Lost December (23 page)

We walked past the nurses’ station to the end of the hall near the back exit. Carlos pushed open the door to the last room. There was a small bed with a nightstand and a glowing lamp next to it. “You can take this room,” he said. “There’s a hygiene kit in the bathroom you can use. It has razors, shaving cream, shampoo, a comb, and deodorant.”

“Thank you.”

“The morning shift manager comes in around seven-thirty, so I’ll leave her a note so she doesn’t call security on you. The kitchen starts serving at seven, so you can go down to the cafeteria and get a hot breakfast. The dining room is this way.” He led me down the hall to an open room with a bright linoleum floor and small, round tables. “There you go. Any questions?” he asked.

“No. Pretty straightforward.”

Carlos led me back to my room. When we got there, he said, “If you need anything, just call. Everyone here has my number. I’ll be in before your shift, so I’ll introduce you to Sylvia. She’s the CNA on this wing. You’ll be assisting her.”

“Sylvia,” I said. “What’s a CNA?”

“Certified nursing assistant. They’re the front line with the residents.” He looked at me and said, “You feeling okay?”

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Then I’m out of here.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just do a good job for the people here.”

I shut the door after him, then took off my clothes and took an hour-long shower. I sat on the floor of the shower and let the warm water just run over me, washing the city off of me. I shaved, which took two razors and about twenty minutes. When I was done, I got up and washed my briefs in the shower and hung them up to dry, then put my scrubs back on. I lay down in the soft clean bed and felt human again.

I have learned that if you have something to eat,
a roof overhead and clean water,
you should be most grateful—
you number among the world’s most blessed
.

Luke Crisp’s Diary

Light was coming in through the window blinds when I woke to the sound of yelling. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and leaned forward, momentarily forgetting that I’d been injured. The pain in my ribs quickly reminded me, taking my breath away. I waited for the pain to subside and then slid my feet over the side of the bed and put on my slippers. I stood and walked to the door and peeked out. An old man was standing in the middle of the hallway about thirty feet from me. He was brandishing a fork at the nurse, periodically thrusting it at her. “You stay away from me, you demon.”

“Mr. Brown, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m going to hurt you,” he said. “Don’t touch me.” He took a step toward her.

“Marsha!” she shouted down the hall. I couldn’t see anyone around except an old woman pushing herself toward them with a walker. “Mr. Brown, put down the fork before you hurt someone.”

“Who are you?” he said. “What do you want with me?”

“Mr. Brown, I’m Tammy. You know me. I take care of you.”

“I don’t know you. Keep away from me or I’ll hurt you,” he said. He took another step toward her. In spite of my
pain, I quickly snuck up behind the man and locked my arms around him, firmly pinning his arms to his side. He dropped the fork as he yelled out, “Aaaagh! Police! Call the police! Call a priest! Call a priest!”

The woman sighed with relief. “Thank you. Let’s get him to his room and get him his medication.” She brought over a wheelchair and I helped Mr. Brown into it, then she wheeled him back to his room. After Mr. Brown had calmed down, she said to me, “I owe you. What’s your name?”

“I’m Luke.”

“Tammy,” she said, extending her hand. “You’re the new guy—the one who lives here.”

“That’s me.”

“Well, I’m glad you were here. Mr. Brown might have skewered me.”

“I’m glad I was here too,” I said. “Do you have any Advil or Tylenol?”

“We’ve got every painkiller in the book.” She suddenly looked worried. “Did Mr. Brown hurt you?”

“No. I took a fall last night.”

“I’ll get you something.” She walked away, returning a moment later with a small plastic cup with a single pill in it and a cup of water. “Eight hundred milligrams of Tylenol. I can get you something stronger when the doctor gets here.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “I need to check on the residents. You’re working the swing shift, right?”

“That’s what Carlos said.”

“Well, I hope it works out,” she said, then went back to work.

About an hour later I went down to the dining room to get some breakfast. As I sat down at a table, an old man waddled up to me. He had dark eyes, a frown that seemed carved into his wrinkled face and gray hair that stood up on both sides like horns, or a deranged Bozo the Clown, “What are you doin’ here?” he demanded.

“Getting some breakfast,” I said.

“Who are you?”

I instinctively extended my hand. “I’m Luke.”

He made no effort to take my hand. “I don’t know any Lukes. Get out of here. Quit eating our food.”

“I work here.”

“I’ve never seen you before. You’re a freeloadin’ carpetbagger. Get out before I throw you out.”

I just looked at him. Even though he was about half my size, I had no doubt that he might at least try to do what he threatened. I wasn’t sure what to do. Taking down one of the residents probably wasn’t the best way to start my first day at work.

“Why don’t you just let me eat,” I said.

“I’m warning you,” he said, raising a feeble fist. “Pow.”

As I was considering my options, another resident, a big man with a white beard and pushing a walker, stepped up to
my table. He looked like a department store Santa Claus. “Calm down, Harold. He works here.”

“You don’t know nuthin’, you North Pole reject. He looks like a scoundrel. Look at those beady eyes. He’ll rob us blind in our sleep.”

Santa winked at me. “No, no, no …” I’m not sure if it was on purpose, but he said this sounding a little like Ho, Ho, Ho. “… He’s a good guy. He works here.”

“You don’t know nuthin’.”

“I know that they’re going to run out of cheese Danishes.”

“What?” Harold turned back toward the kitchen windows, then waddled off toward them.

“Nice move,” I said.

“I know a few tricks,” the man said. He reached out his hand. “I’m David. But everyone here just calls me Nick.”

I cocked my head. “Nick?”

“I look like St. Nicholas,” he said.

I grinned. “Thanks for stepping in.”

“Harold’s a bit tough on the newbies. But he’s not a bad guy once you get to know him. Just a bit ornery.”

“I didn’t notice,” I said.

He laughed deeply, a Santa laugh, then patted my shoulder. “I hope you like it here.” Then he slowly walked away.

One of the servers walked up to me. She was a Vietnamese woman wearing a hairnet. “Hi. What can I get you?”

“Just give me everything,” I said.

“Everything,” she said. “How would you like it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Normal, soft or puréed.”

“Normal, please.”

“Normal,” she said, and walked away.

The breakfast seemed like a feast. Biscuits with sawmill gravy, orange juice, toast with butter, scrambled eggs and bacon. I finished my plate and went back to the kitchen for seconds. When I finished eating, I went to the nurses’ station and found Tammy. She was reviewing a patient’s chart.

“I just met one of your residents,” I said. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Let me guess—Harold.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Harold Mantilla. Most of the residents call him the Hun. He’s a bit crochety. I just keep my distance. Easier that way.”

“I’ll consider myself warned.”

Carlos arrived at the center around noon. I was lying on my bed watching television when he knocked on my door. I got up and opened the door for him.

“Good morning,” he said. “I understand that you’ve already made yourself useful.”

“You must be referring to the Mr. Brown fork incident.”

“It gets exciting around here sometimes.” He noticed my underwear hanging from the bathroom door handle. “We have a washing facility,” he said. “Just put what needs to be washed in that laundry bag and they’ll return it before dinner.”

“Better service than the Château de la Messardière,” I said.

“I’ll take your word for it. Have you had lunch?”

“No.”

“Let’s get you something. I need to get some employment information on you and I’ll introduce you to Sylvia.”

“Does she know I’m coming?”

“Yes. And she’s very, very happy.”

We walked out of my room to the nurses’ station. A twenty-something-year-old woman, with dark hair and a narrow face, smiled as we approached. “Sylvia,” Carlos said, “this is Luke.”

She smiled warmly. “Glad to meet you, Luke.”

“I told Luke that he would mostly be working with serving meals.”

“Perfect,” she said.

“We’re going to get some lunch, then I want him to see Dr. Kuo. Afterward he’s all yours.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Carlos and I ate lunch, then went back to his office to fill out my employment paperwork. We had only been there a few minutes when a man knocked on the door, then stepped inside. He was Asian, dressed casually in corduroy jeans and a flannel shirt. He had a stethoscope around his neck.