Blackout (21 page)

They went to Lettie’s room first. A nurse explained since she was breathing fine, they weren’t doing much except giving her fluids IV and watching a heart monitor. No test results were back as yet, so the nurse couldn’t tell them anything more. As they stood there staring at Lettie’s still form, Alice wished again this hadn’t happened, especially right now. And if Betty was right, and someone had attacked Lettie, Alice couldn’t imagine who or why.

Thomas came into the room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. He looked haggard and about ten years older than when Alice last saw him. Every hair on his head was in place, though, and his hand was steady as he bushed Lettie’s hair on her forehead. He didn’t seem to want to talk, and after a few awkward minutes, Alice and Donald left.

They found Hannah anxious to go home, but still uncomfortable with some pain and from having to lie in the same position most of the time. They chatted with her, not mentioning Betty’s fears about Merry Hills.

The ride back to Valleyview was as silent as the one to Sacramento. Alice would catch Donald glancing at her sideways occasionally, but he didn’t say much.

He dropped her off at Betty’s. “Want to go see Hannah again tomorrow?” he asked as she got out of the car.

“Yes.”

“How about I pick you up around two, then? You could come to church at eleven, first, you know.”

She shook her head at him. “I’ll see you at two.” She’d barely closed the door when he pulled away from the curb. Alice stood and watched until the VW disappeared around the corner.

The house seemed hushed as Alice entered. She felt strange going in, an intruder in a still-unfamiliar home.

In her bedroom doorway, she stopped, stock-still. Betty stood there, the drawing of Alice’s father and grandparents in her hand. Time seemed to stand still as Alice watched Betty look at the sketch. Then Betty saw Alice. Alice could see the emotions chasing themselves across Betty’s face—shock, disbelief, and then, curiously, fear.

Betty dropped the drawing back onto the bed as if it had suddenly become hot.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I was bringing in fresh towels and saw these on the bed.”

“That’s okay,” Alice said. “I told you what I remembered.”

“I know. But seeing the pictures is different somehow.” Betty patted the towels on the bed and quickly left the room. Alice couldn’t remember later how long she stood there, staring at the pictures, suddenly wishing she hadn’t remembered anything, anything at all.

“I’m so glad you agreed to work with me,” Yolanda said on Monday morning as she took some forms out of a file drawer. Her bracelets jingled merrily, reminding Alice of Christmas.

Alice smiled. “I’m sure this will be more fun than being an aide, for me anyway. What do you need me to do?”

“Paperwork!” Yolanda said, handing Alice the forms. “Sit over here, and I’ll show you. We have to keep track of every activity, everyone who attends, what level they’re at—oriented, disoriented, forgetful, responsive, unresponsive, mobile, or confined to room. The whole program has to be balanced, and I’ll want you to help with that. There has to be a certain number of specific programs for every type of resident. Now, I love giving the programs, even organizing them and getting people from outside to come in and do things, but the paperwork. Well, I hate it. But, as Katherine keeps telling me, ‘it’s not done till it’s documented!’ With you to help, I’ll be able to show how really good this department is.”

“I’ll try,” Alice said.

Yolanda smiled at her. “Over here are resident records pertaining to Activities. In here are the volunteer files. We have to keep records for them, too, so during awards we give every year for volunteer attendance, we know how many hours they’ve spent here. This cabinet contains sources and catalogs and directions for different activities.”

“Wow,” Alice said, a bit overwhelmed. “There’s a lot of paperwork.”

Yolanda sighed, then smiled. “I know. That’s why I’m glad to have you, hon. Let me show you how to fill out this form first.”

By lunchtime Alice’s head was swimming. She went searching for Joyce and when she found her, they walked out into the fresh California sunshine to go to Wendy’s.

“Girl,” Joyce said after they sat down, “I miss you.”

Alice felt warmed by Joyce’s comment.

“How do you like Activities?” Joyce asked. “That Yolanda sure is colorful.”

“I know.” Alice smiled. “It’s different from nursing. I think I’ll like it better, though.”

“Not me,” Joyce said. “Kid stuff, playing games.”

“And the paperwork!” Alice said and laughed.

Joyce laughed, too. “That Yolanda is famous for her paperwork attitude. Everyone has to do it, especially the department heads, so I think they think she should chill out and accept the fact instead of fighting it so much.”

Alice leaned in a little closer to Joyce and lowered her voice. “I’m not sure she understands it all, Joyce. That’s why it’s so hard for her.”

“Ah.” Joyce bit into a French fry. “That would explain a lot. The question is do you understand it?”

“I think so.” Alice took a spoonful of her Frosty. “Most of it, anyway. And I’m sure I can learn the rest. Yolanda is good with the residents, though, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. They all love her. The families, too. Her and Brenda. Talk about two different types. Yolanda so loose, Brenda so tight. I bet every bit of Brenda’s paperwork is perfect.”

“Don’t you like Brenda, Joyce? I kind of admire her, you know, the way she dresses and always stands up so straight and everything.”

“Yeah, well, the families like her, too. She’s real professional, you know. But, I don’t know, there’s something about her. I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. She’s so uptight. Might explode any minute.” Joyce threw everything onto her tray and stood up. “We’d better get back.”

“Right. I shouldn’t be late my first day working for Yolanda.”

“Not sure she’d notice.” Joyce held open the trash bin for Alice to dump her tray.

“Especially if she had to write it down.” Alice giggled.

They stopped in the ladies’ room back at the center, and Joyce went into a stall. Alice stood brushing her hair and had started to freshen her lipstick when Nancy came in.

“You,” Nancy declared. “You haven’t said anything, have you?” She walked up behind Alice and stared at her in the mirror.

Alice’s voice quavered when she answered, but she spoke as loudly as she could. “You mean about you abusing that old lady in her wheelchair?”

Nancy’s hand slapped her cheek so fast Alice didn’t have a chance to duck. Tears came to her eyes as she tried to back away.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Nancy warned.

The toilet flushed, and Nancy stood with a horrified expression on her face, waiting to see who would come out. Joyce took her time.

When Joyce appeared, she said, “What’cha doing, Nancy? Having trouble keeping your hands to yourself? Well, you better lay off Alice if you know what’s good for you.” She went over to wash her hands, turning her back on Nancy but still able to see her in the mirror.

“It won’t happen again,” Nancy muttered. She turned quickly and left the room.

Alice held her hand to her cheek where Nancy had slapped her. Slowly, she took it away and stared at herself in the mirror. A red mark covered the whole left side of her face.

“Here,” Joyce said, wetting paper towels with cold water. “Hold that there for a minute to see if it helps. Now, what was that all about? Did you see her abusing a resident?”

Alice nodded as she applied the wet compress. “She yelled and shook a lady’s wheelchair while the resident was in it.”

“Geez. Did you report it?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. They’re watching her, but have to have more proof than my word.”

Suddenly the awful thought came to Alice that Nancy could be the one attacking the residents. She wondered if Betty had considered that. She must have. But Alice and Betty hadn’t talked much since Betty had seen the sketches. Betty went to church Sunday morning, and Alice had been out with Donald all Sunday afternoon to visit Hannah and Lettie. Then he’d taken her to dinner and a movie. He said she needed diverting and entertaining.

Both Betty and Donald had been acting weird since Betty had told them she thought someone was attacking residents at Merry Hills. But Alice would definitely bring up Nancy the next time she saw Betty. She wondered if Betty had talked to her nephew. If she’d found out anything about Alice’s past, Alice was sure she would find her right away to tell her. She hoped so, anyway.

Alice took the soggy paper towels away from her cheek and checked her face in the mirror. A little of the redness had disappeared.

“Got any makeup?” Joyce asked.

“No, just lipstick.”

“Well, mine won’t do. Too dark.” They both laughed.

As they watched, the redness continued to fade, and they left to go back to work. “You gonna tell Betty about this?”

“Yeah. You’ll back me up?”

“You betcha. As a matter of fact, I’ll go see her right now. You better get back to Activities, though.”

“Thanks, Joyce.”

“Don’t thank me. What’s right is right.”

In Activities, Yolanda was getting ready to conduct a sing-along. Alice helped set up the tape player, microphone, and chairs. Slowly, the residents began to gather, even though Yolanda hadn’t announced it yet. Some came in their wheelchairs, some used walkers. Others walked slowly and carefully without aid. The ones who could still see well enough and use their hands picked up song sheets from the table. One or two talked to the others; the rest waited patiently, silently. An hour went by before the program got going. Alice did the attendance to the sound of old hymns and Stephen Foster tunes.

Alice couldn’t help glancing up from her work every once in a while to watch. One old lady sang lustily, but always the wrong song. Another dropped her song sheet and simply grabbed one from her neighbor’s hand. The neighbor appeared confused for a moment before grabbing it back. This started a tug-of-war, which Yolanda had to go referee. When order had been restored, an old gentleman got up and insisted on conducting. Unfortunately, he had no rhythm, and they all lost their place with the record they were singing along with. A woman in a wheelchair proceeded to try to run him down, and again, Yolanda had to mediate.

After the sing-along, Yolanda wiped her damp brow while the aides assisted the residents back to their rooms. Alice helped put everything away, and Yolanda went to do sensory stimulation with the non-responsive residents.

Alice finished entering into the individual records who had attended the last four activities when Brenda came into the activity room.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Hi,” Alice said shyly. “So far, it’s going okay.”

Brenda pulled up a chair and sat down. Alice noticed she still remained ramrod straight. Alice sat up a little straighter, herself.

“You don’t mind doing paperwork?”

“Not really,” Alice answered. “I like it better than changing beds and giving out trays.”

“And helping them toilet and cleaning up messes?”

“That, too.” Alice laughed a little. “Do you mind doing records?”

“No, I rather enjoy it. I like to write the social histories, especially.”

“What are they?”

“It’s where you find out everything you can about the resident before he or she came to the nursing center. Things like date of birth, place of birth, marital status, number of brothers and sisters and children, what relatives are still living, education, work history, where they’ve lived, interests, hobbies, all kinds of stuff.”

“Little biographies.”

“Exactly. And they’re all interesting. Every single one has at least one absolutely fascinating fact about them, usually more than one.”

Alice was intrigued. “Like what?”

“Well, like Margo Herman. You know her?”

Alice nodded.

“One of only a few female pilots during World War II. And Timmy Michaelson. Worked for the FBI under Hoover. Knew him personally. Fascinating stories to tell. And Naomi Livingston. Her daughter was kidnapped, and they didn’t get her back for eight days. She was okay, but Naomi remembers it all as if it happened yesterday instead of fifty years ago. Then there’s Candice Justin. You know her?”

Alice nodded again, fascinated. Candice Justin was deaf and blind.

“She used to own and run Merry Hills until National Homelike Homes bought her out.”

“Oh, that’s sad,” Alice said.

“I know,” Brenda said. “There’re lots of sad stories. Most end up that way. But we’re here to help them the best way we can.”

“I think your job sounds like the most interesting in the whole nursing home.”

Brenda laughed. “I’d have to agree with you. Come to my office anytime, and we can talk some more.”

“I’d like that,” Alice said.

“Well, to change the subject a minute. Anything more happen with Nancy Manelli?”

Alice put her hand to her cheek and told Brenda what had occurred earlier.

“That’s terrible!” Brenda said, frowning. “It’s a good thing Joyce was there.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to tell Betty this time?”

“Yes, on the ride home. I’m staying with her, did you know?”

Brenda shook her head, looking surprised.

“Hannah broke her hip and is in the hospital, so Betty’s letting me live with her for a while.”

“I don’t know Hannah, but is she all right?”

“She will be. You heard about Lettie, didn’t you?”

“Yes. A shame.”

“They’re both at Sacramento General, so Donald and I go to see them every day.”

Brenda nodded and stood up. “I need to get back to work. When you have a chance, come visit. I’ll be glad to tell you more about Social Services.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Alice continued working until Yolanda came back around four thirty. She realized she’d have to get used to the new hours because she worked eight to five now instead of seven to three. They chatted for a while, then Yolanda said, “You go on home. That’s enough for today. Don’t want you to get burned out! I need you too much.”

“Thanks,” Alice said and went to get her purse from her locker.