|Emma Kemp (and_in_between) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2017-04-25 13:22:00
|Entry tags:||charlotte kemp, emma kemp, madeline kemp, peter kemp|
WHO: Emma Kemp, More Kemps, Peter Kemp
WHAT: Getting back in touch
WHEN: Monday afternoon
WHERE: Peter's assisted living house
When Emma arrived at what she had assumed to be a hospital for the mentally ill, she was rather surprised to find a head office surrounded by what looked like twenty self-contained units branching off from it, all surrounded by a fence sure, but it was only chainlink. After speaking to several social workers and doctors on the phone for the past week and a half, Emma had known Peter had transferred facilities several years ago, but she hadn't known he was in a place like this. Emma had had herself believing Peter had spent the past twenty years in a straight jacket locked in a padded cell.
All the Kemps signed in and were led past a huge room, obviously a common room filled with books and games and the like, and to the third unit. The support worker stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door before smiling wanly at the Kemp women. "Look, he's not dangerous or nothin', but we have to tell you to wear those alarm badges we gave you and press 'em if you need 'em," he said, pointing at the badges they had all been given at reception. "He's expectin' you, I'll be back in a while," and he wandered off, seemingly more interested in playing pool in the common room than anything else.
Peter pulled the door open and smiled widely at the Kemps crowded on his tiny stoop. "Hello," he said, friendly and polite as ever. "It's so nice to see you all, please come in."
Emma searched his face, surprised that he still looked so young. He had lines around his eyes, but they seemed like smile lines more than anything. His hair was a wild mess of curls, and he was far too thin, but then what male member of her family wasn't? Peter led them into what served as a living room of his little unit and Emma was pleasantly surprised to find a full tray of tea and coffee things on a table in front of a well-worn sofa. There was a loaf of banana bread beside it. "Please, have a seat," he said, lowering himself into a chair.