Twilight

Kate could tell the third floor had a difficult day when she got off the elevator at 7:00. To the right and the left of her were six patients, who still had their dinner trays. The dietary aides must have already come, because the plates and food were gone, but the trays had not been wiped down. Globs of orange stuff and a different-sized spill on each reflected the fluorescent lights from the ceiling. Kate smiled when she noticed that Lois's tray was the only immaculate one. Lois was always meticulously clean while eating. Her eyes next landed on Josephine's stuffed little bunny wedged between Josephine and her tray. Its one remaining eye was still there. Kate felt relief at first, but then experienced a pang of guilt. She kept promising Josephine she would sew on another eye.

 

“Well Miss Catherine, welcome home.”

 

Kate looked up relieved to see Nurse Hodgins standing behind the nurse's station with her usual authoritative stance, and she was comforted by the head nurse's habit of calling her Miss Catherine. Two hours of overtime on the third floor, the last stop for the patients of John Daniel's Nursing Home, would be much more difficult without her.

 

Kate smiled at Nurse Hodgins and shyly said, “Hello.”

 

“Hello? That's it? Not I'm back to stay? That you missed the third floor, and that you realized moving to the first floor was a mistake? That it no longer suited you?” Nurse Hodgins had a loud and bellowing voice.

 

Kate laughed. Looking at Nurse Hodgins, she expected an answering smile or laugh, but Mrs. Hodgin's face remained as serious and intent as always. She had never seen her smile or laugh. Nurse Hodgin's good nature and humor were not so transparent. Sometimes, Kate felt a slight smile in the placement of her eyebrows or heard humor in the tone of her voice.

 

Mrs. Hodgins held the clipboard with the night rounds, as she said, “We'll have to catch up later on things. As you can tell, we are running a little behind up here on the third floor – short staffed today”. Her eyebrows went up on the last part. Kate tried to decipher their message but stopped when she realized Mrs. Hodgins was waiting for her to take the clipboard.

 

The first name she saw on it was Josephine's, and she was glad as she had hoped to spend time with her tonight. She wondered if Nurse Hodgins had given her Josephine on purpose. The second name, however, was Lois. Kate was not so glad about this. Most of the aides like getting Lois as she could be quite funny with her Alzheimers, but Kate always found Lois (who liked to be called Mrs. Stanley) difficult. Often, she could be very stubborn, and she was also quite heavy and stiff to move. Getting her into bed and on and off the toilet was really too difficult for Kate's to do easily by herself, and Kate never liked asking the other amazon-like aides to take time away from their rounds to help. Asking for assistance from them was never a very comfortable experience. However, Lois was not always so bad. It was the third name on the list, Beatrice, that made Kate immediately regret her decision to help out on the third floor.

 

“Get me before you do Mr. Stanley. I don't let any of my girls do Mr. Stanley alone now. He behaves himself much better if I am present. And he has moved way beyond trying to caress an occasional forearm.” The eyebrows went up again, but this time, Kate thought she determined laughter as the cause.

 

Kate could only manage to say okay. She did not like doing Mr. Stanley, Lois's senile and perverted husband and the fourth name on her list, but she knew Nurse Hodgins's offer of help was genuine and that she'd end up doing most of his care for her. Kate walked down the hall to the linen closet to set up her cart, wishing there was some way she could orchestrate the same arrangement with Nurse Hodgins for doing Beatrice.

 

Kate got Lois first, still parked by the nurse's station, after she deposited her cart full of johnnies, face clothes, gloves, basin, soap, and a thermometer near Lois's room. Wanting to spend more time with Josephine without worrying about Lois, she decided to do her third. Plus, if she spent too much time with Josephine (which everyone did as Josephine was a favorite patient for most of the staff), perhaps there would not be time for her to do Beatrice.

 

“You've come to get me?”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Stanley, I've come to get you.”

 

“Good. Good. I need to get ready you know. My husband and I have plans for the theater tonight you know. So it's good that you have come now you know. I have always found it is good to have a second opinion when getting ready to go out. I was getting worried you know; it seems like it might be getting late. What time is it? Do you know?”

 

Kate knew better than to answer with real time. The wrong answer could send Lois into a litany of rising complaints, and once her stubborn nature was triggered, it was almost impossible to pacify, so she answered with, “When does the theater start?”.

 

 

Seemingly stating the obvious, Mrs. Stanley said, with a haughtiness that came easily to her, “It starts at eight.”

 

“Oh,” Kate answered as blithe as possible, “You have plenty of time to get ready.”

 

“We have to be there by seven. And it is always a good idea to start getting Mr. Stanley ready about a half hour before you really need him you know. He always thinks it takes less time to drive somewhere than it actually does. So we might not have as much time as we think we do. What time did you say it was?”

 

Knowing it was rude but doing it anyways, Kate did not answer this time at all. She started to feel bad as Lois's conversation became less coherent as she talked about shopping, her long-dead poodle, and her daughters. Kate knew if Lois talked about her daughters and her poodles in the same conversation, it was because she was unsure, nervous, or afraid.

 

 

 

After Lois, she changed her mind and decided to do Josephine next. The desire to put off Beatrice and Mr. Stanley (even with Nurse Hodgins's offer of help) had a force of its own, and it led her in a different direction. By spending some quality time with Josephine, Kate wanted to dissipate the guilt she felt for being somewhat intolerant with Mrs. Stanley. She had gotten her onto the toilet without dropping her. She had even managed to avoid any references to “real time”. She convinced Lois that she was only going down for a nap - “just for an hour or so” – to rest up for her big night. She told the theater was an especially long show. Kate managed to get her to bed in a timely manner. She hit a home run when she said, “Now, Mrs. Stanley, you need to stay awake for Mr. Stanley as he will be driving home late and in the dark, you know.” However, it had not though been an entirely smooth experience, as Lois questioned her, demanded of her, and doubted her every step of the way, and Kate felt troubled by her missing compassion. Instead, she had kept thinking of bird calls: hearing most one that was like Lois's voice, repetitive and shrill. Finally, Lois had fallen asleep suddenly. and Kate had taken a moment to look around Lois's private room, filled with numerous personal possessions and gifts from her daughters. It had been a quiet and peaceful moment, and a black and white wedding picture by the bed had inspired in Kate new bird calls: the lonely cry of a loon or the searching plaintive sound of an owl.

 

On her way to Josephine's, she had thought again about this picture, realizing what a sad story it told. Husband and wife, who had been married for fifty-one years when they were admitted, were living on the same floor completely unaware of each other. One was the victim of a stroke, the infamous Mr. Stanley, and the other had been taken by Alzheimer's. It was the kind of story that made you worry how your own future would turn out.

 

 

 

Josephine though was easy to put to bed. She loved being “tucked in” each night.

 

“Hi Josephine, How are you tonight?” Kate did not have to force a cheerful tone with this patient.

 

“Tired sweetie. Ready for bed. Yes Miss, ready for bed.”

 

Josephine always said those same words about going to bed. Tonight there was a little less buoyancy in her response, and consequently, Kate wished that she had come earlier.

 

“We'll get you into bed right away. I'm just going to get things from my cart, and I'll be right back.” However, Kate only went to get a johnny. No one washed Jo down while she was awake. An aide would come later when she was asleep and give her a sponge bath. Josephine would sleep through it all like a baby. Kate had asked a few of the nurses why things were done this way with Josephine, but each person had a different answer. Jo had been there longer than anyone else, and stories about Jo were passed down like oral tradition. There was no original eye witnesses left.

 

When Kate returned, she realized that someone had wheeled Josephine from the nurse's station to where she was now: in her wheelchair that was placed between the bureau and the bed, still holding her worn-out bunny. If someone hadn't moved her, Kate would have found her all by herself in front of the nurse's station waiting.

 

“I just need your teeth Josephine,” Kate spoke gently, “and then we'll get you to bed and change into your nightgown.”

 

She took Josephine's dentures and put them in their blue case and dropped in a cleaning tablet to dissolve. In the bathroom, she decided not to keep her waiting any longer by having her try to use the toilet. This was a task that the aides performed more out of respect than practicality. Most of the time, Josephine did not seem to have an awareness of its function. Kate went next to put the guard rail of the bed down. She double checked to see if the wheels of her chair were locked and was surprised to find that they were not. It was not like Nurse Hodgins, the most likely person to have brought Josephine to her room, to forget. Kate then put one arm under Josephine armpit and her other arm under her knees, picking her up effortlessly and depositing her on the bed. Josephine was easy to undress. She always wore a long wrap-around skirt and a button down blouse. It was just a matter of rolling her from one side to the other like you were rolling out dough for pasties. Kate put the water absorbent pads underneath. This was done for all the patients of the third floor in case they soiled themselves in the night. Josephine, however, never wet her bed at night, which Kate figured was a pretty good accomplishment for someone who was one hundred and one years old. During the day though, it was pretty common to find her adult protective undergarments soaked through.

 

Kate asked Josephine, who was now lying on her back, as she carefully put her arms in the johnny and tucked its strings behind her shoulders, “Ready for your prayers, Josephine?” Saying prayers with Josephine was another oral tradition item.

 

“Yes, Miss. Ready for my prayers.”

 

Josephine and Kate said together:

Now I lay me down to sleep

I pray the Lord my soul to keep

For if I die before I wake

I pray the Lord my soul to take.

 

“Here's bunny Josephine.” Kate tucked both Josephine and the worn old bunny in together and then said with a smile behind the words, “Think Bunny might like one of the teddies for company?”.

 

Josephine's room had as many stuffed animals (particularly teddy bears) as Lois's room had jewelry, makeup, and framed photographs. Three new teddy bears were currently being displayed on the bureau. One had a large pink heart on its white tummy with the word love written on it. Unlike Lois who had conscientious and loving daughters who came often bringing “cheer-up- things”, Josephine received no visitors. Josephine's collection of soft animals had come from various members of the nursing home staff. It was a compilation of 'cheer-up things' put together over the years. However, the name of most of the donors had been lost as too much time passed. Josephine had started out on the first floor twenty-five years ago. Many of her things were from staff members who no longer worked here, but her one-eyed bunny remained her favorite, and Kate had wondered often why so many had given her teddy bears. There were so many of them. She wondered why no one had thought to give her another bunny.

 

“The teddies are very nice. Yes they are. But I just need Bunny at night.”

 

Kate leaned over, giving Jo a kiss, smelling Loves Baby Soft as she did so. Josephine also had a steady supply of Loves Baby Soft. The reason for this was just as ambiguous as the abundance of bears. Kate had always thought that probably the most likely scenario involved Josephine commenting “Well, doesn't that smell pretty” as she smelled it on someone else, or as she opened it as a gift for the first time. After that, a steady supply of its pink box of pressed powder always decorated her nightstand. However tonight, as she gave Jo one last kiss as she tucked her in for the night, Kate wondered differently. She wondered if the oral tradition surrounding Josephine had more to do with the tastes of the various staff members who came into her life, and less to do with Jo's actual likes and dislikes. Jo's story ( the preferential treatment, the teddy bears, washing her as she slept, the wrap around skirts, a child's perfume...) had the stamp of all those that had come to care for her. It was hard to know what was originally Josephine's. Even Kate had almost done it. She had searched online to find her a Holly Hobby doll. It seemed like the perfect gift for her, as Josephine's two long white braids, long flowing skirts, and frail doll-like stature always made Kate think of her Holly Hobby dolls that she had loved so much in her childhood.

 

She left Jo knowing how she would fall asleep: she would lie there for about twenty minutes or so – very peaceful and with eyes open - humming softly to herself.

 

Nurse Hodgins found her outside of Mr. Stanley's room. Kate was rearranging the items on her cart as a form of procrastination, hoping that if she was running late enough, Nurse Hodgins might offer to help her with Beatrice too. She was also rehearsing in her mind her second alternative: to swallow her pride and to ask her to help her with Beatrice, but in her mind, she struggled to find a reason she felt comfortable sharing.

 

She smiled though easily at Nurse Hodgins and said nonchalantly, “I was just coming to get you. Perfect timing you have. Mr. Stanley is next on my list.”

 

“I came looking for you to tell you there's a problem,” Nurse Hodgins spoke as she gathered in her arms supplies from Kate's cart. When her arms were full, she turned to Kate, making eye contact for the first time. Her voice was brusque as she said, “I'll be doing Mr. Stanley by myself tonight.”

 

Within Kate, two feelings were in juxtaposition. Nurse Hodgins's curt manner made her worry about what was wrong, and whether or not she was the cause. Had she taken too long to get Josephine? Was Nurse Hodgins frustrated with Kate's pace? She had been stalling in the hope of avoiding Beatrice, and now this was no longer possible. This second surrounding feeling, involving her now inescapable obligation to Beatrice, made Kate wish she could will herself to disappear down the exit stairs. She could be in her car in three minutes and be home in less than ten, and the reality of Beatrice would never have to be faced. However, she could only imagine this, and even visualizing such an action was difficult, for Kate lacked the personal characteristics to carry such an impulse out. Kate was simply too passive of a person. Kate entertained briefly the idea of asking one of the other aides for help, but again, she lacked the boldness to do such a thing. They were understaffed and already running too late on their rounds. Plus, she had always sensed their hidden disapproval. With her small frame and quiet demeanor, they had never thought her “third floor material”.

 

Nurse Hodgins interrupted Kate's distress, when she said with a tone only slightly less brusque than before, “Beatrice is dead. I just found her that way a little while ago. I made the necessary calls. I need you now by the phone. I'll do Mr. Stanley. You can help us out by staying by the phone.” Nurse Hodgins's voice contained a soothing invisible force that gently pushed Kate along to the nurses' station where she sat alone, willing herself to remove the feeling of relief that Beatrice's timely death had brought her. However, it was like a weed that kept sprouting again, and no matter how much Kate plucked, she could not find underneath what she wanted: sadness and sympathy.

 

 

 

At the age of ten, Kate had arrived at John Daniel's Nursing Home, to volunteer her time, in the pink and white uniform of a candy-striper. No one in her family or elsewhere had suggested it. It was her decision. However, she had not been motivated purely by altruistic motives. The wish to be a candy striper someday had come upon her four years earlier when she had admired the clean and crisp pink and white stripes of her sister's uniform. During her time as a candy striper, she had spent most of her time visiting the patients during dinner, and the dinners were served and monitored by the dietary aides. Admiring their plain white uniforms and their authority over her position, another wish formed to be a dietary aide, and at the age of sixteen she did so. Kate quickly began noticing the nursing assistants that were always hovering around. Their stockings were white (dietary aides wore nude colors nylons), and they also got to wear nursing shoes instead of plain white sneakers. They looked very much like nurses, only the pin saying RN or LPN was missing. Again, Kate noticed the authority one position had over another, and she switched departments her senior year becoming a nurse's aide. That same day she went to Wear Guard, the uniform store all the aides went to, and picked out a new crisp nursing uniform and her first pair of nursing shoes. After two years of working on the first floor, Kate began thinking of making another change. In the break room, she listened to third floor aides swap stories about their difficult patients upstairs noticing how they emphasized the word difficult to mean different things. It could sound angry one time, sad the next, or humorous or endearing on another occasion, so this past May, she had transferred to the third floor. However, tired of not being able to gain acceptance with those third floor aides that she had admired and a particularly troubling incident with Beatrice had brought her back down to the first floor by August 1.

 

 

 

“No phone call?” Nurse Hodgins was back.

 

“No.”

 

“Well Don Juan was a perfect gentleman.”

 

Kate laughed, but it was quick laugh that drowned in a rising need to say some thing about Beatrice, so she said, “I feel bad about Beatrice”.

 

“Don't feel bad Miss Catherine. That was a blessing. There were not enough painkillers in the world for the kind of pain that woman was in.”

 

When Nurse Hodgins called her Catherine or Miss Catherine, she always seemed to Kate more relaxed and more approachable. For this reason, Kate added to her earlier -more polite than genuine- comment about Beatrice, “I know, but I just feel bad.”

 

Nurse Hodgins was really looking at Kate now, and Kate worried about what she saw. It was true that she did feel bad about Beatrice, but not for the obvious and expected reasons.

 

“Yes, death can be sad. But don't let it get to you too much, Catherine. It really is a blessing. Even Lucinda was having a difficult time with Beatrice, and Lucinda weighs probably a good hundred pounds more than Beatrice. That woman was full of cancer so far gone, and in pain we can only imagine at,” Nurse Hodgins paused before adding, “It amazes me still that strength in her when she managed to get a hold of you.”

 

“I didn't want to do her tonight.”

 

“Is that what you were feeling bad about? Cause I don't think anyone looked forward to bathing that woman down.”

 

Kate could have let the conversation wind down from here. What Nurse Hodgins said was true, but Kate was not willing to let her guilt ease away this easily, so she said, “It's not just that,” she paused and then continued, “It's not just that. I didn't want to take care of her tonight; it's that when you told me, I didn't feel sad. I just felt relieved – very relieved – that I did not have to go in there and see her, “ and then there was a pause again until she added what most troubled her, “That's all I felt.”

 

Kate searched Nurse Hodgin's face for signs of the compassion she sensed, and decided it was in a general softening of facial features. There was no one single change that stood out. Perhaps the eyebrows were a little lower, or the lines around her mouth were a little less pronounced, but with Nurse Hodgins, Kate was never exactly sure. However, it was the usually the eyes that had the answers, and Kate thought a lot about how this was true for most people, and it really did not make sense, as eyes themselves never really change, yet so much can be read there.

 

“And you think that's not the right way to feel? Her death is a relief. Think of it that way, so why not feel relieved?”

 

Kate was disappointed with her words. It was a feeling she often had with adults, particularly her mother. They had the uncanny ability to answer a question showing they were listening and not listening at the same time. It always left Kate feeling cheated. As she had done many time before with her mother, Kate persisted anyways, hoping as always for the not typically self-absorbed response. Unsure of how specifically to proceed, she almost stuttered her words, when she began with, “No. I mean. I don't think so. I don't know. I mean I understand what you are saying, but its not what I mean. I felt no sadness, no regret, at all. I don't think I am feeling what I am supposed to feel.”

 

“Catherine, you are not feeling any differently than the rest of us.”

 

Kate, thinking of her that particularly unpleasant episode she had had with Beatrice that brought a new wave of guilt each time she thought about it, answered unconvincingly, “Maybe.”

 

“No. Not maybe. Yes. Beatrice was not an easy patient, and I know she could get physical sometimes, and as I said, her strength for a dying frail woman was out of the ordinary,” Nurse Hodgins paused seemingly searching Kate's face and then added, “You know it is normal to react with anger when someone hurts you physically.”

 

Kate worried what she knew, and for the moment she thought about confiding, but knew that was impossible. It was crossing a line that would not be fair to Nurse Hodgins and their working relationship. Kate simply couldn't reveal that much, so instead she talked in a related yet safer way by saying, “ It's just that I think I should have more patience with Lois, and I should not feel angry when a dying woman lashes out at me.”

 

“Kate, really you aren't feeling any different than they rest of us. And you might just be thinking about it too much.”

 

This was an answer Kate's mother often used with her: You're thinking too much, over analyzing. Kate felt a familiar rise of resentment. She was also feeling stubborn, so she continued on. However, her mind switched subjects. Perhaps, she was just switching to a more appropriate topic, or perhaps she was trying to accommodate Nurse Hodgins with a broader easier conversation, or maybe it was serving a subconscious need. She said, “Maybe. I don't know. Maybe, its just that all these people up here are dying and the way they are dying seems so sad. Yet I don't always feel sad. Or patient. Or compassionate. They're patients.” She paused not sure anymore of where she wanted the conversation to go. When she continued her voice seemed less substantial and less interested. “I don't think sometimes I am feeling what I should be feeling.”

 

Nurse Hodins in turn changed her direction and tone, and it did seem like Kate had given her a conversational path she felt more comfortable with. Nurse Hodgins's voice sounded like she was giving a history lesson. “Beatrice. I think of her in two different ways. Look at Josephine. She's a hundred- and-one years old. She has no family. We know nothing about her life. But she's a sweetheart and she's well taken care of by all of us, and probably she was always a sweetheart. And Mrs. Stanley was probably always kind a b***h. I don't know how she got such nice daughters. And Don Juan was probably always a Don Juan. But Beatrice... maybe she fights the way she does because she had been fighting her whole life – someone or something. Sometimes, I think of her that way. And other times I like to imagine she was just fighting death every step of the way.”

 

“I know but-”

 

“Catherine, we all have our moments. Beatrice got you good a few times. That's why I gave her to you tonight to give the other girl's a break – and maybe even myself. You are not the only one who had had a tough time with her, I'm sure. But then I went down there myself, because I know she can be tough on you girls. And that's when I found her dead. You know, I can't exactly tell you what I felt either. I felt relief. That woman had been suffering. I can't honestly say I felt sadness. The noblest emotion I think I felt was a quiet respect for death.” When Kate did not respond, Nurse Hodgins added with a smile in her voice, “I just saw a beautiful sunset happening out Mr. Stanley's windows. Why don't you leave now so you can enjoy this late summer sunset that's happening out there?”

 

“No. I should at least stay till 9:00 or till the other girls are done with their rounds.” Kate's resentment and need to talk was gone – abated somehow by Nurse Hodgins's history/philosophy lesson.

 

Nurse Hodgins's business-like voice was back. “We're all set. We appreciate you coming up to help.”

 

Kate laughed. “I don't know how much of a help I was. You only gave me four patients and you ended up taking two of them back.”

 

“I gave you the patients that were the most work and that required the most patience.” Nurse Hodgins gave an uncharacteristic smile as she said the next part, “And I'm sure Josephine enjoyed seeing you.”

 

“Thanks.” Kate started to get up, but then sat back down again when she remembered. “But what about Beatrice? Shouldn't I stay till-”

 

“Nah. An ambulance will be coming for her. I called. But as it is not an emergency and the fact that they are only transporting a body, they might be a while. Go out and enjoy that sunset. I remember one particular nineteen-year-old girl saying to me that she missed seeing the sunsets, because she was working up here almost every night.”

 

“Okay, Nurse Hodgins. I'll go.” Kate was laughing, but she got five paces, when she was compelled to turn around and ask, “Did you move Josephine into her room tonight?'

 

“Yes. I dont like to see her sitting all by herself. She gets tired.”

Kate felt a pang of guilt and answered defensively, “Her wheels were unlocked.”

 

Nurse Hodgins head moved back slightly and for a moment her eyes looked farway, but then she answered in her usually abrupt tone, “ I guess I forgot. It has been a busy day up here.” Then she added in a softer tone, “This is a stressful job Kate. It gets to all of us sometimes.”

 

Kate felt another pang of guilt. She had only been trying to make Nurse Hodgins feel bad, because she felt bad about being late for Josephine. Kate tried to correct her earlier darker impulse. “I'm sorry Nurse Hodgins. I did not mean -”

 

“It's okay Miss Catherine. We all make mistakes.” The head nurse paused held eye contact with Kate for a moment, then looked away to wards a nearby window. “Goodbye Miss Catherine. Enjoy the sunset. It looks to be a real pretty one.” Then, Nurse Hodgins sent her off with one of her invisible smiles.

 

 

 

Outside, Kate sat in her car smoking a cigarette. She was trying to keep her eyes on Beatrice's window, but they kept drifting upwards to the darkening sky searching for some nobler emotion, but Kate only found a world in between night and day. The sunset was still there – although it was near its ends. Half the sky had already darkened significantly, but the sky behind Kate's car was still awash with color. Long thin strips of clouds looked like they were being stretched and pulled like cotton toward the horizon. Her intention, motivated by quilt and a wish to feel something more, was to stay until the ambulance arrived, but mostly what she felt was impatience and some other feelings she could not work through.

 

It was true that she liked sunsets, but that was not the real reason why she had ended up working days on the first floor. It was also true that Beatrice had gotten her good a few times. One night, Kate had gone home with a large bruise on her forearm. During a commercial break while watching Law and Order, her mother had held her arm close under her reading glasses, saying more than once, “Isn't that something.” She had said it just like that – like a statement, of no particular significance. Her mother's words echoed silently as Kate looked down on the green and purple circle on her skin. Kate had never been given a bruise before. However, it was not the bruise that made her transfer either. The bruise was 'something' though. Kate thought it was some thing of some particular significance, but she struggled with what.

 

It was really how Beatrice had made her feel that had made her transfer.

 

One shift at the end of July, Beatrice had lunged forward thrashing about. Strange non-words, typical of Beatrice, escaped from her mouth, and her eyes as usual seemed to pop out of her head, and they looked at Kate with hatred. Beatrice was adequately restrained, so she would not have been able to maneuver her hands into a position to hurt Kate again, but Kate had held her down with more force and longer than was necessary. Kate pressed Beatrice's shoulders down against the bed. Her palms pressed down and her fingers in back squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise. Then, she looked into Beatrice's eyes. By the same intuition that helps her see Nurse Hodgins's invisible smiles, Lois's scared poodle talk, and Josephine's inner peace before sleep, she knew that Beatrice liked her forcefulness. Kate still was not sure of what she had felt in that moment. There was resentment about Beatrice hurting her in the past. She had felt wronged and unappreciated. Phrases like: This job sucks. Its not worth it, kept popping in to her mind. She also felt disgust, some tiredness, some weariness, and a lot of anger. However, what was most upsetting was what had motivated her reaction to hurt to a dying woman who weighed less than ninety pounds: disgust for her animal-like sounds, bulging eyes, and decaying state. Also disconcerting was what she had felt afterwards when she looked into Beatrice's eyes: tricked.

Beatrice's eyes had became clear and they seemed satisfied. Kate had justified the incident this way many times since: Beatrice had wanted her forcefulness, and Kate had only played her part. Later on, when she saw the bruise she had left on Beatrice, she refused to contemplate that is was simply a reciprocal bruise and an act of retaliation. However, that moment and the feelings that stayed with her for weeks (and were still with her) remained allusive to Kate. Understanding it completely was always just slightly beyond her reach. It was this incident that had compelled Kate to transfer to the first floor, and it was the first time in Kate's 'career' that she had made a change that was actually a demotion. It was crisp uniforms and voices of authority that had led her up the hierarchy of nursing home work, but it was the 'uniform' of a dying woman that had led her back down.

 

Perhaps Nurse Hodgins was right - that Kate had just walked into Beatrice' life-dance. Maybe, people do not change that much throughout their life. She thought about what Nurse Hodgins said. Josephine was always a sweetheart. Lois was always a b***h. Mr. Stanley was always a Don Juan, and Beatrice was always a fighter. Kate may have just walked into an ongoing fight with a angry soul. It was an easy justification, but Kate had a hard time letting herself off that easily. Nurse Hodgins word though did stay with Kate slowly replacing the space that Beatrice had occupied. She wondered what kind of nursing home patient she would turn out to be. Considering her current track record, Kate would probably end up like Josephine: accepting whatever gifts people brought her even if they were not they ones she wanted, but she could just as easily become a Beatrice.

 

She was not even finished with her second cigarette when she saw the ambulance arriving with its lights off. They backed up to the door, so Kate could not see Beatrice being loaded in. They were up in down in six minutes, and then the ambulance drove down Main Street towards the darkening part of the sky. Kate left for home, taking a left out of the nursing home. Her eyes looked forward - to the part of the sky that was still lit. Pink clouds increased systemically in size as they drew closer to the earth. A hierarchy of size and color. It was a cotton candy sky - beautiful and glorious. Long thin strips of clouds looked like they were being stretched and pulled like cotton toward the horizon, or reaching for it of their own accord.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Des]

I'm nearly speechless. The way Kate felt about Beatrice dying is exactly the way I feel about my great grandmother's death. I thought I was just a terrible person. But, apparently, its just a way of looking at death.
I love the characters and the storyline. Its very well-written and just flat out amazing. Absolutely thought-provoking. Bravo.