Reclaim Life

Déja Jones was motionless for what felt like forever. She thought this had to be a joke, but it looked, smelled, and felt all too real. She hesitantly reached into the box and pulled out what she thought to be a body part. The Jones family gathered to celebrate their grandparents' anniversary a week and a half ago. Her grandfather, Eugene Jones, recently turned 88, and her grandmother, Marie Jones, was 85. This was their fifth year celebrating while living on the elderly-assisted property, Reclaim Living With Care. Reclaim has become a well-known business with hundreds of locations all over the U.S. Thousands of retired, elderly individuals reside on their properties and are catered to in every way. It is a utopia for ages 75 and older who don't have a family or don't want to lose their independence. The love birds were still agile, active in their community, and doing remarkably well independently. Even so, Déja was not entirely shocked to receive the phone call from her mother three days later, "your grandfather has passed," her mother said. "It was in his sleep." She continued. What a peaceful way to go, she thought.

The days to follow were full of the Jones bickering over the funeral and grandmas new living arrangements. Déja agreed to care for her grandma Marie. She was the youngest of the family, had no significant responsibilities, and worked from home. She was perfect for the task and could use the company. As for the funeral, Reclaim Living took care of everything. It was a part of the living contract with the residents. They would cover everything from the wake to the reception as long as the resident remained on the property. The funeral was beautifully decorated, and the turnout was more significant than expected. Grandma Marie didn't say much, if anything at all. She sat quietly in a daze through the service and reception. "She won't eat Déja. Maybe you can convince her to do so?" Déja's mother whispered. Déja walked over with a plate of fruit and finger sandwiches. She would gently convince grandma to try to eat something. Déja leaned into the view of grandmas daze and immediately regretted it. She snapped and gripped Déja with a strength she had not recognized before. Relatives hurried over to assist Déja.

Later that evening, Déja examined her bruises and replayed the incident in her head. "Maybe she misunderstood." Déja's aunt said, catching her off guard and assisting with clean-up. "She didn't mean anything by it. They met as children and had been inseparable for decades. This is all new." Her aunt spoke softly, "She has never done this before. Her face was different-" replied Déja, "She doesn't do well with change. Remember when they first moved here? She was unresponsive until they settled in, and she adjusted. It'll take time and a new environment, and you'll see shell be right as rain." Her aunt smiled.

The family only had three days to pack up the condo and move it forty-five minutes away to Déja's small home. Grandma Marie would have her own room with a mini fridge for snacks, plenty of space, and a backyard to garden or relax in the shade. She wouldn't be alone, but after this weekend, Déja would. The rest of the family lived hours, if not states, away from her. Déja needed this all to go as smoothly as possible with no more surprises. She watched her grandma from a distance and focused on packing. It was the end of the day. The trucks were unloaded, the Jones had gone their separate ways, and grandma was still not speaking or eating.

Morning came, and Déja was running behind getting set up for work. She checked in on her grandma and laid her breakfast on the dresser, assuming she needed to sleep in. The house was crowded with unpacked boxes when Déja received several rings at the door. She stumbles over and swings open the door, only to find an unmarked package and no one around. Her final alarm goes off, and she is going to be late! She grabs the box, puts it with the others, and hurries to get on the next call. After meetings, many phone calls, and emails, its lunchtime, and Déja realized she hadn't heard a peep out of her grandma the whole day. She has a couple of minutes before getting back to work. She gets up to stretch her legs when out of the corner of her eye, she sees the front door is wide open. In a panic, she rushes down the hall to her grandmother's room, calling out with every step, only to find an empty bedroom. Jetting out to the front lawn Déja finds her grandma disoriented and panicked. She gets her inside and sits at the dining table.

Déja tries to comfort and calm her; she offers her water, but grandma Marie shatters the glass onto the floor. She is hysterical. Hours pass, and grandma is finally sleeping, Déja stands in the doorway, watching, waiting for Marie to shoot up and take off again, but it doesn't happen. She makes a phone call and heads to the restroom. "Hello, Doctor Bell; my name is Déja Jones; I am the caretaker of my grandmother Maria Jones. I was told you are her primary physician, and I think she's having some extreme griefing issues. If you could call me back at ..... I'd greatly appreciate it." Steam fills the bathroom, and the water pours over Déja's head and shoulders. She regrets taking her grandmother in and takes several deep breaths before exiting the shower. There is an off-putting smell as she crosses the hallway to her bedroom. She spots her grandmother on her knees at the end of the hall, digging through the mystery box left that morning. Stuffing her face with whatever is inside. Déja can't stomach the smell. She pulls her grandmother from the crate and finds it's been emptied, and her grandmother is covered in whatever was inside. The following morning music is playing, a sweet aroma in the air, and beautiful voice echos the hallway. I must be dreaming, Déja thought. It was grandma Marie, "well, look who finally got up. Good morning sleepyhead. I made breakfast." She sang as she prepared Dèja a plate and cut some fresh fruit. "Are you ok, grandma? What happened last night?" "What are you talking about, D.D.? Sit down and eat this food!" The song and dance stopped, and the same aggressive expression from the funeral was back. A ring at the front door; Dèja backs into the living room and opens the door. Once again, an even larger unlabeled package. "I'll take that." Grandma strolls to the door, takes the box to her room, and locks the door. Déja's day gets more bizarre than usual. She can't stop thinking about last night, the boxes, and her grandma's behavior. She has to find out what's in those packages and who's delivering them when she receives a call from Dr. Bell. She goes out to her front lawn for privacy when she sees a vulture waiting near her mailbox. She is speechless and does not move until she gets a whiff of something awful, a smell of rotting meat and blood. In Dèja's trunk were boxes from the Reclaim condominium that hadn't been taken in yet. Upon opening her trunk, one box was unmarked, soggy, and smelled rotten. Dèja fetched gloves, towels, and a trash bag. The package was swimming in its own fluids. She managed to get it to the ground and cut the top open. Déja Jones was motionless for what felt like forever. She thought this had to be a joke, but it looked, smelled, and felt all too real. She hesitantly reached into the box and pulled out what resembled a body part.

Several body parts were prewrapped, like frozen dinners with sides. Dèja could feel her heart in her ears. Her surroundings began to sway in different directions. She struggled to gain control of her legs and sat in the driveway for what felt like hours. Was this cannibalism? She knew what was in them but had no idea who was providing them and how? Why her grandmother? What did she know? Dèja thought she was going crazy. She placed a camera over the porch, and It had been almost a week with no deliveries. She needed confirmation of who was behind the deliveries fast and nearly called it a night until she noticed a package had been delivered. Before daybreak, a figure walked to the edge of the frame and out of full view of the camera. Almost like they knew how far to drop the package in the bush and walk away. Almost immediately, grandma walks into the frame, turns, and looks directly at the camera. She smiles and walks back into the house with the package in hand.

Déja pushed replay multiple times and still couldn't make out a face or logo. She couldn't sleep either; her grandma knew she was watching her, and she couldn't be trusted. The following morning a neighbor came to the door inquiring about a missing pet and showed a video of the incident. In the background was Déja's home with a particular vehicle parked out front. The driver approached her front door leaving a package. The logo on the car looked very similar to something she'd seen before. She drew out the emblem, searched the web, and then she knew! Ransacking her personal files and papers, she found the living agreement between her grandparents and reclaim. Holding it up to the light, there was a faint logo at the corner of the page that could be easily missed if not desperately searching for it. "It's reclaim living," she spoke to herself. Déja sat the rest of the day in her closet, going through every inch of the agreement papers. When she came to a part discussing property ownership, humane disposal action, and residential physical voluntary donations. It was referred to as recycling over and over.