled something they could remember. The temperature was warm and the entrance was filled with bright old people that lit up at the sight of a stranger. While this may have seemed random at first, it didn't take me long to realize that everyone's space was meticulously claimed like cats in a cage. The woman on the left always sat on the left and the couple in the corner always sat in the corner. These people survived by rituals.

Aunt Nell walked me over to a nice old man that seemed to be lost in thought. He was sitting in a chair near the front door.

"Fred? Fred honey. This is Chester”, my Aunt says.

Fred slowly picked his head up as if it weighed a ton. His half smirk attempted to lift his droopy eyes. After a moment of awkward silence, he went right back to his catatonic state.

"He just got a bath. So he's nice and clean, aren't you?” she asked.

"Aren't I what?” yelled Fred (his hearing wasn't so good after the war).

"Clean. Aren't you clean?" "Oh, I don't have time for that", he replied.

I didn't know what to make of this. He just gave a senseless answer for a very simple question, which convinced me that this was going to be a cake walk. Fred didn’t want to be there any more than I did.

"Come on. Let me introduce you to Ace."

We walked down the long hallway and into the TV room where a very small thin man sat. He drooled all over himself and had a disgusting handkerchief. I found myself becoming confused.  Was I supposed to wipe that off of his chin? Was that part of my job? Ace had a horrible hunched back and needed a silver, square walker to get around.

If I were to compare these two, Ace was a prehistoric bird, a bit light on his feet and still fragile, while Fred was a broken statue that had hands of stone. When he stood up you got the feeling he was made of lead. If Fred fell, I had visions of a tractor pulling him up. If Ace fell, I had visions of picking pieces of him up. I was warned to never let both of these men out of my sight. That, even though he was convinced he had stubble on his face, Fred wasn't to go near a razor or he'd make himself bleed to death. I also found out that Ace tends to yell in his sleep and likes to keep the light on at night.

"I've got to go sweetie. So they both go to bed in an hour and they need to be up for breakfast by eight."

Aunt Nell swept out the door faster than I would have liked. I didn't know what to do at first, but I then reminded myself that part of my job was to do nothing. I found a seat and patted Ace on the lap as if we'd been friends for years. He looked at me and smiled, "It's good to see you again."

We could have watched porn for all those people cared. They would have still sustained the same smiles on their faces and bickered about how cold everything was. The room was pitch black with just the light from the television and the slight shade of red coming from the exit sign.

"They got you workin' here too?” comes this voice from the dark of the room.

Out steps Lauren. A man that had two teeth and one testical. I know this because he told me. One of those people that spews out his history as if you aren't going to judge him for it. Within ten minutes of us meeting he confessed that he was in a legal battle with a doctor that laughed at the size of his penis while going under anesthesia during an operation.

"Geez they got your whole family workin' here", he said.

In a nutshell, the man was dirty. Filthy really. He was the type to play two sides and always had an answer for everything. He was seventy five, a parent of three wild young girls and the person responsible for making our food. Their food I should say, as the owner would dart his eyes at me with contempt and never let me sit down at the tables, especially while meals were being served. It seemed everybody knew what my aunt was up to. Taking money under the table while none of us were properly qualified to look after these men. Nobody liked it and, furthermore, nobody liked us.

Lauren revealed himself to be even more of a rodent when he claimed he never touched his little girl, "She's just goin' around startin' trouble. I told her, I said you keep this up and you're gonna be out on your own. Them people are gonna come back and take you away from me." That sort of information wasn’t what usually came up in my line of conversation. I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, what he told me or the idea that this mess of a person had little kids at the age of seventy five. Who would sleep with this thing? The man wouldn't shut the fuck up and, furthermore, he began having arguments with himself. The type that didn’t require feedback. I had to constantly remind myself that he wasn’t a patient. Just when I would feel I’d had enough, I envisioned all of the money I was getting paid to endure such a vile presence.

Fred was the easier of the two. When it was time for bed, he slowly made his way down to his room, got under the covers and thanked me for taking his teeth. Ace on the other hand, needed coaxing. He was like a child that needed a bedtime story, only he'd forget what I was talking about halfway through. Another interesting quality about Ace was that he was convinced we were actually in the stories. He'd repeatedly demand to speak to the captain of the ship which forced me to play along and give him some random reason about how he never properly tied up his horses or how he should have put in a request for leave much earlier than he had. Even worse, he refused to piss in the toilet. I quickly learned that, while completely capable of making his way over to the bathroom, he just preferred the rusty Folgers can that sat beside his bed. I realized that rusty meant reusable. How many people got on their knees to help this man rust up this tin? Grey pubic hair that looked silver from a certain angle. I remember thinking it seemed like something to look forward to. When I realized just what it was I was doing, a surge of adrenaline shot to my head. A panic really. His balls dropped to the floor like silly putty. I wasn't sure if I should run or play tetherball around his little leg. To get him into bed wasn’t an easy task either. He violently shook and was as stiff as a board. When all was said and done he finally passed out and I stepped out of his room feeling that maybe waiting tables wasn't so bad after all. Lauren told me that whenever Ace would scream, "Help me"; it was just him talking in his sleep. Later I learned that it also meant he pissed the bed. The only other thing I could compare Ace to was a camel. The man hardly drank water but constantly pushed it out. Sometimes twice a night.

What was becoming evident was the pattern of delusion among the guests of Northern Acres. Was fifteen dollars really worth it? I turned the page of an antique magazine, and desperately tried to read in the dark. In the distance I could hear "Help me, help me" coming out of Ace's room. I could also hear Lauren snoring. The man was tormenting me even in his sleep.