Blackout (11 page)

“Lots of people. Almost everyone comes to see me every day.”

“Can you tell me who this morning, in particular?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Betty didn’t wish to answer that question. She couldn’t tell her fears to a woman who could not move to defend herself. Abruptly, Betty stood up and began pacing the room. “Just answer me, Ma,” she snapped.

“If you’re going to act that way, I don’t care to talk to you at all,” Betty Senior said. She turned her face to the wall and closed her eyes.

Betty realized she’d handled everything wrong. Her mother was so stubborn she would continue to refuse to answer Betty’s questions. Betty sat back down in the visitor’s chair.

I came in to talk
, she thought,
but I don’t want to tell her about Nancy abusing residents or Margaret switching the meat. She’d worry. I need to see Katherine. But now I have to know who’s been here this morning.
The sight of her folded arms made Betty’s skin crawl, but she couldn’t very well move them. Her mother would want to know why.

“Please, Ma. I’m really interested in what you did this morning.”

Slowly, Betty Senior turned her eyes toward her daughter. Betty noticed with a pang the deep lines on her mother’s face and the white, white hair. Her cheeks were gaunt, and the even, white false teeth seemed unnatural when her mother attempted a smile.

“You can’t fool me. But of course I want you to stay and talk, so I’ll tell you.”

Betty sighed with relief.

“Let’s see. Joyce and Alice brought me breakfast. Maria came to clean the room. Yolanda read to me for about five minutes. She’s nice. And Margaret came in to see how my food has been. Not bad considering it’s institutional. Oh, and Brenda came by to see if I needed anything, and Rita did, too. That aide who gives out pills gave me mine. A volunteer stepped in and chatted a while. Joyce came again and changed my bed.”

“Good heavens,” Betty exclaimed. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not yet.” Betty Senior smiled. “But I’ll take a nap after lunch. And I’m not done. You interrupted me.”

“Sorry,” her daughter mumbled, suppressing a grin.

“Donald came by, and I think I’ve forgotten or didn’t see one or two others. I doze off sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Do you remember who visited you just before I came in?”

“Honestly, Betty, I couldn’t say. I’m really not sure what order all those people arrived in. And I was dozing when you showed up, remember?”

“So sometimes people come in and you don’t notice who they are, or even know they’re here?”

“That’s right,” Betty Senior said.

“Do you remember Nancy coming by?”

“No, I hardly ever see her. She’s on that other hall now.”

Betty said, “Well, I feel redundant. Just one of the crowd of visitors.” She smiled at her mother.

“No,” Betty Senior said seriously. “You’re my most important visitor.”

“Aw, Ma.” Betty got up and awkwardly kissed her mother on her wrinkled cheek.

“Tell me about
your
morning,” Betty Senior said.

Betty sat back down and sighed. “Well, I saw Alice again and talked to her. She still won’t see a doctor. She’s such an innocent, I worry about her. I’ve got a couple of appointments this afternoon to interview some people for the aide position. Hopefully I can hire one and Alice can then start as Yolanda’s assistant.”

“I’ve been watching her,” Betty Senior said, “and I doubt she’s eighteen, Betty.”

“I know. But she could be. Anyway, she needs the job. And assisting Yolanda will be better than working on the floor.” Betty itched again to get up and move her mother’s hands. She grasped the arms of the visitor’s chair instead. “She remembered a few more things, which I think is a good sign.”

Her mother’s eyes drooped, then closed entirely and stayed that way. Betty watched awhile. Reluctantly, she left the comfortable chair and gently moved her mother’s arms down to her side.

“There,” she said and left the room with one backward glance from the doorway.

In the lobby, Betty saw Lettie sitting on a couch.
I’ve never seen her just sit before
, Betty realized with a start.

“Hello, Lettie. How do you feel?” Betty asked.

“Betty.” She stared into space a moment. “I don’t feel good at all. At all. So tired. Why am I so tired?” She looked beseechingly at the director.

“It’s nothing to worry about, dear.” Betty placed her hand on Lettie’s arm. “We’re giving you a little medicine so you can rest better. So you can be easier in your mind.”

Lettie shook off her hand and stood up. “Need to go. Need to walk.” She stumbled a little and Betty put out her hand to steady her, but Lettie quickly recovered and took off down the hall, a little slower than normal.

Betty watched her sadly, then headed back to her office.

There, she sat down and crossed off “See Margaret” on her to-do list. She fingered the pile of correlations she’d done on the decubs.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Damn her to hell and back where I can make her life miserable!” Betty got up and started pacing the room, angrier than she could ever remember being before in her life.

Calm down, she cautioned herself. Don’t do anything hasty. She longed to rush to Margaret’s office and confront her, make her admit she was serving the residents of Merry Hills less-than-nutritional meals, made palatable only by her cooking skills and spices. Residents weren’t losing weight because they got enough calories from fillers. But the poor nutrition promoted decubiti.

My department was made to look bad because of what she did!
Betty stopped pacing and stood staring out the window.
For a few dollars, she jeopardized the health and well-being of my residents
.

I’ll kill her,
she thought, pounding her fists on the windowsill.

When she heard a knock on the door, Betty jumped. Turning away from the window, she saw Thomas standing in the doorway.

“Is this a bad time?” His black eyebrows were raised quizzically.

“No, it’s all right. Come in. Please.”
I need the distraction
, she thought,
or I’ll do something I’ll regret later
. “Have a seat.” She went to her desk and sat down as Thomas took the visitor’s chair.

“I came to see you for two reasons,” Thomas began. “First I want to ask you about Lettie. But you seem awfully upset. Is there anything I can do? Want to talk about it?”

How kind he is
, Betty thought.
And perceptive
. Of course if he’d seen her abusing the windowsill, it wouldn’t be hard to determine something was bothering her. But she couldn’t tell a resident’s relative the food service director was illegally switching the meat products.

She shook her head at him. “I’m all right. Nothing you can do, I’m afraid. What did you want to ask about Lettie?”

“Have you seen any change? I was just with her, and she’s the same. Wanted to walk the halls.”

“I noticed she’d slowed down earlier,” Betty replied. “I actually saw her sitting down.”

Thomas smiled. “That’s good!”

“Yes,” Betty said doubtfully, remembering Lettie’s unsteadiness. “What exactly do you hope the medication will achieve, Thomas?”

“Exactly that. That she’ll sit sometimes, relax.”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” Betty said. She opened her desk drawer. “Want some trail mix?”

“I love that stuff,” he said, holding out his hand. “What kind is this?”

“I make it myself.” She listed the ingredients while they munched. “And the second reason you wanted to see me?”

“I want to take you to dinner. Now before you refuse again, let’s talk about it a minute.”

Betty felt herself tense. She put the mix away without replying.

When she was settled again, Thomas said, “I figure you don’t want to get involved with me because I’m a married man. I want you to know as long as Lettie and I have been married, I’ve never even looked at another woman. And we’ve been married for twenty-eight years. But Lettie hasn’t been a wife to me in over four years. I feel like her father now, and as I would never abandon a child, I will never abandon her.” He gazed at Betty with sad eyes.

She murmured something—even she didn’t know what.

“But it’s a lonely existence, Betty. We have no kids, as you know. I think you and I hit it off. If you want, we’ll go out as friends. I promise not to pressure you in any way except to go out with me. So, see, it’s simple. Say yes, and no pressure. Say no, and I’ll keep asking.” He grinned at her winningly.

“Well, you’re right. My policy has always been to turn down married men. We’re sort of in a gray area here. But Thomas, I really, really like your wife, plus there’s my position and reputation to think of. One lunch with a family member isn’t going to raise anyone’s eyebrows. But if we start going out regularly, which is what you’re suggesting—”

“Hey, listen. Let’s just start with dinner Saturday night. In Sacramento.” He reached across the desk and took her hand.

The feeling of electricity went through her again. She felt weak and was glad she was sitting down.
Oh
, she thought,
how can I not see him? I’m falling in love again. After all these years
.

Helplessly, she said, “Okay. Saturday night.”

He squeezed her hand and stood up. “I’ll leave before you change your mind. Six o’clock? I’ll pick you up. Good-bye for now.”

Betty sat, rooted, as he left her office. “Bye, Thomas,” she said softly.

“Betty,” Jenny interrupted her thoughts over the intercom. “Your two o’clock appointment is here.”

Great, Betty thought. I forgot all about the job applicants. I need to see Katherine. Something has to be done about Margaret. And I want to talk to her about Ida Jenkins and Mrs. Lacy.

“Send him in,” Betty said. A young man entered and handed Betty his employment application.

When she finished interviewing him, a middle-aged woman waited to be seen. Finished with her, she went to Jenny’s desk and asked her to check the candidates’ references. Rita came up to her and said, “Mrs. Stevenson wants to see you. She seems to be losing strength and has been asking for you.”

“Thanks, Rita. I’ll be right there.” Betty handed the files to Jenny and followed Rita down the hall.

In room 309, Mrs. Stevenson’s roommate snored lightly in the far bed. Mrs. Stevenson lay on her back, arms at her sides, head propped on a single pillow. Her eyes were closed when Betty approached, but slowly opened as Betty leaned over the raised railing. A smile graced her thin lips and crinkled the skin around her hazel eyes.

“Betty,” she said softly.

Betty smiled and took her small, vein-roped hand. “How you doing?”

“I’m tired. Can’t hold on much longer. Don’t want to hold on much longer. Want to say good-bye to everyone, though. Especially to the ones who’ve been so kind, like you.”

Betty swallowed a lump in her throat. This was the hardest part of the job—saying good-bye. Many of the elderly who lived so long seemed to know when their time had come. Most were more than ready. Betty never felt ready though. She wanted to hold on to all of them as long as she could.

Betty disentangled her hand from Mrs. Stevenson’s grip and pulled up a chair, then took her hand again.

“I’ll miss you,” she said simply, truthfully. Mrs. Stevenson had led an eventful life, and she had kept many people in the nursing home amused and enthralled with her stories. “Do you want me to call your family?”

“No. I saw them all on Sunday. I said good-bye without them believing me. I want to go in peace. No loud sobbing in the background.” She smiled at Betty.

“I’ll miss you,” Betty said again. “I really will.”

“Thank you. And thank you for not trying to tell me what I’m feeling isn’t real. That’s what the family would do, you see. My daughter, and her daughter.”

“But they’ve never seen it before. I have. You’re plain worn out, aren’t you?”

Mrs. Stevenson nodded. “Ninety-seven’s a lot of years. Plenty of years. And mine were full. I wanted to say good-bye, Betty. Thanks for everything. I know the good care at Merry Hills is largely due to your efforts.”

“I appreciate your saying so.” Betty gently squeezed Mrs. Stevenson’s hand.

The old woman squeezed back and smiled again.

“Don’t stay. I don’t want you to stay.” Mrs. Stevenson loosened her grip on Betty’s hand.

She doesn’t want to bother me with her death. And I’m like everyone else. I’ll go since she said I could. It’s so hard…

Betty stood up and put the chair back precisely into its position.

“Good-bye,” she said.

Mrs. Stevenson closed her eyes. Her chest continued to rise and fall. Betty stood a moment, then turned and left the room. At least there will be no questions this death was from natural causes, she thought. Need to see Katherine. She headed for the administrator’s office. On a couch in the lobby, Lettie sat quietly. Betty stopped beside her. When Betty said her name, Lettie turned her heard listlessly toward the sound, her brown eyes staring.

Poor thing, Betty thought, putting her hand on Lettie’s shoulder.

“Tired,” Lettie said so softly Betty could hardly hear her. Almost an echo of Mrs. Stevenson. Betty shivered. “Why am I so tired?” The brown eyes pleaded, the brow frowned.

“It’s all right, Lettie. You’re taking some medicine—”

“Pills!” Lettie said. She stood up abruptly, shrugging off Betty’s hand. “No more pills!” She stumbled down the hall.

Betty stood helplessly, watching her. She’d have to tell Thomas. Get him to reconsider.

Need to see Katherine. She’s the only one I can talk to about Margaret and Lettie and people dying in strange positions.

A young man sat in one of the visitor’s chairs in Katherine’s office. Betty hesitated in the doorway, disappointed. Katherine saw her and motioned her into the room.

“Betty, this is Foster Cullen. He’s a reporter from the
Valleyview Record
and wants to do a feature on Merry Hills.” She turned and smiled at Foster. “Foster, meet Betty Cranston, our director of nursing. She can give you a lot of insight into what goes on around here.”

Foster stood up to shake hands. Of medium height with brown hair, his blue eyes were framed with gold aviator-style glasses. Foster was so thin Betty wondered if he was ill. His belt pulled the material around his waistband into gathers.